Why do I support LIVESTRONG? For my children

As I get closer to this year's LIVESTRONG Challenge, which marks the end of the 2012 fundraising year, I decided that I would share a little bit more every day about why I support LIVESTRONG.

Today's thoughts focus on my children, specifically, the programs that LIVESTRONG helps come to fruition to support all kids touched by cancer.

When I talk about programs like this, I'm not talking about programs for children currently fighting cancer, though I know LIVESTRONG works with organizations that do. I'm talking about providing support for a population of children that tend to fall between the awkward cracks of not having cancer themselves, but being too young to be considered "caregivers" and therefore can't find that kind of assistance and community. I'm talking about the children of cancer fighters, and those who live in a household or have a close family member who has fought or has been fighting.

Thanks to LIVESTRONG, my daughter was able to attend a 1-week camp called Camp Kesem, at no cost, in Connecticut this summer where she was able to enjoy herself and bond with other kids in the unique, and difficult, situation of having had a parent or loved one fight cancer. (My son was supposed to attend, but unfortunately, the night before, he was told by his doctors that pneumonia, which landed him in the hospital a couple of days later... but that's neither here nor there.)

For my YJ and Jewish friends, yes, that is "Kesem," as in "Magic," in Hebrew. (And, yes, they play gaga!) To quote Camp Kesem's website:

Working with Hillel at Stanford, staff member Iris Rave helped the four student leaders set up Camp Kesem. The group chose the word Kesem, which means “magic” in Hebrew, because its goal was to bring “magic” to families coping with cancer. Since its inception, Camp Kesem has been open to student leaders and campers of any religion, race or ethnicity.Thanks to the hard work of many student leaders, Camp Kesem at Stanford hosted 37 campers at its first one-week summer camp in 2001.

Thanks to their tenacity, and LIVESTRONG's grant, Camp Kesem is able to hold 1-week camps all over the country. LIVESTRONG's contribution includes:

"Through the 2011 Community Impact Project LIVESTRONG will fund the replication of this program at 12 universities with seed funding of $10,000 per campus. These funds will not go directly to the school, but will instead be managed by Camp Kesem for students to use towards camp expenses. Initial trainings and communication will begin in the summer of 2011 with the award covering a 12-month period. The camps funded through this cycle will be held in the summer of 2012. This program is entirely student run, and requires input and work from a broad group of students as well as the university itself to succeed. Students implementing the program would be responsible for additional fundraising for the program to succeed and continue on an annual basis."

The bottom line? My daughter, who fed me grilled cheese sandwiches upon demand, took on the laundry and other household chores, would comfort me after chemo and surgeries, make me special breakfasts every morning I had chemotherapy, snuggle and help keep herself entertained while I was fighting, got to meet other kids who went through similar experiences, bond with other kids who knew how she felt as opposed to having kids that really didn't have a clue try and sympathize, and the chance to feel free enough to express her emotions without fear of hurting anyone else, like me, about how unfair cancer is.

And above all else, she was able to smile. Not be strong for someone else, not show a game face, but just smile and help others smile.

Photos speak 1,000 words. These photos speak words to last a lifetime.

My daughter and her new friend, whom she met on Day 1.They now talk online regularly to keep in touch.

With Jack Bouffard, a fellow LIVESTRONG Leader.

Home at last with her Grumpy!

This is just one parent's experience of how Camp Kesem changed their child's confidence and made her feel like she wasn't in this alone. If it weren't for LIVESTRONG's grants, think of how many kids wouldn't have this chance? With LIVESTRONG's support, think of how many kids, that wouldn't ordinarily get support for their ordeal, can create a community for themselves.

Help continue to support programs like Camp Kesem by making a contribution today to my LIVESTRONG Challenge account.

What I learned from First Descents and... What's Next?

It's hard to believe it's been a full week since I've returned. That's got something to do with the fact that I learned en route to home in Dallas that my son had been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia a couple of days earlier, but my folks didn't want to worry me while I was in Colorado and didn't tell me. Or the fact that I just finished up my Z-Pak after contracting bronchitis as a result of mild altitude sickness and spent Saturday night through Tuesday sleeping in bed with my bottle of cough syrup spiked with codeine.

