My job is hard because in the Spring I average 60-70 hour work weeks. My job is hard because I drive upwards of 400 miles a week. And my job is hard because I grow to know and care for remarkable individuals who I would have never met otherwise... and I watch cancer turn their world upside down.
Last Friday I spent my afternoon in the hospital with a volunteer who was starting Round 1 of chemo. She is getting the "red devil" and already has her wig for when she loses all her hair over the next three weeks. Her husband is taking a semester off from grad school to care for her. She will finish chemo 18 months from now.
This week one of my students lost her grandfather to this disease. Tonight a second student lost his grandma. Their grief is palpable. I find it unbearable.
My job is hard because finding a cure is hard. And my job is hard because I can't stop cancer from wrecking havoc on the lives of those who mean so much to me. And my job is hard because there isn't a best practice or a fundraiser that takes away pain or grief.
But there are two things we can do.
We can run. Or walk. Or Zumba. And reduce our risk. Because I never want to meet the red devil nor put my grandchildren through the pain my volunteers are experiencing. I know that pain. I do not wish it on anyone.
And we can fundraise. Because whether it be through an experimental procedure, a magic bullet drug, or prevention... there will be a cure for cancer. And I want to know. Know. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. That I helped find it.
Because what else am I going to tell my students? My neighbors? My volunteers, coworkers, or friend? My family?
This is personal. Please fight back against cancer with me.
Will you make a commitment to your health? Put it in writing. In the comment section. Right now.
Or can you make a donation? Help fund research. Help fund a cure.
I'll work 80 works weeks. I'll drive 800 miles. I'll do whatever it takes. What about you?
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