Relay for Life 2011

I've participated on the health department's Relay for Life team a number of times over the past several years. This was the first year we did not have a team, but I participated as an individual - and with cancer. At the recommendation from the Cancer Center, I attended the Survivor Luncheon and participated in the opening ceremony as a survivor. It was surreal. All survivor's donned the purple Relay for Life t-shirt that says, "Celebrate. Remember. Fight Back." And each was to wear a ribbon with the color symbolizing the type of cancer we/they had. I wore my pink ribbon with pride. It was amazing to see numerous survivors with three or four different colors of ribbons. Three or four different types of cancer for one person. This disease is truly a monster.

As we ate together, I watched people in awe. Displayed were quilts with painted hand prints of survivors from the previous year. As part of the fundraiser, they are auctioned at the opening ceremony. One by one, they were sold to people in the crowd. I kept thinking to myself that I would love to have one. The last one that was brought out was pink. The color for breast cancer. And the bidding started off slowly. I surprised myself by raising my hand and bidding for the blanket. I got it for a very reasonable price. Really, these blankets should be in the Master Card commercials, because they are priceless. I've decided the blanket will accompany me to my chemotherapy sessions. I toured the Cancer Center's "chemo suite" on Friday and saw that there are blankets on each chair in the suite, but I want my own. Imagine my delight when I found the Kelly and April's names on my quilt. I am covered with it now. I posted a photo of it on my Facebook page and a friend wrote, "helping hands." I love that. And I'm not afraid to tell you that although I'm 43 years old, I'm finding comfort in my "blanky" already.

The event organizers treated

us as the "Relay for Life Graduating Class of 2011." After a prayer, and listening to the key note speaker, Jane Marshall, and incredibly inspirational woman and survivor from Pocatello, each

survivor walked through a colorful balloon arch. They called out our name and announced how long we had been a survivor. When I registered, earlier in the evening, I filled out my information card and the woman saw my official diagnosis date of 6/5/2011, and said, "wow, honey, you are just starting this journey, aren't you?" She put on my card that I have been a survivor for 1.5 months. Which is around the time I discovered the lump, so she had it about right, I guess. When Billie said, "Denise O'Farrell, survivor for one and a half months," I took a deep breath, looked through the arch and into the sun, and felt like was an official beginning to my journey. And people clapped and supported me as I stepped through the arch.

Throughout "graduation," I recognized many people from Pocatello. I've lived in Pocatello nearly my entire life and while maybe I didn't know their names, I knew their faces, and now I knew they also had battled cancer and were survivors. Husbands and wives walked through together, holding hands, and you could feel their incredible bond. Family members walked through together. Kelly and April, women that were on our team last year, are melanoma survivors, and they walked through together. It was touching. It seemed as though there were hundreds of us. When we all went through the arch and had taken our seats, they said we had officially graduated and we were to walk the survivors lap.

Olivia and her friend, Riley, walked the survivor lap with me. Olivia held my hand the entire time. Teams lining the track clapped the entire time. I had many thoughts during that lap. I felt sadness because I'm now one of millions of people with a cancer diagnosis. In those moments, I also missed Michael a great deal. I felt an immense amount of love for Olivia. She has been such a great caregiver for me since my two surgeries. She continually squeezed my hand as we walked, and asked about my pain. I also felt the energy from the survivors and the participants - a feeling of great hope. That is what Relay is about. Hope. Hope that we will win the battle against cancer. Hope that researchers and scientists find a cure for cancer. Hope that I will be walking the survivor's lap with Olivia 20 years from now. And hope that no one else in my family gets this dreaded disease.

After I walked the survivor lap I had to go home and rest. The two incisions are still very sore. And my arm is extremely hypersensitive. I'm listening to my body and hearing the message that I've been overdoing it. I slept for a while, but returned to Relay at midnight. Charley's Angels, Pocatello's famous drag queens, performed for hundreds of people. Laughing is said to be great therapy. Well, I had a great therapy sessions watching the Angels. They love what they do and I love watching them perform!

At one o'clock in the morning (WAAAYYYY past my bedtime), a band named Street Runners performed their first "gig." The moon was shining bright and there was a chill in the air. I had been anxious for this performance all night. The band consists of four young men. Sage, Cayle, Nic, and my son, Conor. Wrapped in my new blanket for warmth, I watched and listened to the very talented band. Of course, I'm biased, but they were GREAT! Conor played the trombone, bass guitar, and trumpet. It made my heart leap with joy and my toes tap to the beat of ska, metal, latino, and reggae-like music numbers. Sage sang a love song that he had written to his girlfriend, Jen. He's like a second son to me and I was so proud of him. (Conor was his human music stand, holding his music and it looked as if Conor was proposing to Sage, which is fitting because they are connected at the hip).

It was the perfect way to end my night, or to start my Saturday morning. It was a night I will cherish for years to come.