I’ve always thought of life like a rose. Sometimes beauty, happiness and strength can only grow from pain, just like the rose has thorns.
To me, it was no coincidence that my grandma, Genevieve Drake, loved red roses. She went through so many struggles, but was also the strongest woman I have ever known.
She gave birth to a whopping 14 kids with a house containing only one bathroom. Yet my grandma hardly ever lost her patience, and, in turn, each child felt like he or she was her favorite.
In 1996, when I was seven-years-old, my grandma died from lung cancer at age 81. And I will never forget her. My grandma left a legacy: 14 kids, 36 grandkids and 40 great-grandkids strong. But many of these people never met her.
Cancer is, sadly, not uncommon to my family. Three of my uncles and one of my aunts died from lung cancer all before the age of sixty. In 1997, when I was nine, my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer, but, thankfully, it was diagnosed early, and he survived.
One of my close friends, Allison Nemeth, wasn’t so lucky and lost her father five years ago to cancer.
He was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease in 1977, and, after chemotherapy and radiation treatments, was in remission for the remainder of his life.
Her dad didn’t know he had cancer when he died 27 years later. Nemeth said she thinks her dad assumed his Hodgkin’s was back, not cancer. He had gotten very weak and passed away from a heart attack on January 14, 2004.
Nemeth and her mother only found out after an autopsy that his heart attack was caused not by Hodgkin’s disease, but by lung cancer.
She told me she remembers it like it was yesterday.
‘When [my uncle] called, I assumed he was saying my dad was in the hospital. I would have never guessed he was calling to tell me I would never get to see or speak to my daddy again, that he was gone forever. What a nightmare! The truth was, I was now fatherless, and all I wanted was to wake up from the nightmare. I just talked to him a couple of days before. He sounded fine. I didn’t get to tell him what a great dad he was. I never got the chance to say goodbye,? Nemeth said.
‘Since he passed away, I have learned to appreciate the smaller things in life and not to take anything for granted. You never know when a loved one will be taken from you. In a split second, your life could change forever. Always choose your words carefully, speak kindly, avoid harsh words and cherish every moment that you spend together,? she added.
Nemeth told me that new research would mean new hope not only for cancer patients but also for their families.
Cancer is one ‘thorn? in life we shouldn’t have to endure. Cancer cuts people’s lives short, leaves children fatherless or motherless. Cancer comes in the form of a tumor, an uncontrolled growth, and weakens and sucks the life out of its victims. According to the American Cancer Society, one in three people will be diagnosed with cancer sometime in their life. This is a scary statistic.
On Saturday, June 20, Relay for Life was held in Lake Orion to fight back against the disease that has claimed so many lives, and to give hope to families like Nemeth’s and my own.
Almost everyone I know has a story to tell about someone they love who has been diagnosed with cancer. And I’m sure you know of someone who has either survived or been lost to the disease.
Relay for Life happens once a year, but cancer is a problem in the lives of many every single day.
Now that the Relay for Life is over, you can still help fight cancer. You can do your part in your everyday life ‘quit smoking if you haven’t already, sit in the non-smoking section at restaurants (secondhand smoke is dangerous), wear suntan lotion when you go outside to prevent skin cancer, walk at least 15 minutes daily, eat healthier and get your recommended screenings.
You can also take the extra step and volunteer to be on the Lake Orion Relay for Life committee by contacting the Lake Orion ACS representative Erin Semmens at 248-663-344 or Erin. Semmens @cancer.org, and you can also donate money to the American Cancer Society at www.cancer.org.