The early morning air was frigid. The snow crunched under my feet, and a single tear rolled down my chapped cheek. Headphones on, I was listening to Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying,” but this time, the words cut through me and took up residence in my head.
He said I was in my early forties, with a lot of life before me
And one moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days, looking at the x-rays
Talking bout’ the options and talking bout’ sweet times.
I asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end
How’s it hit ‘cha when you get that kind of news?
Man what did ya do?
I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I’d been denyin’
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin’…
You always remember exactly where you are when you get the news. I was a morning anchor in Cleveland, and my husband had just been diagnosed with cancer. Melanoma. True to my nature, I remained optimistic, but I would be lying if I said the thought of being a widow in my thirties didn’t enter my head. My husband is a fighter, much like my sister-in-law, who at the time, had just beaten breast and thyroid cancer. He wanted to keep the issue private and just wanted the cancer GONE, so shortly before Christmas he had a five and a half hour surgery at The Cleveland Clinic to remove the cancer that had spread across his face, down his neck and into his chest. It was quite possibly the longest five hours of my life. To say the wait at the clinic–alone–was agonizing is an understatement, but I’m happy to say that although he hasn’t been cancer free, he has been melanoma free for six years.
Since that day, cancer has taken the lives of several friends and family members- most recently, my grandmother, who lost her battle with pancreatic cancer.
Many of you have asked where I am and what I’ve been doing since I left my job as the evening anchor in Providence. We initially traveled around the country, but when we got to Georgia, where my parents live, they had some unexpected news for us. My dad–the full of energy, West Point graduate, Air Force General–has cancer. Specifically, stage 4 throat cancer. He has a tumor at the base of his tongue and the cancer has spread to his lymph nodes. He has had four chemo treatments so far and, I think, 20 radiation treatments. Honestly, I’ve lost count. This round of chemo is over and now he must continue going to radiation TWICE a day, five days a week, for three more weeks. Doctors will then see about removing the –hopefully dead– nodes and will check to see if surgery to remove the tumor is an option. My dad also has Leukemia (CLL) & Diabetes, which makes all these treatments a little more complicated.
I am the youngest in the family and am used to everyone looking after me, regardless of whether I need it: older siblings to protect me, parents to be over-protective. Being here, as my dad battles cancer, has forced me to see myself in a new light…that of caretaker. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can really be of help to my parents. I don’t have a job that I am tied to, yet if the right opportunity presents itself I can take it. This is the first time in my adult life I’ve ever spent any considerable amount of time with my parents, and the most time they’ve ever gotten to spend with my 20 month old daughter. She is such a welcome distraction, not only to my dad, but to my mom, who is taking my dad’s diagnosis especially hard.
I don’t know what the future holds for my dad. We can only live one day at a time and be hopeful for many more great years together. I know it will get worse before it gets better, but I am so grateful for this time we have together. So many families have been touched by cancer, including many of you reading this article. My hope and prayer is that we can someday find a cure. I am not asking you to donate any money; I know times are tough and everyone has charities that are important to them. I would, however, be so grateful if you could find the 15 seconds it takes to “like” a company on Facebook. Overhead Door Garage Headquarters has generously offered to donate $1 to the Tomorrow Fund for each facebook “like” Overhead Door gets from the start of this campaign. My hope is that we can help “close the door” on cancer by sending thousands of “likes” their way and, in turn, thousands of dollars to the Tomorrow Fund to help find a cure for this horrible disease. So, please, spread the word, re-post, and take thirty seconds to check out Overhead Door Garage Headquarters and “like” their page. When the campaign is over, we will be doing a check presentation. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!