So many others

Jay Monahan, Cherie Geiser, Tony Snow, Leroy Sievers...
Just a few of the people that our greatest hopes and worst fears were pinned on when we got the news Jim had Stage IV colon cancer. Jay died very quickly after diagnosis, like Jim. Cherie fought for more than 10 years, Tony beat it briefly only to have it come back again stronger than ever and take him quickly. Leroy was given 3 months to live. He's now on year 2, but it's been a long hard battle and is now wondering if it's time for hospice.

I see cancer everywhere. My uncle, a good friend, a neighbor's sister, a church friend's toddler niece, my boss' best friend, a coworker's wife. More and more every day. So many lives upended. Even when the outcome is "no evidence of disease," it's such a difficult road to travel for the patient and their families. The treatments are horrendous for the patient. Everyone ages in the process from the stress and worry, then you never stop looking over your shoulder for it to rear its ugly head again and start the battle anew.

When I hear of another person with cancer, it makes me relive the treatment year with Jim. It makes me so sad that someone else and their family have to live through that. It's a crazy roller coaster you can't get off of, no matter how sick you are. You're scared all the time. Leroy writes a blog for NPR called My Cancer. In one of his posts he talked about how he would just like a break - not a big one, just some time within a day without the pain and sickness. I'm so grateful for Jim's 400 cancer-free minutes during his dive trip in Mexico with Kate's dad. After that, he never got another break.

I bought myself a baseball cap from an organization called Choose Hope. They donate profits to cancer centers around the US, two Jim went to and one was another option they considered. It says in big letters across the front "CANCER SUCKS." I wear it a lot. I can see it makes people whose lives have never been touched by cancer uncomfortable and scared. In 1971, President Nixon signed the National Cancer Act and declared a war on cancer. Today, 37 years later, we're still scared to death of cancer. That's just not right.

Wearing my cap, I know right away the people who've been to battle - they smile and sometimes say "great hat." One gentleman at the races stopped me and said "My wife's an oncology nurse and she sees a lot of those caps." Oncology nurses...angels sent to earth to help cancer patients.

I took my cap to an embroidery shop on Thursday. They are going to put "Remembering Jim - 5/28/69 to 9/17/07" in an arch across the back opening. I'll be wearing the cap a lot and hoping I'll live to see the day when others won't have to.