Just got back from a good swim. I checked the mail before the swim and we got a $100 check from a donor which brings our donation total to $1,000! WOOHOO...That means we're 10% of the way to our goal of $10,000. That's amazing, but we've still got a long way to go and we won't be able to make it without your help!!
I'd also like to go on the record by saying that we won't stop at $10,000. If we reach $10,000 before our race we'll keep asking, keep trying and keep believing. We'll be doing everything we can this winter to CURE CANCER. And won't stop until it happens!
So, yes, good swim. I'm hitting the pool again tomorrow since I'm a little behind on the swim workouts. But to continue on from this afternoon. Here is Mark's story:
Mark was in England for business on his 30th birthday. Let me clarify: rural small town England. He wasn't feeling too well so he went to bed pretty early. Not exactly a great way to celebrate a birthday. He recalled to us waking up in the middle of the night, feeling horrible and heading to the bathroom. I noticed my figure...I could see every single one of my ribs and muscles in my chest. I looked like a skeleton. Then I noticed my face. Kind of ironic -- I notice my face second. But I had grown a second chin. Within hours I had turned from a normal man to a skeleton with a double chin.
Something was obviously wrong. He went to the ER in rural England. They said it was the measles. Or the mumps. They said go home. He went back to the hotel. The pain got worse. A third chin grew. He went back to the ER. They said it was the measles. Or the mumps. They said go home. He went back to the hotel. His pain grew. His pain was excruciating. His coworkers began worrying. They took him back to hospital. They demanded tests. Answers. Doctors did the tests. Mark was in pain. Excruciating pain. Thought he would die. Then he got an answer:
Go home. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow at 10am and go to the 8th floor, Turner Ward.
He admitted to us that at that moment his spirits immediately raised because:
1. He would live long enough to come back tomorrow at 10am
2. Someone knew what was wrong with him. And he would find out tomorrow. And something could be done.
So he arrived the next day at 10a and went to the 8th floor. Then looked around...there was no Turner Ward. Had they lied to him? Was this a joke? No he was sure he was going to die. But then he took a look at the signs.
Geriatrics. Well I'm definitely not THAT old.
Pediatrics. Well I'm definitely not THAT young.
ONCOLOGY.
At that moment, he told us, his heart immediately sank to the floor and he started crying. He knew he had cancer.
I forgot to mention that Mark was at the peak of his health when this happened. He had ran multiple marathons, always ate healthy. He did everything right. And there he was on the floor of some English hospital crying because he had cancer.
The diagnosis was Hairy Cell Leukemia. And once he got back to the States he went through a few weeks of mild chemotherapy. Didn't lose his hair. Never threw up. Now, he has been in remission for 5 years. Mark thanked us for raising money for LLS because that money that funded research that created the drug he was treated with saved his life. And will continue to save others like him.
Yesterday, I went to Kaiser in SF. My doctor is on floor 7. In the packed elevator, I was standing right in front of the directory. I noticed an elevator mate choose floor 8. As the elevator cleared, I read the directory. Floor 8 -- Oncology.
I never want to find myself on Floor 8. I never want anyone I ever love to go to Floor 8. I never want any friend, acquaintance or enemy to push Floor 8 on that elevator or elevators like it across the country. I don't want there to be any Floor 8's in any hospital, anywhere.
Mark's story wasn't the first I've heard like this. I've heard a handful of honorees tell me that that was how they found out they had cancer. They were told to go to a certain floor. And when the elevator doors opened they were confronted with the words "ONCOLOGY" and their lives changed forever.
Though I hope someday no one ever has to find their way to Floor 8 just to have their life shattered, I know for the short term that is wishful thinking.
Here is a more realistic, achievable goal: That every person whose life is halted by a visit to the 8th floor find hope when the elevator doors open. That there is a treatment for everyone. That everyone has the chance to fight and a better chance to live.
The money we're raising will do this. In the short term, it will save lives. It will make the road bumps shorter and easier to bare. It will even cure some.
And as time moves on. As we keep raising money. Raising Awareness. We will find a cure.
Here's to ending 8th floor visits.
xoxo
Erin
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