EVERYONE DESERVES A LIFETIME

The Twin Cities Breast Cancer 3-Day was this past weekend.  More than 2500 men and women walked 60 miles over the course of 3 days.  They trained for months.  They each raised at least $2,200 that will go to breast cancer research, education and community outreach programs.  More than 400 men and women volunteered to be a part of the crew that helped these walkers do what they needed to do.  You can imagine, with an event like this (and the 11 others held around the country this fall) how many cool things happen.  How impressive it can be to see 2500 men and women camp out over the weekend.  How amazing it is to see a magic city (a.k.a “Camp”) go up in just a few hours – complete with hot showers, hot meals and wireless web access.  If you’re my brother-in-law (or really any boy) you’d get such a charge out of seeing the haulers that take the equipment, stage and sound system from city to city.  You’d be amazed by the medical team set up.  You’d be shocked by the organization and the attention to detail and the methods used to keep people who are walking in 90 degree heat hydrated for 20 miles a day.  This weekend, in the Twin Cities, all of these things were overshadowed in my mind.  Not one of those things sticks out in my head.  What does stick out is a couch.

A burgundy, oversized couch.

Jody fought breast cancer for 4 years.  For a while, things looked good.  then, as so often happens, things looked not so good.  Last June, Jody lost her fight.

A couple of months later, Jody’s husband asked some relatives for some help in moving the couch from their house.  I can only imagine Jody spent a lot of time on that couch.  I can only think that when her husband, Dave, walked by that couch every day a heavy yank pulled on his heart. I can only guess it was a part of the healing to remove Jody’s couch.

On the way to take the couch to Jody’s niece – who was in college – family and friends stopped to cheer on the walkers in the 2006 Twin Cities Breast Cancer 3-Day.  Some of Jody’s family members had already planned on walking – and they decided it was more important than ever in those days just after she passed to do something. I’m not sure how it happened – it was explained to me by family members but I just may get some details wrong – but at some point in cheering on those walkers, they decided to pull the couch from the van.  A place for walkers to rest.  “Come sit!” they would call. And walkers would.  Walkers would laugh and crash on the couch.  They’d take a load off.  They’d giggle at a couch in the middle of nowhere.  They’d sigh.  They’d exhale.  They’d rest.  They would rest on Jody’s couch.

It was so much fun that the couch haulers decided to pack it up and drive a few miles up the route.  They found another “suitable” spot and yanked the couch out again.  Walkers would come around a corner and yell, “THE COUCH!”  and laugh.  And Jody’s family laughed too.  And I’m sure, somewhere, Jody was laughing.

So this year, 2007, the couch was back.  And not just the couch.  This year as walkers sat on Jody’s couch, they had their picture taken.  And then Jody’s family handed them a button.  A button with a picture of Jody smiling and the words, “I sat on Jody’s couch!”

The couch was there Friday.
I saw it many times Saturday.
I was told it was there Sunday.

Everybody loved the couch.  It seemed EVERYONE wore a button with Jody’s face on it.  Jody smiled so beautifully in that picture.  Walkers smiled when they came around a corner and saw the plush couch.  Crew members smiled in camp when they heard the story.  The couch made people happy.

But not me.  The couch broke my heart.  And I can’t even type this without nearly weeping.  And I get angry.  I get angry because Jody should be sitting on Jody’s couch.

Jody’s story is one of hundreds that I hear – I hear them every weekend.  Every story is heart-wrenching and gut turning and every time I am touched.  And no story is more powerful than the next.  No story of a battle lost is more devastating than the one before it and no story of a survivor is more exciting than the one that comes after.  They are all amazing.  But for some reason, Jody’s story took me over the edge.

And I got mad.

And here is where I will get preachy for a while and you must bear with me and listen to what I say here because it could save your life.

Every 3 minutes a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer
Every 13 minutes someone dies from breast cancer
2000 men are diagnosed each year with breast cancer
Millions of men and women are no longer here because of this disease.

Mothers.
Wives.
Sons.
Sisters.
Friends.

There is a 1 in 237 chance you will get in a fatal car accident in your life – which is why you wear your seatbelt… just in case.
66% of the current boomer generation will live to be 90 or older.  And yet, most of you carry life insurance – just in case.
Most of us have smoke detectors in our homes, wear sunscreen during the summer, change the oil in our cars … because we know what can happen if we don’t.