Either way, it's hard to believe that it's been a full week and a day since I crested the top of The Castle and were with these amazing people.

But it's given me time to reflect, through these blogs, and in those moments at work when I'm waiting for a call or an email.

First, I can't wait to do my next First Descents adventure. I only wish they had their 2013 schedule set up so I could pick my next adventure.

Second, I have unfinished business at The Castle. I need to rappel down that damned cliff. No ifs ands or buts. I have to rappel that cliff. So I'm already trying to figure out how I can afford to go and when I can get back to Estes Park and book with Colorado Mountain School.

Lastly, as much work as I have ahead of me, I still got it. Yes, I'm getting winded so much faster than before. Yes, I was surprised at the amount of leg strength I have to rebuild vs. upper body strength. But I do still have it in me.

Which leads me to what's next: two major events - one I'm running and one in which I'm participating.

• The 3rd Annual ROCK the RIDGE is coming up fast on September 23. We desperately need volunteers, so if you're interested, let me know. Additionally, there are still spots open, but pre-register fast - since this is our first year as a Season Finale event, we don't know how soon it's going to be before those floodgates open! This is such a fun Mountain Bike Race & Fun Ride!
• The LIVESTRONG Challenge: Austin. This is a mac-daddy event, and one with which I have unfinished business. Yes, I went last year despite having started chemo. And, yes, I got on the bike. But I didn't even make it 10 miles.
  
  In all honestly, it's bloody embarrassing to me. I have to rock this out this year.
  
  I'm not saying I'm going to do the full 90-miles. But I'd like to at least make it to 25? Or more?
  
  But, I need my cheerleaders. I really need to kick my training in gear.
  
  I need to know you have my backs. And, frankly, the easiest way for me to know that is if you could find it in you to make a gift to my LIVESTRONG Challenge Account. That provides a solid, money-where-your-mouth-is promise from you to me that you have my back, and from me to you that I will fight hard - harder than for myself - for you. You are my sponsors. My employers, if you will, and I won't let you down.
  
  Think of it this way - for only $10 or more, you could sponsor an athlete. How cool!

I'm ready to start training. I'm ready to face my fears of the bike, now, and finish 2012 on 2-wheels once more.

Imagine what I'll be able to do, if, with your help, I meet my 2012 goals, in the year 2013?!

Patience is a virtue learned...

I was a child of the instant gratification generation long before the internet, affordability of overnight shipping, text messaging and Twitter. Impatience defined my first 23 years. As soon as I was ready for something, I expected it. Now. I saw no virtue in waiting for the inevitable.

I my adolescence and early adulthood, I rushed to "the point" many times. In relationships, I instigated far more serious commitments too early, either tying me too tightly to the wrong people, or driving them away. As a result, part of me sincerely believes that I killed what should have been a love of a lifetime - one of the only genuine regrets I have in my life.

I first began my lesson not to rush everything in my life when I decided I was old enough to get married at 23. Plain and simple, I was an idiot to believe it. But, I did it, so be it. I got 2 wonderful children out of the marriage, and I had the first cancerous tumor that was sucking the life out of me removed in the divorce - my ex-husband.

When I first started working when I graduated college, there were jobs  a'plenty, so I never went more than a day or two without employment. But, when September 11 burst the economic bubble we were riding on, and everyone and their brother was getting laid off left and right, I didn't get a job as soon as I called my employment agency contacts. I didn't even get an interview. I was making dozens of call a day at the out-sourcing agency my former employer had provided to me, and I was lucky if I got an interview once a week over the phone. During my entire stay there, I had only gotten 2 face-to-face interviews. I was crawling the walls. But, soon, I got a job offer and I took it blindly. I grabbed it. And that's what I did for years - the first job offer I got, I took. I didn't want to risk anything. I didn't know there'd be anything else. And I paid for it, to an extent. I took jobs I should have reconsidered. I made concessions in title and salary that set a precedence. I've only recently learned not to do that. But at a great cost.

All of these stumbling blocks, however, still hadn't quelled my need for wanting what I wanted. Now. I wanted to snap my fingers and have the pieces that I knew would fall into place inevitably to fall already.

