October 24, 2021
Dear MBC,
We always have the choice—to complain or to count our blessings. A fellow thriver once said that. Yesterday, as I Raced for the Cure I counted my blessings and my steps. Each step represented a step forward. A step towards finding a cure. A step towards more research. A step into the future.
I could have chosen to complain about the map I created for my walk. It was a virtual walk. It took me onto Michigan Avenue and through the hospital campus. I didn’t complain. Instead, with each step, I chose to count my blessings. Let me take those of you reading this with me. So many of you cheered me on!
Lace up your sneakers. We're going for a walk.
The walk.
I pass a McDonald’s and thank Ronald for the milkshakes he served me when they were all that I could eat. Vanilla. I turn left and continue forward. I pass hospital staff probably returning to their cars after their shifts. I smile at them. They could be coming from Prentice Women’s Hospital. I purposely stop there and take a picture. It’s where my oncology team is and where I get my chemo. I silently thank my team for always walking besides me on this journey. Sometimes, they’re one step ahead. They never walk behind me. I continue on. As I walk towards Michigan Avenue I pause. I’m listening to music. I forgot to tell y’all that! I’ve listened to songs such as “Fight Song,” “You’ll Be Back,” “Go West,” and “Mi Gente.” My steps are speedy. I slow down. I turn left towards the fancy Reserve Starbucks that always baffles me with its’ long line. I don’t want to wait in the cold so I cross back over Michigan Avenue to stop at a regular Starbucks. Also, my neuropathy is kicking in and I’m a bit chilly. I figure the impromptu pit stop will help. In hindsight… that Starbucks is right next to the building where I had whole brain radiation and gamma knife surgery. I leave Starbucks with my hot chocolate. Fitting, as a Christmas song pops up on my playlist. It’s “Jingle Bell Rock” by The Brian Setzer Orchestra. As I walk down the block… drinking my cocoa… I think about when I saw the band perform in Palm Springs. I had produced the 6pm news that day. I remembered my drive to the concert and how much fun I had that warm desert night. As I reminisce a burst of cold wind hits my face and jerks me out of the warm past and into the chilly present. I’m standing in front of the Emergency Room. There are pillars outside the ER. Each pillar has a pink ribbon on it. I pause and snap a picture. I think, “Why are there just pink ribbons on these pillars?” You are missing MBC. The metastatic breast cancer ribbon is not represented. “Are we forgotten,” I question? I think of the tri-colored ribbon I have on my shirt and look at the emergency room sign. MBC… you brought me here multiple times. Each time I was a shell of a person. You had me feeling like crap! One time I had to be wheeled in. I could barely walk… but the wheelchair moved me forward into the ER and into the hospital. Always forward. Today, I stand in front of those doors grateful for that care and grateful that I survived. Not everyone leaves the hospital. I look up to the sky at the angels I can’t see but know are there. I take some sips of my cocoa and continue forward. I want to walk more but my body is starting to tell me it’s time to go home. My neuropathy is getting worse and now my lower back hurts. I have to listen to you MBC. I know if I don’t I’ll regret it. So… with each step to my apartment I count my blessings. My parents, my friends, my medical team, my ability to be mobile, my work…. my life. Those are all blessings. It’s a blessing that I’m able to do the virtual Walk for the Cure. As I enter my building and ride the elevator up I give myself a silent round of applause. I step off the elevator and into my apartment… moving forward. Always forward. #KeepGoing
Today, I’m resting. I’m sleeping. I’m stretching. Just because I’m resting doesn’t mean I’ve stop moving forward. Tomorrow I’ll take more strides. Until then… good night MBC.
Sincerely,
Jessica
