Running isn’t just good for me (and you) physically, it helps mentally, too. Phil always told me that when he has something big to think about, he goes for a run. And he’s right. Even with my music blaring in one ear (I never put both ear pods in – learned that in self-defence class – always stay aware of your surroundings), I can think more clearly and better concentrate on a run. This first run I thought about a million things, but the one that really stands out is my upcoming meeting Thursday morning at Dana-Farber.
I received a letter the other day from the Development office at Dana-Farber, wanting to thank me for my significant donation in December and to find out why I made it – what my story is. And boy, will they get a different story than they probably expect – it’s certainly evolved since I wrote that check! So as I ran, I began to think about what I will tell them.
And halfway across the Harvard Bridge (amongst the ‘Smoots’), I began to cry. I cried as I ran (thank goodness, once again, for sunglasses) and thought about telling them how devastated I’d been in mid-December when my dear school friend Sarah found out that her 10-month-old daughter has cancer – a neuroblastoma in her lower pelvic area and a nodule in her lung. It was so unfair!!! I thought about the other people close to me who’ve been hit so hard by cancer, like my friend Kristen who lost her brother Greg after his long, brave fight with the disease. And it being close to Christmas, I thought how no one really needs anything more than health and decided to make that donation to Dana-Farber in honor of Mirany and everyone impacted by cancer. I printed out the donation cards from the website and give those to people instead of other gifts for Christmas. And then March came… I cried some more, just thinking about how I’ve gotten to know Dana-Farber more than I ever wanted to.
I am happy to share my story with them (heck, I can just give them this blog address!), my heart just breaks for Sarah, Scott and Mirany’s lives, my life, my family and friends going through this with me, all of us, and wish in this one way we were all where we were last November: blissfully ignorant of this damn thing called cancer.