Punk Kid in D.C. {Day 3}

Day 3:  This one is for Patsy.

This day was full of information...and nerves. We were given a list of four asks to work our story around, and the one that called my name was ACA mandates. If you follow me on FB, I generally avoid politics with the exception of healthcare.

Here's the deal. When Trump ran on a campaign to repeal ACA, I was terrified. I know the ACA isn't perfect, but there are specific mandates that provides those with cancer some much needed relief. And it wasn't until weeks after the election Trump stated he would keep the mandate on pre-existing conditions. That provided some relief; but when you're fighting chronic cancer, the mandate on lifetime and annual caps starts looking like your own personal expiration date. Real. Talk.

To be clear, we have fabulous insurance. Blue Cross Blue Shield even assigned a case worker after each major surgery to call and setup home healthcare if/when needed. It's great...as long as Fred is never laid off or wants to find a new job. And that is why I feel like such a burden. Because finding a job becomes all the more difficult. Say he finds a dream job, but they don't offer fabulous insurance...he'd be giving up a dream, for me.

The other reason I "get rowdy" about healthcare is for you - your family - your children. Because I have the perspective of the great big scary c-word, and no one thinks it could happen to them...until it does. Because when facing a scary diagnosis, whatever it may be, your energy should be focused on healing. And if it takes my chemo brained bald head going to the Capitol to advocate and improve even one life, I'm going to do that. I love you! You are worth my time and energy!

Okay, stepping off the soapbox...

While the ACA asks called my name, I had trouble wrapping my head around it and getting my story out. We practiced, I flailed. Not fail...flail! But I did get emotional. The tears come so easily now. When I tell our story, images from my dad's diagnosis to my own flash through my mind. The incredible kindness we have seen and received because cancer. The hurts. The beauty. The triumph. Yeah...emotion comes easily, in a good way. I wear my heart on the outside now.

Just when I thought we were getting down to business, and the tears had ended...they got me again. It was called "Sparks of Strength" a luminary event. I should have known from the name. For this event one-by-one we speak the names of who we are fighting for, and light a candle. My goodness the snot. By the time my turn came it was pouring out of my nose. (One of the post-chemo effects, runny nose...add tears and it's like a fountain.)

My dad.
Myself.
And Patsy.

I haven't spoken of Patsy Petzold in a while. In fact, when she passed, I didn't even mention it on Facebook. I couldn't. I was heartbroken. Patsy was the first colon cancer survivor I reached out to through email. As my first cycle of chemo came to an end, amid my celebration, she learned her maintenance chemo stopped doing its job. I initially reached out to Patsy because of how similar our stories were, from birthday to diagnosis dates, our stories matched exactly two years apart. In the very brief time I knew her, she mentioned her work with FightCRC, and her plan to attend Call-on Congress. She was unable to make that trip.

My story was unique, and based on the election results (and my fears previously discussed), I was ready to tell my story and fight to improve the lives of others. So when I saw the scholarship opportunity, I jumped.

I am here because of Patsy. I'm here because daddy gave me a story worth telling. I am here because my Knight gives me the love and energy to fight, every day. I am here because God isn't done with my story, and my goodness, what a beautiful story He is writing!

To Patsy's family, I hope you find comfort in knowing even a brief conversation with Patsy left a lasting impact. Her light was that strong! And I promise, as long as I have breath, I will carry her light with me as I advocate to improve lives.

Punk Kid in D.C. {DAY 2}

Wherin the itchy hat comes off...

One of the evil side effects of chemo that no one really talks about...because nausea and neuropathy get ALL the attention; insomnia. Day 2 of 4, and I've slept maybe three hours. While sitting trying to listen to a discussion I start to doze, but the minute I get to our room my mind starts buzzing. I timed my non-naps around topics of interest or participation, but grateful Fred was there to be my second set of ears to fill me in on what I missed!

