Relay For Life Confessions

The Confessions you'll read from March 12, 2011, were for a special Confessions event in support of The American Cancer Society's Relay For Life. The stories are all real.

RFL: Still A Woman By Jami Titanium

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Still a Woman

she sits on the cushioned table

her legs hanging loosely over the side

a paper robe about her shoulders

her arms tucked against her waist

and her chin curled quietly

against her shoulder

her hand strays to touch her breast

and she remembers

the first time he touched her there

with trembling fingers

exploring, teasing, testing boundaries

they had been young

she'd only been nineteen

and she'd arched her back

feeling her pulse swallow itself

against the heat in his palm

before he pushed her shirt

up to her neck

and took her, shivering, into his mouth

she remembers too

the air conditioned maternity room

and the hot august afternoon

where she lay sweating, still panting

as they lay the tiny seven pound bundle

against her chest

the small rooting child moving against her

looking for comfort

and pulling the child closer

the little girl's fingers had clutched

momentarily finding her nipple and tugging

the tingle at the base of her scalp

that pushed to her toes

the pleasure of knowing she was needed

that she was enough

it's strange

that in these two heavy globes

with thin translucent skin stretched over

tiny blue veins that pulse at the surface

and puckering pink buds at the tips

so much of who we are

can be shattered

her fingers splayed gently

she could feel it just under the skin

like hardened gravel beneath stretched silk

they would carve it out

she closed her eyes and imaged the scalpel

the silver cold edge against her skin

scaring the delicate curve of her womanhood

marring the perfect cradle of desire

making her somehow less "whole"

her mother had not lost her hair

but she had been tired

and driving to the treatments

had been more of an ordeal

than the treatments themselves

she wondered if she would die

she pressed her hands flat against her chest

hard

she wondered if she would be a woman

without her breasts

RFL: Three Little Angels By Jade O'Hara

Jennifer, Katrina and Suzanne were three little girls.

I use to call them My angels.

Katrina was a beautiful little girl. She wore glasses over her beautiful blue eyes and her mom always put her hair in Pig tails. she always had a smile on her cute dimpled face. A Tiny petite little thing she was.

Suzanne was more a rough tuff little tom boy. she had Brown hair and pretty Hazel eyes. she was a Fiesty litle one. A tuff cookie. played rough with the boys. and rougher with the girls.

Jennifer was the leader of the pack. she is My baby Domme.

Long Brown hair and brown eyes. and not afraid to tell it like it is, but 100% all girl.

All three were the same age. They were in school together and would go out and play at recess and they each had a big brother which is how they met at a Boy scout meeting.

They always had each other to play with and talk to. these little angels were inseperable.

Katrina started missing a lot of school days over a short period of time. she seemd to be seeing a doctor a lot. or leave school early with head aches.

one of her appointments showed a Tumor in her brain. Everyone was concerned when we heard the news. it was Heart breaking.

She was Diagnosed with Cancer , after several months of Chemo Therapy she was Taken to St Judes Hospital. She was under treatment there for a few more months. When she finally came home, My daughter and Suzanne wanted to go visit their dear friend.

We all met at house and headed over for a quick visit. I explained to the girls that she was very sick and we couldnt stay long. It took a lot of energy just to visit. We showed up at the house just as the Oxygen company was changing out the tank. we came in and the house was filled with Grandparents and other family members. It was very Realistic now for all of us. My eyes looked upon her, there she lay, fraile, weak, pale, very sick and very little hair. I knew it was a matter of time. I held back tears.

The girls seemed ok, although they were very quiet and didnt ask questions. I knew the questions would be asked of me later in the car.

I spoke to her mom and she told me Katrina told her she was tired and just wanted to go home. She was a brave little gilr and knew she was dieing.

we only stayed for 15 minutes and i made up an excuse to leave when I could hear the grandmother crying in the kitchen.

Her fathers eyes were Teary and although her mom had a stern look on her face, I knew deep down inside she was in agony, I was too.

We left the house and the questions began. I tried to answer as much as I could. The girls were quiet now and I knew this was life changing for everyone.

A few days later we got the call, our dear little angel Katrina had gone to Heaven. She passed in her sleep. It was a very difficult time for Suzanne and Jennifer.

A year Later, Suzanne was diagnosed with Cancer too. Jennifer was devastated, worried that she was going to loose her best friend.

