2011 TUMORS SUCK PAINTBALL BENEFIT

A TEASER FOR THE 2011 TUMORS SUCK PAINTBALL BENEFIT VIDEO BY Forever Cherished Productions.

Top 10 Blessings Since Being Diagnosed With A Brain Tumor

Well, I started out down a dirty road

Started out all alone

And the sun went down as I crossed the hill

And the town lit up, the world got still

Tom Petty, Learning to Fly, Into the Great Wide Open 1991

1. Discovering the mAss Kickers Foundation and all of the incredible advocates, patients, survivors, and other organizations that are tied in with the MKF

2. Meeting the most dedicated doctor that I know, my neurologist, who will answer any call, text, or email no matter what time of the day or night I need her

3. Meeting the loving, energetic men and women that make up the Great Lakes Rangers and F.U.B.A.R. paintball teams

4. Gaining a greater understanding of the medical world around me which includes technology, doctors, treatment options, facilities, and diagnoses

5. Realizing how precious life is and how lucky I am to be alive

6. Providing me with experiences that taught me to be more patient with others

7. Teaching me to take charge of my life and make decisions that best suit my needs

8. Forcing me to listen to my body even if I'd like to pretend that I'm 100% healthy at all times

9. Allowing me to realize that no matter how bad a situation might seem, there is always someone worse off
10. Realizing that life is more than sports and school; it’s about relationships and the impact that you make on the world around you

Top 10 list of Brain Tumor "Thank Yous"

Hey Brain Tumor, Thanks For:

1. Introducing me to so many incredible survivors, organizations, and advocates.
2. Messing up my balance and coordination, allowing me to get The mAss Kicker Mobile
3. Making me realize there is no good strategy to fight ALL tumors. So we created one.
4. Teaching me that I can accomplish anything if I have a good plan.
5. Helping me appreciate all "the little things"
6. Allowing me to use my knowledge picked up in school to fight back against ALL tumors!
7. Forcing me to recreate myself and allowing me to use my creativity.
8. Pissing me off and forcing me to retaliate!
9. Making me more "immature" and allowing me to find humor in everything...
10. Giving me a new direction in life.

Here's to Not Moving On

Tumors have an incredible—maybe even ironic—sense of humor, timing. At least mine did. I’d had a six-month cough and who-knows-for-how-long lumps in my collarbone area before I finally saw a doctor. It was the same day that I rocked an interview for a new job and the day before I was headed to upstate New York for a month-long writing residency that I was awarded.

I thought I was in the clear when I told the Ear, Nose, & Throat specialist, “No, I haven’t had night sweats or fevers.” I thought that the lost weight, sleep, energy, and appetite were part of a post-lay-off depression. I thought the writing retreat would lift me up.

Not true.

I cancelled New York and turned down the job. I gave up writing. I did, however, get night sweats and low-grade fevers for the next twenty-two days. And just for fun, I got head-to-toe hives from a newly discovered allergy to amoxicillin the weekend before my surgery.

Well played, tumors.

I was officially diagnosed with Stage 2b Hodgkin’s in April 2010. I was 32, unemployed, uninsured, and poor, having cleaned out my savings just to get diagnosed. The irony? When I first noticed the symptoms, I had insurance and saw a PCP, but she wasn’t too concerned. More irony? I was denied emergency MediCal because my cancer wasn’t bad enough. (That’s a blog post in its own right.) After a financial freak out, I finally received emergency medical coverage, not insurance, through San Diego County. I had to swear that my net worth was zero.

But science is funny, too.

The original game plan was eight infusions of ABVD + high-dose radiation; then it was four infusions + low-dose radiation. Never mind that I was in remission after four. Stopping treatment then was unheard of for my case. In the end, I survived twelve chemo sessions but no radiation, give or take six months. I was hospitalized for pneumonia when I was almost finished, however—my ten-day Thanksgiving staycation at the ritzy Thornton in La Jolla delaying treatments for over a month.

While I make an effort to avoid speaking in hyperbole and sweeping—my god, the sweeping—generalizations, I must admit that hooking up with The Hodge was probably The Worst Day of My Humble Life. (See, I even inserted a “probably” to save myself the trouble of printing out this page and literally eating my own words.)

Forget heartbreaks and drama, discovering horrible secrets, house-shattering arguments with family, bad grades, ugly days, and the Boss from Hell. That April was exactly what T.S. Eliot described in The Wasteland as “the cruelest month,” kicking off a surreal and challenging year.

