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| A Report from the American Cancer Relay for Life: A Supplement to the Cancer Chronicles |
| There are scars that all can see. There are scars that only those closest can see. There are scars that no one can see. All have played a role in altering my form, and those unseen are just as deeply felt as those that mark my body. |
| As the last official act to celebrate my 25 years of freedom from cancer, I walked in the American Cancer Society Relay for Life at Montclair State. I expected a primarily joyous occasion in which I would simply revel in being alive. Like all things with cancer, the event proved bittersweet. |
| I feel asleep earlier in the day when I lay down to rest my eyes for a "minute". I woke up and saw the starting time had passed. How could I miss such an important event? I quickly washed my face an sped to campus to find the opening ceremony was not done. I arrived in time to hear the story of a cancer survivor who is the uncle of two MSU students. He related his story of a 10 year battle with two forms of cancer during which he also had to assume the role of caregiver when his daughter also was diagnosed with lymphoma. |
| After his talk, I joined him and two students for the Survivor's Lap. We made one loop around the quad as bright music played, and students lining the route cheered as we passed. I was uplifted. On the second lap, we were joined by about a dozen caregivers. The third lap included all participants. After one more lap, I took a break and chatted with the uncle and his family at dinner at a special survivors and caregiver's tent. |
| I had planned to leave, but decided I could do my daily walk, so I did several more laps. The mood was mostly festive. There was a DJ and games for the college students. In one nice moment, the DJ played "Don't Stop Believing" which transformed into a sing along. The DJ took requests for $1 and would stop a song for $2. The same Spice Girls song was started and abruptly stopped twice. I chose to reflect, as I walked, about how happy I was to be there, raising money, and alive on a crisp Spring day. |
| The route was lined with a constant reminder of cancer's reach and power to destroy. Paper bags each bearing the name of one not as lucky as I was in the fight with cancer. After dark, the bags were outfitted with glow sticks. The sight and multitude of these luminaria was sobering. |
| After I finished a several laps, and was about to leave I decided to stay for the official luminaria ceremony. A speaker made a short appeal to remember those who have died, and another survivor spoke. Next was the most somber and moving part of the event. All the participants walked a lap in silence. The track became crowded. The event was was attended mostly by students. Older adults were conspicuous in this sea of youth. I easily spotted one ahead of me. She walked slowly because a student (her daughter?) leaned on her shoulder. On the other side her arm was entwined with that of a third lady (an older sister? a friend? an aunt?). I could not see their faces, but their grief was palpable. I suddenly thought of those I had lost to cancer: A beloved research advisor, several relatives, friend's parents, and a former labmate. My earlier elation was now colored by the toll of this disease. I will admit to tearing up on this lap. The silent lap was followed by a fight-back lap in which we were charged to thinking about what we would do in the upcoming year to fight cancer. During this lap, the cheerful music returned, and most of us picked up our pace. The highs and lows of the Relay of Life were encapsulated in these two laps. |
| I was proud and happy to participate in the walk. |
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