If you are a woman there is a one in 8 chance you will get breast cancer.  One in Eight.  “Just in case” doesn’t even seem sensible to say.  You must take charge of your life, of your breasts.  Feel your tits.  Know them.  Grab them.  Rub them.  Do your self-exam.  And if you are a man, and you have a wife, ask her if she’s doing her checks.  And if she’s not – then YOU do them.  YOU feel her chest. YOU rub them. And feel your own too.

The closest we have to a cure is early detection.  The earlier you find a problem, the better off you are.  My own cancer was discovered at stage 2 (of 4).  That’s one of the reasons I’m here today. 

Around the country this summer and fall thousands of men and women will sacrifice a weekend to walk 60 miles in the hopes they will raise enough awareness and enough money to make a difference.  They will suffer blisters and dehydration and sprained ankles.  They will train and spend time away from their families and take time off of work  and they will walk and cry and suffer and cheer and sweat and walk some more.  They aren’t super-athletes.  They aren’t super-heroes.  They just want women like Jody – and like you - to keep their couches. That’s what they are doing.  The least you can do is feel your front.

Then pat yourself on the back.

Jody deserved a lifetime. 
We all do.

The couch story

Comments

[Lori Hope]

Hi - I am walking in the Atlanta Breast Cancer 3day, I don't even know what to say. I am so excited to be doing something that I care so much about. My grandmother had cancer and my mother is a 6 year survivor. I am from MN and wish I was there to chear everyone on. What a great cause.

[Judy]

"The closest we have to a cure is early detection." Dang. Powerful. True. Sickening - considering the "brilliance" of our age. So I oscillate, like a big 'ol fan swaying left from compassion/empathy/passion and swaying right to angry/ticked/pissed all jumbled up somewhere in the middle and blowing up in my face without warning. Then I take a breath and pray and trust and hope and hope and hope that, indeed, we are ever closer to THE cure. Step by step closer... Yes! How healing that in their need Jody's family could "do" something meaningful, lasting with that big old couch - and that in their loss they could give - that's amazing. YES - JODY SHOULD BE IN HER OWN COUCH - but - it's the Jody's and the Abby-Jill's (my friend the Tiara-wearing sun queen- with inoperable breast cancer- given 1 year to live -2 years ago and walked MOST of Chicago's 60) - it's these amazing people that shake us to the core. Passion is fueled and we activate! We DO, we SAY, we FEEL , we Walk / crew / and we do it until the task is done - the battle's won. We continue so that not one precious life that's been robbed by this stinking disease will have been in vain. We continue until "Jody's" sit on their couches with their children & their grandchildren & dog & cat & husband and it gets worn thin and broken down while they read little Sally's history book where it talks about this horrible disease that was a plague on mankind - but whose cure was found by______...

Until then... we walk.

[Judy]

Oh, and thank you, thank you. You so beautifully articulated what's resounding in my heart and helped re-prime the pump...thank you...

[nat]

"The least you can do is feel your front.

Then pat yourself on the back."

Amen, sistah! I'm going to borrow that quote, but I'll be sure to attribute it to you!

And I'll keep walking, too.

[Erin]

Wow. I had tears running down my face while reading this. I also laughed at the image of the couch, imagining seeing that throughout the walk. Thank you for telling this story. It is an inspiration and a reminder to why we are walking.

[Jan Webster]

The couch was on the way to Jody's niece in college, not her daughter. Her children Ryan and Taylor are younger. Taylor is only 13. Great story though.

[Jenne]

Thanks for the correction, Jan. I've made the change in the post. See you in Chicago.

[Donna]

I first heard about Jodi's couch when I walked in San Diego in 2006. I thought what an amazing story. I had the pleasure of meeting Jodi's family and sitting on her couch in MN in 2007. This year I will proudly wear, my button that says "I sat on Jodi's Couch" and share her story and that of her very loving family. Everyone does deserve a lifetime!!!!!!

[Jodi]

WOW...Im at a loss for words. What an incredible story.
See you in Chicago.
-Jodi
In loving Memory of my Aunt Julie

[Caroline]

Great story...my eyes are wet... I am joining the walk this year '09 in San Diego. CANNOT wait...

[Rose Knox]

I walked Cleveland 2009 for the first time. I laughed and I cried at this story. I know Jody was smiling down on me and I will continue to walk in her honor. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

Rose Knox