As I stood in the shower early Sunday morning, half of my brain was telling me I was insane. It was “Sleeping-in Day”. I should be back in my bed, covers up to my ears, enjoying a lazy start to the morning. The rational side of my brain told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. After all, I was just one of many women across Canada who were up early this morning
Today was THE DAY – the day thousands of us across the nation would be walking or running to raise funds to support the necessary research to find a cure for breast cancer.
I thought about a family friend who had recently passed away after a lengthy fight against cancer. It began with her breast and finally claimed most of her body. I thought about my grandmother who made it to her 70s before the dreaded diagnosis caught her unaware. Of the years afterwards when she struggled each day back then with an ill-fitting National Health-issue prosthesis that weighed too much and made her look lopsided. And most of all, I thought about my friend who is a double mastectomy survivor who was declared terminal 8 years ago and who is still fighting. She recently sent me a photo of herself on her 64th birthday taken while she was out picking wildflowers with her friends. The image swam in front of me in the steam of the shower stall. Her confident smile, her “take one day at a time and cherish each moment” approach to life. And I told the lazy part of my brain to shut up and pass the towel. It was going to be a busy day.
I had often thought about joining the annual Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure but that clichéd “something” always came up and I never did it. This year, when approached by a co-worker to join the team at work which would be participating, something clicked inside and I said “Yes.” Somehow I felt it was time to stand up and act instead of making excuses. Besides, I had been walking long distances all summer in a bid to bring down my blood pressure and improve my health. Why not use my newfound strength for a good cause?
I set off to meet the team, our mood was chatty on route to the Run, not once did any of us say: “what the heck, are we crazy? Let’s go home. After all, it is our weekend.” We were committed and a feeling of team unity began to build.
Once we parked near the Bell Centre, we joined a throng of t-shirted women, men, children and dogs – yes some of them wore t-shirts too –all heading for Dominion Square.. Everywhere there were women wearing signs saying “I’m walking for …” and naming a relative or friend or co-worker. One that brought tears to my eyes was worn by a much too flat-chested woman and it said “I’m walking for my mother, aunts, grandmother and sisters.”
After all of our team members assembled, we set off to find a spot in the line-up of walkers. Two team members had already set off with the runners. Once the start was announced we moved off, slowly at first and then at a slightly faster pace. Our group separated into fast and slow walkers and we began our trek through downtown Montreal.
To be part of this moving mass of people, all united with one cause in mind was an experience that I will always remember. The optimism this many people had that cancer could be beaten if more funds could be raised for research touched me. The wave of hope united us all. And did I mention the survivors who walked among us. Giving us living examples that there was life after cancer. That there could be a tomorrow.
When we finally got to the finish line, there was this immense feeling of accomplishment, that we did something, that we had stood up and been counted and by our actions perhaps, just perhaps, we could make a difference, if not for ourselves, for those who would come after us. We all hugged and cheered – we would never do that in the office – managers and coordinators and senior officers of a company hugging and cheering? But here just for one day we were all one level, simply people congratulating each other for a job well done.
At the finish a stage was set up and there were performances by singers, the awarding of medals and door prizes. Booths were scattered under the trees where participants could get free food or water, or free tote bags or enter contests. By the time we started to leave, it was turning into a huge street party. But as I turned away to follow my team members back to the car, I knew that I had not done this for the free tote bag or the neat t-shirt. I did this so that one day, that 9th woman, the one who would get the dreaded diagnosis, would be lucky enough to hear her physician say: “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. We found the cure.”
- Anne J. Fotheringham