Relay for Life

Last night was our high school's annual "Relay for Life." This year I was asked to be the faculty sponsor and was also asked to be the survivor speaker. It was a great night...it got a little cold, and the jokes got a little inappropriate as the night (or should I say morning) went on, but we had so much fun and raise $7000 for a very worthy cause. Who says the "youth of today" are slackers? They are great kids who freely gave of themselves. I was so impressed.

Here is the speech I gave: (The specific details may be a bit off--I was only 6!) :)

"My seven year old daughter has been sick with a fever and cough for the past three days. Wednesday night I had a dream, which is weird for me, because I usually don’t remember my dreams. This dream woke me up in a panic. I dreamt that I took Courtnie to the doctor for her fever and, after running many tests, they discovered bone cancer in her right arm. In my dream, I was horrified. My heart broke for my sweet little girl and what she’d have to go through.

"This panic and fear must have been what my mom went through when she was told I had cancer 30 years ago. I was almost six years old and in the 1st grade when the school nurse called my mom to tell her that I was in her office with a high fever. My mom took me to our family doctor, who sent us on to other doctors, who sent us on to other doctors. It must have been a long and exhausting day for my mom. I can picture her face as she questions the doctors and wonders what is wrong with her little girl. The cancer was discovered when they were prepping me for an appendectomy. It is a blessing that they didn’t actually operate, because they might have spread the cancer cells.

"By the time I arrived at Children’s Hospital of Orange County, the dress that fit loosely on me in the morning was now very tight. The cancer was growing that fast. They took me into surgery immediately--even though it was 1:30 in the morning.
My parents and grandparents were in the waiting room when the surgeon came out to tell them that he removed two tumors--each the size of cantaloupes from my abdomen. One was sitting on top of my bladder and the other was underneath my left lung. He said they were the ugliest tumors he’d ever seen.

"The next day my parents met with my pediatric oncologist. The type of cancer I had is called rhabdomyosarcoma--essentially a soft tissue cancer. She laid out my course of treatments, which included two years of chemotherapy treatments, and six weeks of intensive radiation therapy. My parents knew that it would be a tough road, but that it was necessary.
I don’t remember very much about my hospital stays--I don’t know if I’ve blocked it out or if I was just too young to remember. I do remember glimpses of the interior of the hospital, the nurses who were so kind to me, and the tests.

"I would stay in the hospital two weeks out of every six weeks. Every morning I would get my finger pricked for a blood test. This test would make sure my white blood cell count was high enough for to withstand the chemotherapy. If all was good, I’d get my chemotherapy dose sometime in the afternoon. I had three different types of meds given to me—all would make me extremely nauseous. While they were injecting one of the meds through my IV, I would get a metallic taste in my mouth—like I was sucking on a rusty pipe. I remember throwing up a LOT.

"When I wasn’t in the hospital, my parents tried to let me have a normal life. “Normal” was kind of difficult when you’re a 6 year old with cancer. I didn’t have any hair on my head; I didn’t have eyebrows or eyelashes. I looked kind of freaky. I tried wearing wigs—they looked really attractive! J I tried hard to “cover up” the fact that I had cancer. 30 years ago, people didn’t understand cancer the way we do now. Parents wouldn’t let their kids play with me because they thought it was contagious. Kids made fun of me, and because I was sick most of the time, I couldn’t do much physically to keep up with them. It took me a long time to feel comfortable enough to tell others about my cancer experience. I didn’t want people to treat me differently.

"Thirty years ago, the survival rate for my type of cancer was less than 25%. No one told my mom that—she found it out by doing research on her own. Every time she would find out more about my cancer, it would frighten her. She did the best she could to keep a happy face while with me, but I know she was a nervous wreck on the inside. She was dealing with so much at this time. At the time, I was the oldest of four, and during my treatments, my mom and dad had my younger brother Josh. I can’t imagine trying to find sitters for my brothers and sister while taking me back and forth to the hospital—which was 2 hours away. All of this was taking place during the gas crisis of the late 1970s. Gas was in short supply, and lines to fuel up at gas stations would be extremely long. This presented a special hardship for a family that had to travel long distances for medical treatment.

"Another challenge presented itself when my mom’s mom was diagnosed with cancer about six months after I was. She had colon cancer, and the prognosis looked bleak. My grandma was great during this time. When I’d go to visit, she and I would compare “war stories,” and try to make each other happy. When I had about six months left of my treatments, she passed away. As you can imagine, this was a lot for my mom to bear.

"After the two years of treatments, I was finally able to grow my hair out. I thought it was interesting that I had really light blonde hair before it fell out, but it grew in a light brown. To me, it signified a change in my life. It has been said “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” The older I get, the more I realize how true this statement is. I know that the reason I am the person I am is because of my past and how I chose to deal with it. I didn’t choose to have cancer, but I chose how I was going to let it affect me.

"I’m still dealing with what they call the “late-term” effects of my cancer treatments. The radiation treatments that saved my life left me unable to have children. It also scarred my arteries pretty badly. Before I had stents put in a couple of years ago, I couldn’t walk more than 1/8 of a mile before my calves would burn. It turns out my aorta was blocked 70%--resulting in an extreme lack of blood flow to my legs. Recently, I had a cancerous tumor removed from my right kidney. My doctor believes this is also a result of the radiation I had 30 years ago. My dad keeps telling me to be grateful that I’m still here—alive and kickin’! Some days are better than others, but I wouldn’t trade any of them for anything.

"In spite—or perhaps because—of my experiences with cancer, I feel pretty lucky. Throughout it all, I have been blessed with wonderful parents, amazing doctors and great friends. Even though I am unable to have children, I was fortunate to adopt the two greatest kids in the world. I was lucky to find a wonderful man—who, by the way, was also adopted—who loves me in good times and bad.

"I am grateful to each of you for your dedication and sacrifice in this event. Sure—it’s going to be a fun night, and you’ve had fun putting it together, but there are a lot of your fellow classmates who are doing something else tonight. They are most likely doing something for them, and not necessarily thinking of others. You are here—giving of yourself for a worthy cause. I admire you for that. I hope that the good times you will have tonight and the good feeling you will get in raising money will inspire you to continue to help.

"It is my hope that through small and simple means—like one high school sponsoring a Relay for Life—that great things will come to pass. All of us have been or will be affected by cancer. It’s an ugly disease and has no concern for race, gender, economic status, or religious preference. If we can work together, I know that we can all make a difference, and the nightmare I had about my daughter won’t become a reality for anyone."

We laughed and laughed and tried to stay warm last night. I stayed up until 4:15--a new record for me. After that, I just coldn't take the wind and my heavy eyes any longer. I laid down in my tent and slept for about 45 minutes before Gordon came to pick me up. We then went right to Ian's wrestling tournament--I was so wiped out! :) We came home about 12:30 and I slept a few hours. Sleep never felt so good!

This is what a VERY tired Amie looks like:

Tired, but content! :)