It all started again, Missing school, doctors appointments and Chemo. after a few months, of worrying we finally were able to visit Suzanne.

she didnt look Weak, but she did have some hair loss. In no time she was back in school, she wore a cute little Hat and soon was her fiesty self again.

That was 20 years ago. Jennifer and Suzanne are still friends. Suzanne is married and has Three beautiful Angels of her own. Jennifer is Married and has One beautiful Son.

They have get together's and Talk daily on Facebook, They still remember Katrina and miss her dearly.

Katrina's Parents Moved away and live in Montana now. It was very difficult for them to stay in our small town. They are doing better now and have added two children since their little angle went to heaven. I admire their strength and ability to move forward. The loss of a Child is painful and unnatural. although Katrina will never be forgotten, she still lives in our hearts. I can still see her bright little smile.

RFL: For A By Evangeline Eames

My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was 25. For a long time, that was how I described it. I was 25. I was stuck in a child`s mindset, focusing only on her life with me and my pain at losing her. In doing so, I dismissed so much of her life, her life independent of me: hitchhiking across europe as a young woman, a brief romance with a mysterious italian man, nights out at small town Saskatchewan dances while attending nursing school during the day, broken hearts, a successful and meaningful career, a love affair with my father and its subsequent disappointments, and millions of tears, secret smiles, private triumphs and heartbreaks of which I will never know. My mother died of ovarian cancer when she was 54. She had plans for her future, and dreams left to pursue. Nowadays, my tears are for her and for everything she has missed.

For a while my mother had not been feeling well but pushed it aside. She was a registered nurse and fell prone to the bad habit most medical professionals have of diagnosing themselves. She had a variety of reasons for the pains she was having: it was stress, it was indigestion, it was menopause. But eventually her stomach distended so much and the pain was so intense she had to make an appointment to see a doctor. Tests were done and it was decided that exploratory surgery was the only way to determine the problem. The night before our family doctor comforted us and said, "It's not cancer. Cancer doesn't present like this". We clung to those words, desperately wanting to believe them. He was wrong. When they opened my mother up they found her so riddled with cancer that nothing could be done but drain off some fluid and close her up again. There was no chance for a cure. Now it was just, 'how long'. And that was a question to which no one had an answer.

Immediately my mother turned her attention to comforting us. Like many mothers, she was the cornerstone of our family. We took her for granted, and it broke my heart that in the flurry of grief and love that poured out at her diagnosis, she said, "I've never felt more loved'. I think back on that statement often, and feel ashamed that it was only in those circumstances that I told herhow important she was to me. These are the things I think about when people say they have no regrets in life. I have a million regrets and so many swirl around her. I should have done more, spent more time, helped more, listened more. It's a burden I'll always carry, like stones hanging around my neck. But the burden is a gift as well, reminding me to be try and be better, be kinder, to be more forgiving, to be more like her.

We were fortunate enough to live just outside a big city with world class care. One of us could take mom in to the clinic in the morning, stay a few hours while she received her treatment and go home for the night. During one visit my mother introduced me to a young woman who was sharing a room with her. They had become friends over the weeks of treatment. Sitting next to this young woman's bed were her two small children, no older than 5 or 6, and a pleasant looking young man who was obviously her husband. Afterwards my mother said that this woman's friendship had helped her deal with her own feelings of self-pity. "They have to travel four hours every day for her treatment. She's dying and she hasn't even raised her kids. I'm lucky. My family is grown and I've had a whole life already." It speaks to what a remarkable woman my mother was, able to feel grateful even in the midst of a brutal treatment.

Mom battled cancer for two years. The doctors had guessed she'd live a few months but my mother was valiant. During those two years we had many important discussions about life, for which I am enternally grateful. One of these discussions was on the existence of the soul. My mother knew that I had very loudly and arrogantly disavowed god and religion as a teenager and she seemed somewhat affectionately amused by it (I didn't understand then how often older people are amused by the black and white absolutes with which young people view life). During one of these discussions we talked about her training as a nurse with The Grey Nuns in Winnipeg and how one day they had explained to her scientifcally that the soul exists. She couldn't remember the exact details but it had to do with the energy measured in the body and the indesputable fact that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. The idea that some little spark of my mother's would somehow continue on is a comfort to this still confirmed atheist, even if its only a little blip of energy. When out walking, sometimes I think I feel it dancing along beside me. Yesterday, the sun hit the snow at such an angle that it was alight with tiny little glimmering lights and I thought of her. Life is not as black and white as it used to be.

