My mom faced breast cancer like the trouper she is.  She squared her shoulders, took the chemical beatings, and shouldered on.  Did she falter?  Did she cry?  I’m sure she did.  But as she has for all of my life, she kept her sorrow private, wiped her tears, and put the fighting gloves on for the rest of it.

Because my mom is like this, I knew she’d go in fighting.  But I didn’t know how hard it would be to watch her fight.  I didn’t know what it would feel like to see her lose her hair, select her scarves, draw on her eyebrows, and still make it to the grocery store.  I didn’t know that even if she beat the cancer, the after-effects of the poison that killed it would linger, reminding us all of the silent stalker that came after her.

And it’s not just her.  My mother-in-law’s dear, dear friend lost her battle recently, with my mother-in-law by her side.  My friend Janet’s mom fought breast cancer over 10 years ago.  Last year it returned, and she’s fighting again.  Another friend – a mom of 4 young boys – is battling breast cancer right now.  She’s not even 40. 

Is it surprising that every 3 minutes someone in the United States is diagnosed with breast cancer?  You know someone, right?  Sure you do.  We all do.  It’s that scary.  And yet in the midst of the fear, there’s hope.  Hope remains because—like my mom, and Janet’s mom, and my mother-in-law’s friend, and my young girlfriend—there are a lot of fighters in this world, and some of them are doctors who are working hard to find a cure. As they fight that fight, they need our help.  They need our funds.

There are a million different ways to contribute.  You might recall that last year some friends and I walked in the Race for the Cure, with their pretty pink port-a-potties. 

We walked our 5 miles and made our donations, and I hope we do it again next year.  

And recently, I heard from my old college friend, Amy, whom I met when we were just 18 and full of certainty, and with whom I spent a semester of college trolling around Europe.  Amy was planning to walk in Avon’s Walk for Breast Cancer in Boston and she sent out an e-mail letting friends and family know they could contribute.  And my, oh my, did they!

On May 16 & 17, Amy joined 2,500 others who walked 39.3 miles to raise money for this fight.  Her friends and family contributed over $3000—part of the more than $5.6 million raised and given as grants to Boston area organizations.  Amy said that the most moving part of the experience came when she was randomly chosen, as one walker was every three minutes, and “draped with a large pink ribbon banner that read, ‘Every Three Minutes.’”  As she continued her walk, Amy said that she “thought about the woman who had just learned of her battle ahead.  I walked with new purpose for her,” she said, “and for all of the other fighters.”

Forget about trolling around Europe.  This is my new memory of my friend, and I thank her from the bottom of my heart.