Maybe that's why I've settled into project management in one regard or another professionally - either as a Project Manager, or simply implementing timelines, schedules, efficiency and streamlining processes around me with or without invitation.

It's funny how cancer - in every regard - is an absolute slap in this compulsive face. There is no rushing cancer. Cancer, the treatments, the doctors, the recovery, runs on its own time. Everyone knows that G-d created the world in 7 days. My philosophy until cancer was that if G-d could do it in 7 days, than the foolish, mundane demands I had could be easily done within my timelines - I was my own god in my own world - when I declared that it was evening and it was morning with my internet order, my conflict resolution, etc, it was so. Call me Jean-Luc.

But you can't do that with cancer.

I'm reminded of when I was at Bi-Cultural as a young student, and learning - בראשית - the creation story. My teacher explained that, yes, literally, the Torah says Day 1, Day 2, etc. But if that were the case, dinosaurs wouldn't have had time to live and die before Day 6. How do we explain this discrepancy? G-d's days weren't the 24-hours we, humanity, know and live by. Because G-d is infinite, G-d's days could be a millenia. Those 7 "G-d" Days covered the expanse of thousands of years. Even G-d couldn't snap fingers and have things done in a "human" flash.

In July and August, I was calling the shots as best I could. I had a timeline - surgery had to be done before the kids came home from camp. Yes, the tests would take a couple of weeks, which was too long for my taste, but so be it. But things had to be done. Now. And they were. And that's where my timeline went out the proverbial cancer window. Yes, chemo was scheduled around the LIVESTRONG Challenge in Austin in October. But what I wasn't expecting was that my body was still recovering from the surgery, let alone the first bout of chemo. I hadn't thrown up, become frail and ill the second day after chemo - hence, I was fine. Yes, my hair was falling out, and I was a little weaker, but no biggie.

Well, that landed me in the hospital for 2 weeks with an infection, and "benched" from activity. I'm still benched. 5 months later. 2 weeks after my last surgery, and I'm just now getting the drains removed.

Maybe it's been this extended period of time on my butt, not in the saddle, or in walking shoes, for that matter, that has finally taught me the lesson of patience. At least, in some regards. I'd be lying if I said all regards. I still expect stuff I order online to show up on my doorstep within an hour. When I call someone and leave a message, I expect a call back within seconds.

But I'm starting to learn patience.

Don't try mine, yet, though. I'm a work in progress. So have patience with me.

Patriots fan? Giants fan? No matter, we all hate cancer, right?

I've got a Kick Cancer Super Bowl Pool open from now until Sunday at 5:30 pm EST. The good news? For every $10 donated, you get one square on the grid. The better news? The winners of the pool will get some awesome LIVESTRONG SWAG, including backpacks, t-shirts, hats, etc. The really great news? You'll have taken strides to help LIVESTRONG support survivors and fighters, like me, kick cancer straight through the goalposts and out of the stadium.

I beat cancer in my last Super Bowl matchup - chemotherapy was the field, and I scored the final touchdown.

Enter my Super Bowl pool, and help me and others fight for survivorship with Team LIVESTRONG.

Good luck!

(Of course, maybe I should make Pats fans pay $20... :)  Nah, it's all good. A die-hard NY fan like me is willing to look the other way... this time.)

Please visit http://laf.convio.net/goto/RicaRocksAustin2012 today!

My response to Outside Magazine's article "It's Not About the Lab Rats"

Mr. Gifford,

I read this article just 1/2 hour after returning from my oncologist's & plastic surgeon's offices reviewing the next steps of my post-chemotherapy treatment. My heart is racing, I have tears in my eyes and an adrenaline surge that could get me up the Alpes d'Huez, despite having endured 5 months of chemo and off the bike. A chemotherapy treatment that was scheduled around my participation at the LIVESTRONG Challenge in October. You see, I've been a LIVESTRONG Leader and fundraiser for going on 3 years, now. Long before my diagnosis in July. Ironic, I know, that I'd be such an ardent advocate when I hadn't fought cancer myself. But I was a new cyclist, I had a mentor who was diagnosed a second time, just as Lance was launching his comeback, so I got involved.

