When Cancer Has A Face

"Don't take life for granted, because tomorrow isn't promised to any one of us." - Kirby Puckett

Lately, I've just been surrounded by cancer. I did not think it was going to be easy shadowing at the pediatric oncology clinic. But no matter how much you emotionally prepare for something like this, it's not going to be easy. When you meet people, feelings become involved. Whether it's being in a room with them for 20 minutes or simply shaking their hand and exchanging a few words, human emotions become involved. Just a short encounter is more than enough to put a face on cancer. And when cancer has a face and name, everything becomes different. I can never think about "cancer" the same way. The word is now vivid, with personalities and stories, and remembered with a little heartache.

Last weekend, it was my first time doing Relay for Life. It was an interesting experience. Several times throughout the 24 hours, I found myself overwhelmed by the number of people out there -- all supporting a common cause. As I was waiting in line for dinner, I remember looking at the tremendously long line and thinking, "Wow, all these people raised at least $100 for this cause." All those people cared. Just when I think that compassion is becoming a rare commodity in the world nowadays, something like this happens. I'm truly moved.

Anyway, Relay was very fun. Our team raised a lot of money because of these super cute cupcakes that someone's sister made. The track had these annoying white rails that lined the innermost lane of the track, which look like the lane itself. I tripped at least five times during my time at the track. And the track had this weird trench area, which was obvious and never a problem in the daylight. But after the Luminaria ceremony at night, I almost landed on my face as I tripped into the lower ground. Pissed off as I was, I was complaining about the hazardous track to my friend when a random hole decided to form out of nowhere on the field that caused me to--yes, trip. Later that night, Gordon and I were playing frisbee on the field. For some reason, the universe decided that it would be a good idea for the night to be unusually cold, resulting in crazy amounts of condensation--everywhere. The field looked like it was rained on, and as a result, I fell on the grass twice and looked like a fool because no one else fell at all. And this morning, as I was recollecting the weekend and counting the number of times I fell/tripped, I slipped over a really, really small puddle. True story. I think I tripped/slipped/fell more times during the recent 24-hr Relay than I did in the past 2 years before it.