Aside from the insomnia, I was also in a lot of pain. Honestly, I didn't even realize the pain level until I didn't have access to a HOT shower. Apparently one hot shower a day is enough to relieve my muscle tension, but our hotel shower was lukewarm at best. I have all the oxy and hydros, but nothing for muscle tension. Thankfully my nurse was able to call in a muscle relaxer to a local pharmacy, and seriously save the week!

After picking up my script (and one insane Lyft ride), I returned just in time for the group share. This is where you stand up in front of 150 other attendees and share your story. And this is where the nerves kicked in...public speaking is not my favorite. You guys know how much I hate spiders...well, I'd take a sit down meeting with a spider over public speaking. But as the stories continued I began to realize this is my tribe, they fight - they are strong - they hurt - they cry - they are angry...just like me! The nerves fell away and I simply listened to my tribe.

Usually I would try to prepare something in my head, but I was so enthralled by everyone else's story; by the time my turn came, I was blank. I stood up. I was wearing a hat instead of Pearl (my wig), and it had been itching like crazy all day...so that's the first thing that popped into my head. I took it off. I was bald. And then people started to clap...then they started to stand. And I silently thanked Daddy, for a legacy and story worthy of a standing ovation. For me, ditching the hat was symbolic. I was breaking open and bearing my truest self. If all those before me could bear their souls, I could too! I can't fully recall my words, but I do remember explaining the hurt and heartbreak of having to turn to Fred and tell him he'd have to do it again.

Poor Fred had to follow that show, but as always he is the rock of this relationship. (Clearly, making me the rolls.) He spoke of bringing Daddy into our home, and that although I asked it wasn't even a question - we were going to be the ones to care for and love him through. I am forever proud of the man I married, but it's a special thing to witness his story touch other survivors and caregivers; people that have personally lived similar stories.

From that point on, I never covered my head again (except when outside, because winter). I try looking back. To that Heather that just lost her dad, grieving; for months, she couldn't go a night without reliving his final week. She had given so much of herself, she didn't know what to do when he was gone. And now, the level of selfishness I feel...knowing Fred is giving of himself in the same way. We both needed this release. This welcoming. Into a tribe of people that are fighting to improve and save lives!

Punk Kid Going to D.C. Part II

Thrilled to announce, after less than 24 hours, we have already been able to close our funding page! Another pair of angels stepped in and offered to cover our remaining expenses. And once again, I'm a blubbering fool. Fred and I are both floored by your generosity, and we pray your kindness will be returned ten fold!

Years ago, when my dad was diagnosed, I quickly joined the "eff" cancer bandwagon. I was scared. And angry. And it felt right to curse its existence. I was only looking at the long list of negatives that followed cancer.

Eventually I learned in order to truly beat cancer, we would need to rise above. I was determined to find and focus all my energy on the beautiful things we experienced because of cancer. And the memories we were able to make with Daddy, far outweighed the nasty cancer stuff. In spite of all the tears and pain of my own cancer diagnosis, the beauty continue to surpass the ugliness of cancer!

How can I curse this experience?! This level of God. So when you are tempted to let loose a "eff" cancer, take pause. There is good there! And if you can't find any, give me a call. Because this...the kindness and generosity of family and friends and strangers, this isn't "eff" cancer THIS is us kicking cancer butt!

Punk Kid Going to D.C.

Beyond excited to announce, on December 7th, I opened an email letting me know I was selected as a 2017 Call-on Congress Scholar! They had over 50 applicants, and I was one of 16 selected "...because we were so compelled by your story and your passion for advocacy." And I just wanted to scream:  See Daddy, I'm telling our story!!! And I don't do small, we're going to Capitol Hill!

In March, I will be going to D.C. to learn how to be a Colon Cancer advocate. Then newly armed with that knowledge, we'll visit Capitol Hill to speak with our legislators. My goal is to work towards changing the perception that  colon cancer is an "old man's" cancer, and fight for earlier screening.

We will need help covering the cost of miscellaneous travel fees, so we've setup a YouCaring page for those that wish to donate. Go here.