And then I met the people in LIVESTRONG. Not just the staff, but the people who were moved by LIVESTRONG. The ones who had survived cancer. And the ones who supported those whose time ran out in their fight and were carried on the backs of LIVESTRONG Leaders, the staff and others affiliated with the organization. It was clear that, yes, as a marketing professional, I recognize that the organization is incredibly savvy, creating buzzwords and catch phrases that stick. But there is a reason they stick. Because they have meaning to us.

Do you want to know why every dollar donated to LIVESTRONG is so important, as opposed to pure clinical research? And why your arrogant article is worth nothing more than bird cage lining to a survivor? Of course, cancer needs to be eradicated, and the only way that the disease itself will disappear is through medical advances. But the effects of cancer on the people who have it, who have fought it, and those that surround that individual can never be erased by a new chemotherapy, a new surgical procedure, or a berry in the rainforest. The only way that kind of healing can happen is empowerment. Hope. A sense that there is something one can do when you're not in a research lab. When all you have are two legs, a heart, and the desire to do something.

Awareness. If it weren't for their awareness campaigns, I would have never gotten that mammogram in June. You see, I'm well below the 40-line. It would have been a few years before I had a routine mammogram. But it was reminders about taking care of myself, early detection etc, that LIVESTRONG promoted that made me, as a LIVESTRONG Leader, feel obligated to take the opportunity to have a free mammogram when the office park where I work held a health fair. Had it not been for LIVESTRONG's awareness campaigns, I wouldn't have done it. And the very tiny, but highly aggressive invasive breast cancer that was set so deeply in my breast, that no manual or routine breast exam would have detected until it was dangerously too late, would have never been detected in time for my relatively "simple" treatment. A treatment which included a double mastectomy (as I also discovered I had the BRCA II genetic mutation), a 2-week stay in the hospital with an infection and another surgery, 5 months of chemotherapy, and now, two more reconstructive surgeries and 5 years of hormone treatment.

That's where LIVESTRONG plays, in my opinion, the most valuable part in the fight against cancer. Lance never said, "I'm going to cure cancer." Find me one pamphlet that LIVESTRONG has issued that says, "Our mission is to find the cure for cancer." But it does say, and it does achieve, that it will give the cancer fighter, and those around them, the support, navigation, and motivation to find a reason in themselves to survive.

There is no doubt in my mind that if it weren't for EVERYTHING that LIVESTRONG does, from the silicone wristband I wore throughout every surgery, and gave very clear instruction to all nurses and techs that over my dead body were they to remove that band from my wrist while I was unconscious, that reminded me to be strong throughout this hellacious experience, to a Tweet from Lance and others who have been through this the day after my double mastectomy, that I would not have been able to come through this fight sane, hopeful, and with the tenacity to live on beyond cancer.

How DARE you write this, as though LIVESTRONG were nothing more than a whimsical revenue stream for a selfish man? Mr. Gifford, if you had seen the smiles on my children's faces in October when we met Lance, smiles like I hadn't seen on their faces since before I told them I had cancer in July, you wouldn't be questioning the work that LIVESTRONG does. Lance and the organization promises hope, drive, fight, and survivorship. And they deliver on that promise. My 13 year-old son, who has been through hell and back, rode 90 miles in October. Do you know why? Because, after seeing so many people fighting so hard throughout the Challenge, who had been through so much, and knowing how badly I wanted to ride beyond the 10 mile mark but couldn't, he explained, "I rode the 90 miles for my mom because she can't."

My 10-year old daughter was scared every day that cancer was going to kill me, despite reassurances from doctors, friends, family and me. It wasn't until she met Lance, she spoke with the staff at LIVESTRONG, who treated her like gold, and saw all those other mommies who had breast cancer, too, ride through the Yellow Mile and collect their yellow roses, that she realized I wasn't going to die, and that I'd be riding my bike, and living and loving life just like before. And that she didn't have to worry that I was going to die. That weight on her shoulders was too much, but it was LIVESTRONG that helped her lift that off of her shoulders and see how strong she, and I, were and that we'd make it through this.