I think most survivors feel this way, having seen those dark places. Our initiation into this unknown territory feels lonely, even when our caregivers and friends stand by or carry us. I’ve discovered, though, the unparalleled support of fellow survivors and thrivers—a secret society of like-minded mAsskicking individuals who corroborate and collaborate, swap stories and show off scars. Instant bonding is known to happen, commiseration in masses (pun fully intended).

But it’s the “after” that’s difficult, when we need the most support and empathy. We must be patient with ourselves, remembering that healing is not about moving on. It’s about moving.

So I am. Slowly.

I’m writing, driving myself around town, applying for jobs, re-watching The Wire with good friends, brainstorming projects, enjoying food, learning drums on a beat-up kit in the middle of a cramped living room, meeting and conspiring with new people, traveling, reflecting, remembering, sometimes slipping, sometimes crying—out of guilt, relief, astonishment, but mostly a quiet gratitude.

Even in the act of moving, one can and is allowed to stumble.

Yes, the business of having cancer is individualized. Yes, each story is unique. Yes, it IS lonely. But we don’t have to be alone. My story could be your story. Your story is my story. All of these stories intersect and have traversed the same ground. These stories are on a continuum, forging and adding to a narrative much larger than we expected, one with deep histories and global trajectories.

Yes. This…is Our Story.

Metro Detroit Girl with Brain Tumor Fighting Back with Paintball

Metro Detroit Girl with Brain Tumor Fighting Back with Paintball: MyFoxDETROIT.com

Inaugural TUMORS SUCK! Benefit Dinner

Last night I attended the Inaugural Tumors Suck Benefit Dinner at the Fenton Moose Lodge in Fenton, MI. The evening was highlighted by performances by two young bands, Easy Vibe and Expanse of the Unknown. The event was the first mAss Kickers benefit with live performances. Booth Bands ROCKED THE HOUSE and an impressive amount of money was raised for mAss Kickers Foundation thanks to the hard work and leadership of Sean and Terrie Lapham, Angel Bureau, and Andrew Wlodyga. It was great seeing these youngsters Rock Out to jams I would normally listen. It put a smile on my face hearing random people say "TUMORS SUCK!". It not something you hear very often. I think it is an attitude that is hard to find after getting an intimidating tumor or cancer diagnosis.

Tumors Suck! is an Awareness campaign by mAss Kickers Foundation, but I think it can be used to unite survivors and our loved ones against these horrible diseases. I think "TUMORS SUCK!" is an ATTITUDE that newly diagnosed patients and their loved ones need to effectively battle these horrible diseases. Fear of the unknown is very intimidating. People need to fight back. I believe that no one should give up or lie down when faced with an intimidating new tumor or cancer diagnosis. I believe in completely the opposite. We need to confidently stand up and "declare war on these diseases." Adopting the right ATTITUDE to fight these diseases is only the first step. Our TUMORS SUCK! Campaign is only the first step in a strategy to combat these horrible diseases.

This weekend is the 3rd Tumors Suck Paintball Benefit... Stay tuned...

originally posted 8-1-11 on ericgalvezdpt.com

NYC Walk to Beat the Clock 2011

On May 5^th, 2011, I marked my second year of being cancer free and God willing I will be cancer free for a lifetime. Cancer changed my life; I thank God for my second shot at life as my priorities have changed and I am proud to call myself a Cervical Cancer Survivor.

In September 2009, I did a cervical cancer walk for the first time (Walk to Beat the Clock!). At the walk, I found inspiration in seeing many cervical cancer survivors telling their stories to help other women understand that through awareness and prevention this disease can be entirely eliminated. So, I joined their movement and now I am the President of Tamika and Friends, Inc. -New York City Chapter. Tamika and Friends, Inc. is a national non-profit organization dedicated to raising awareness about cervical cancer and its link to the Human Papilloma Virus (HPV). It was founded in 2005 by Cervical Cancer survivor and advocate Tamika Felder.

On September 17th, 2011 Tamika & Friends is having their 4th annual NYC Walk to Beat the Clock to help beat the clock on cervical cancer because timing is everything. We want to publicly celebrate women who have survived, remember those who have lost their battle, support those who fight cervical cancer today and educate women on how to prevent a cervical cancer diagnosis all together!

Cervical Cancer is preventable, yet 11 women die each day from this disease. I do not want any other woman to go through what I did and become another statistic. I am committed to the eradication of cervical cancer along with Tamika & Friends.

Please join us in the fight to end cervical cancer and either register to walk or consider donating to this cause very near and dear to my heart. You can visit the following link to register, donate or volunteer. www.walktobeattheclock.org