Borderline neighbors
It means more. Sometimes we have to be brushed by tragedy to really care about things that should already concern us. Things we say concern us. Like breast cancer.Sunday, I watched my brother drive down the county line, disk harrow behind the tractor as he headed to a neighbor’s little farm to work his fields. The neighbor’s wife is dying of breast cancer. Later that morning, my sister and I asked our church congregation to pray for the woman, her husband, and two young children. It means more to me than ever before.
I can’t think of any woman who enjoys a mammogram. I can’t think of any woman who enjoys thinking about or even talking about breast cancer. Those we know who have battled it, we often view silently as heroes, thinking, “I’d never want to go through that. I don’t know how she did it.” No, we don’t. Two of my coworkers have fought it and won. We wear pink, and we support breast cancer events, but it took this for me to realize it means more, when we think of those who don’t win.
For several years, my neighbor and her husband have waged the war against breast cancer. She’s about my age, which is what has hit me the hardest. She has two young children, entering the ages of adolescence, when Mom is so important. The other night, my mom said the woman is incredible pain, most of her body now filled with tumors.
Driving by their house each night on the way home from work, I can’t help but wonder, what would I do in her shoes? Fighting so hard for so long, through so much pain, the chemo, the hospitalizations, and always fighting. Could I do it? There’s a great song by Twila Paris, “The Warrior Is a Child,” in which she sings, “people say that I’m amazing, strong beyond my years, but they don’t see inside of me, I’m hiding all the tears.” I’m not there, in that household, but it would have to be so hard to be mother and wife, two strong jobs as it is, and fight the cancer demons without a few gallons of tears, self-doubt, anger, and pain.
This is my second year as an Ambassador for the Susan G. Komen Foundation and the Komen Rally for the Cure breast cancer golf scramble, and fourth year as a volunteer for the event. Each year, we honor breast cancer survivors, play some golf, wear silly pink outfits, laugh, eat, and raise some money for the Komen Foundation, one of the leaders in cancer research. It’s meant to be a night of good fun and it is.
But when I drive back home that July night, tired, aching, and a car full of golf clubs, leftover prizes and a crumpled silly pink hat, I’ll pass that house, knowing there will possibly be a grieving husband, two motherless children, and the need to find a cure more urgent than ever. It means more.