The night before my mother died I went to bed early. I suppose we all knew on some level that she was dying but held out hope that she would come home again, as she had after other bad spells. As I laid there trying to sleep I was overcome by a feeling: 'get up, go to the hospital'. To this day I can't explain it. In the middle of the night I got out of my bed, got dressed, and drove to see my mother for the last time. She was sleeping. I leaned over her and whispered in her ear. I told her how much I loved her, how lucky I was that she had been my mother, and so many other things too private and precious to repeat. She smiled in her sleep, a smile which has been replayed in my mind a million times, a final gift.

My mother died on a sunny September morning just before 11 am. My father and my siblings were all there as she passed away. They joined hands around her bed and sang 'You Are My Sunshine' to her as she died. I had driven back home, two hours away, to take care of some issues with my business and planned to return the next day. My brother called me and said the words. I didn't cry but instead felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The torture, the agony for all of us was finally over. The tears came later, when I wrapped her in her favourite shawl, helped my sister put her in a new nightgown, and watched my family fill her coffin with secret notes, photos, talismen. Death makes people superstitious. A way to cope I suppose.

As I get older I sometimes feel like I am travelling down a long road, one on which my mother stopped by the wayside. Just when I feel she is becoming too distant and I have lost her, she permiates my life again, with a sound, a smell, a memory. Maybe its that little spark of energy dancing around me again. Now I know why old people like to speak the names of the dead. It makes them part of our here and now, keeps them alive in our lives. My mother is indisputably a part of me. She's the best part of me. Some day, all of our names will be forgotten, no one will tell our stories anymore or remember our deeds, good or bad. But we were here. She was here. And I speak her name like a prayer.

RFL: Maria By Zaira Miles

Cancer can hit anyone.

Like most things in life, it is kept hidden from children when ever and how ever possible

My best friend lived two doors down from me, she was in the year above me at school.

We went to different schools but had pictures taken together on the first day each year

At some point, I remember starting to go see her in hospital. I went up with her step dad in the car, he drove so fast and I clung on to the door the whole way there

We built boxes out of lolly pop sticks, we watched movies, had races in the corridor in wheel chairs.

I remember watching while they changed the bags, giving her blood among a range of clear fluids which I had no idea what it was, the blood I recognised.

She went into remission and we had birthday parties.

I picked the cases off the nuts at halloween she wanted which I didn't like

She told me, Santa was not real

We raised money for the hospital, for her to go to Disney land.

I brought up a teddy bear, they were really popular.. forever friends

She came to the Christmas panto with my class, in my school because she'd had a chemo session when her class went

I watched her do her first holy communion, and was jealous of bike she bought from the money she was given... I wouldn't have a communion.

She always seemed to have a line in her arm, covered with a bandage, or cotton to stop the nose bleeds

We played outside on bikes

We watched the bands on the 12th of July in town, throwing sticks and waving flags

She came up to my house, with her bother and we coloured in because she was too tired to go out

On the 18th my mum woke me, and told me she had died over night.

I didn't cry.

I watched with other kids on the street from my door step as they carried a coffin into her house, it looked pink in the sunlight.

It was actually white.

I couldn't decide what to put on the flowers, but knew they were to be pink and white.

I watched as my mum told the ice cream van not to come into the court for a few days, not to play music

I was taken up to see her, I remember being stunned by all the crying.

She looked the same as always, at peace.

Her class stood, a guard of honor in their summer holidays as the funeral passed

She was diagnosed aged 4 with leukaemia and died aged 11.

I cried in September, when my sister had a song playing in which a child died.

I cried every time I watched My Girl, and her friend died.

Every time I heard the name Maria, I thought of her. I tried not to say it, ever.

Each land mark point in my life I wondered, what she would be like at it. Would we still be friends?

At the end of it, it didn't really matter. She stayed my best friend.

RFL Confession By Jerbo Toxx

From Jerbo Toxx

I saw the notice on the request for confessions for Relay for Life, and wish to share my story. Please pass this on to Miss Zarita? You may use my name.

Hopefully this can be shared Miss, and if anyone has any questions about my particular cancer, let them know they can always contact me through my email address in my profile.

--- From a survivor ---

Many of you know I am a bilateral amputee (below the knee.) What some of you may not know is I am also a cancer survivor.

My story starts about 7 years ago. I, like many others took my health for granted.