Komen, by the way, whom you laud in the article, did NOTHING for us. I've long been skeptical of their "pinking" tactics, but when I was diagnosed, I decided to let bygones be bygones and reach out to my local office to see what support they might have, programs, etc. I called, left messages, emailed repeatedly. What was the response? They turned a blind eye to me when I reached out to them, looking for help, advice, and hope. All I got was a barrage of emails asking me to donate to them.

I pray that you never have to face this disease head on, personally. But if you do, try it without Lance,   LIVESTRONG or the programs and materials that they provide by your side for just one day and see how well you do. I guarantee you that not long after that day, you'll be wearing yellow silicone on your wrist soon enough. And, hopefully, publishing a retraction and an apology to those of us who feel so incredibly grateful for LIVESTRONG and to the 28 million living with cancer today that Lance and the good people at the LAF work so hard for every day.

- Rica Mendes

South Salem, NY

Chemo Round 3 Day 18: Embracing My Inner Sloth

Ah, yes, post-surgery/chemo couch potatohood has struck, and my waistline, ability to move, etc, has paid the price. I'm on the verge of becoming one of those people who has to be surgically removed from their sofa as their flesh has interwoven with the upholstery. Help me! Help me!

As always, feel free to donate to my fundraising efforts benefiting LIVESTRONG: http://laf.convio.net/goto/RicaRocksAustin2012

Organizing My Life's Timeline... on Facebook

Recently, Facebook upgraded/downgraded their format (up or down depending on how you feel), and now you have the option of displaying a Timeline. In classic form, events are marked in a running timeline from birth until the present. Facebook has tried to automatically take status updates and photos that were uploaded/posted to the timeline, but of course, there are some photos that may have been from events much earlier in life that need to have their dates updated.

While waiting for some emails from work, I decided to hop onto Facebook and start going through my albums, updating photos with places, dates and defining "life events." In so doing, I ran across photos from the first LIVESTRONG Challenge I participated in - the 2010 Philadelphia LIVESTRONG Bike Ride. Some of those photos were tagged with the name, "Ryan Weiss," my friend whom I was supposed to meet at the Challenge, but he'd just left the hospital and was unable to attend. Sadly, Ryan passed not long after thanks to a tumor that came back with a vengeance. It was the first time that I'd seen Lance in person, it was my first time riding in a peloton of that size, and my first taste of what the LIVESTRONG organization was capable of doing.

As I click through photo after photo in my Facebook album, I'm struck by the final photo, with the caption, "I gots me a secret LIVESTRONG admirer."

As I've blogged about in the past, the yellow roses are handed out to cancer survivors as they cross the finish line. Survivors go through a designated chute so that they can receive this honor and an extra special welcome. In August of 2010, I did not go through the Survivors Only chute, as I was riding in honor of my friend, Ryan Weiss, and I had not had cancer. So I thought.

But, as you can see in the photo above, when I returned to my bike after, what had been a most wet afternoon, someone had very purposefully woven a yellow Survivor rose in my front wheel. And, I highly doubt that they could have gotten my bike mixed up with someone elses. My bike has bright purple tires and brake/shifter cables, deep purple water bottle cages, and "I Ride For" stickers for Ryan and my grandmother up and down the frame.

At the time, if course, I was tickled by the idea that someone wanted to give me a rose. Was it from an admirer? A LIVESTRONG friend who was a Survivor but hadn't had the chance to say goodbye? Someone who thought my bike was cool?

But, now, part of me wonders, "What could this person have known or sensed that I didn't? Do Survivors somehow have a magical 'cancer detector,' and were somehow warning me of what was to come one year later?"

There has been no question that, in many ways, the universe was sending me many messages over the past year, and, looking at this photo, perhaps this was the first visual 'sign' that I was destined to earn a rose.

Without question, I would not have gotten that fateful mammogram last June had it not been for LIVESTRONG.

For that, I ask that you consider making a donation to LIVESTRONG.

To do so, simply go to http://laf.convio.net/goto/RicaRocksAustin2012 and click on "Donate to Rica!" on the left. If you need to mail in your donation, just click on "Read More" towards the bottom of the screen and then you'll see a link for a printable form.

I hope to bring in 100 donations for LIVESTRONG by end of day Sunday, 12/25/2011 in my effort to raise $25,000 for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Donations of any size are very welcome.

Thank you and happy holidays!