In this instance I was helping my wife as we planned to attend our sons wedding. He and his future bride were getting married in Las Vegas and we were all excited to attend.

I first noticed the lump on my neck around this time, but did not think much about it. However, I count myself lucky in that I had a visible sign of this illness. Most do not until it is almost too late. However, like most of us, I ignored it at first, thinking that i t was just an inflammation of some sort. In fact after about a week, I went to the doctors to get it checked out and he suspected that it was an infection and prescribed antibiotics.

Naturally, after my weeks treatment, the swelling did not go down and in fact increased in size. However, I was excited to attend my sons wedding and still ignored it further. Well, we went to the wedding and then my wife began to express her concern about the swelling. It was now noticeable to anyone, and looked like I had the mumps (on one side of my face.) So I agreed to get checked as soon as I returned.

Well, the wedding was wonderful and on arrival back home I went back and the doctor said he needed to send me to an Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) specialist. The ENT doctor scheduled me for a biopsy, which is to take a piece of the tissue and make a determination. Naturally my adrenalin was starting to work, and the big "C" word was beginning to form in my head.

I was prepped and the procedure would be done under a general anesthesia. It was simple enough, they would remove a small part of my lymph node (where the swelling was determined to be,) and then diagnose if there was anything wrong. Results would be available in a couple of days.

What a long couple of days. Sitting, and waiting, fearing what may be. Would it be Cancer? Would it be treatable? Only time would tell.

Well, finally the doctor called and said to come into the office to discuss the results. Naturally I asked, but he said I had to come in for the results. Turns out he does that for all results (good or bad.) Anyway, we arrived and he came in and said it WAS Cancer. Non-Hodgkin large B-Cell lymphoma. Naturally I was awash with all kinds of emotions and questions. Immediately I asked if I could have a copy of the results sent to my primary care doctor at the Veterans Administration Hospital. Being a Veteran, my next thought is how to pay for any treatment. And hoping that the VA would help provide treatment or at least suggest a good doctor.

I called my doctor at the VA and informed him I had results from the biopsy, and if he could see if I could get treatment there. He had me FAX the information to him and said he would call me back. Well, again I braced myself to wait a few days knowing that the doctor may be busy with other patients. But surprisingly, he called back the next morning and said he sent a referral over to Oncology, and they would be calling me to come in for testing. He said it may take a day or two depending on their schedule. I hung up, and told the wife that I could be seen by the VA, and no more than ten minutes later the phone rang.

"Hello, this is the Oncology department, and we want you to come in tomorrow morning to be admitted for testing, and treatment.", she said. I was flabbergasted. So after talking a bit more to make arrangements, I was there the next day. They wanted to do a full workup on me. Blood work, checking for the specific type of cancer, and also my general health. Also, they wanted to schedule me for a bone marrow biopsy. Not the most pleasant procedure. I will spare you the details, but if your into S&M, I can share it with you later......grins.

After all the results were in, the determined the course of treatment would be chemotherapy. This particular treatment was called CHOP-R, which is a concoction of five different medications and IV fluids given to kill the cancer cells. Chemo works by actually trying to kill fast dividing cells in the body (which is what cancer is.) And it also in most cases reduces your immune system so that you have difficulty in fighting off infection.

Anyway, from the time they admitted me, to the time of my first treatment was just under a week. And that is pretty fast I hear. I don't remember all the chemicals that pumped into me save one. the "R" in CHOP-R, was called Rituximab (or as I call it, Rituxin). This I feel was the 'magic bullet" for my type of cancer. Don;t get me wrong, this chemical has a serious side effect and is deadly in its own right. (If you want to know more, you can visit the following web site: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0000388/)

Now, by this time the swelling on my neck was about the size of a baseball, and hard to the touch. When they started the IV drip for Rituxin, they start out slow and then increase the dosages every half hour. It takes about 8 hours to infuse it all. About half way up to full dosage, I started to experience severe itching, and then a rash all over my body. They stopped the treatment and then notified the doctor, who then had them restart the dosage just below where I started to experience symptoms. This increased the time to over 16 hours for the complete series to be given. It seems this is the main reason they start low and increase over time.

But you ask, how did I feel? What was going through my mind? Well, naturally fear. Knowing it was a fatal disease, and not knowing how long I may have to live. Fortunately, the doctor treating me taught at the local university and was one of the top doctors in his field. But, I was touched my my own mortality on that day I learned I had cancer. And that is why I embrace each day now. And even though the doctor said the treatment may seem to be a cure, you are never assures that you have it all.

Anyway, after my first round of chemotherapy, they kept me for a few more days for observation. Remarkably, the following day after treatment, we noticed the hardness to the lump was softer. After a couple of days it was very soft. In a few more days we noticed the lump shrinking. In less than two weeks, the swelling had gone down completely and there was no sign of it!

I completed 7 more rounds of chemotherapy once every three weeks. About half way through my treatments, my Cat Scans showed no traces of cancer (which was also in my torso and groin.) And I have been cancer free for the last 6 years.

Sadly, the week of my last treatment and finding out I was in remission, my wifes best friends husband found out he had cancer of the bone. And even after all the chemo and treatments he lost his battle just last year. He fought for five years, when they gave him only two to three.

It goes to show that we must embrace life to the fullest and love those around us with all our heart. And that is why I can say to all of you......I Love you.

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RFL: Pancreatic Cancer By Cera Rhapsody

Pancreatic Cancer, the fourth most deadly cancer known and THE most horrible and personal disease to me. Two years ago, I lost my mother to this aweful cancer at the young age of 63. After weeks of not feeling well, I was finally able to convince my mother to seek medical help. After one short hour, we found that she had Pancreatic Cancer in the later stages, her options were surgery, with very little chance of successful removal, or radiation and chemo, even a slimmer chance of success. The two options may have allowed her a week or two, maybe even a month longer, but the treatments would offer her horrible side effects. so, instead of living what little life she had left in pain and being more ill, she made the choice to not attempt any treatment at all. This was the 24th day of December. Not knowing exactly what time was left for her, she spent it visiting friends, traveling to warm places to golf, this lasted for a little less than two weeks... then the disease started to really take hold of her. I started a webpage on the "CaringBridge.org" site so that family and friends could see regular updates and post comments and memories they shared with my mother, something I will cherish always. At the three week since diagnosis mark, I closed my business and traveled the four hour drive to stay with her, my children were back in school, so when they were with their father, I would stay there with her, when they were home, I d drive back until they went to school again. This lasted a week. her decline was rapid after the fourth week mark came. My mother had always wanted to have a family portrait taken, one of me, my two kids, brother, his wife and son and her... but she always put it off, wanting to lose a bit more weight, change something with the house, what ever it was, there was always something. Finally, that fourth week, she must have decided she had lost enough and had done enough work on the house because we finally had that family portrait taken, by this time, I was staying with her full time, we had hospice care come in and offer pain management and comfort and wonderful support for both me and my mother. I could tell that her health was dropping rapidly, we took care of finances, bank accounts, dividing household items between me and my kids and my brother and his family, talked for hours, told stories and reminiced, we argued and laughed, and of course, we shed alot of tears, and her knowing my passion for dragonflies, promised me that she would come back as one as soon as she was able, so I would know it was her... but, smiles, as I type this, I can hear my mothers words ring in my ears... "it is what it is, lets make the best of it." And we did, as hard as it was... and knowing what was ahead, we still laughed and made the best of it. The last week was the hardest, yet I laughed the most, she would start having illusions, dillusions more like, she would see things and get upset with me because I couldnt see them as well... she would yell at me, cry... and shake her fists, tell me I was the worst babysitter she had ever had, lol good , I thought, Im doing my job then = ) She would see her long passed mother and father, and older brother, talking to them as if they were right next to us, I heard so many wonderful memories that she had with them during those time, stories I would never had heard if I hadnt been there with her. At the end of the fifth week, January 30th, I called my brother and her best friend, and told them I thought they better come, and soon... mom waited until they both arrived, and were settled, digging in the fridge, checking emails, I was on the phone with my kids, and she closed her eyes, I remember having a feeling that made me turn completely around and look at her, telling my son I needed to get off the phone now, hanging up and taking the two steps to her side as she looked at me and told me that who ever would come in contact with me would be kissed by an angel, she passed away a few short minutes after that, holding tightly to my hand.

This is a poem I had written for my mom...

Sometimes I get lonely,

and thinking about you helps

reminding me that there is

a person

I cherish so very much

always close in spirit

even when you're

so far away.

But sometimes it hurts even more

to think of you...

your laugh, your touch

and to remember just

how much I'll miss

your gentle face

your tender ways

your presence in my life.

God Speed mom! I love you