On Sunday night I completed my second Breast Cancer 3 Day event of this year.  This year I didn’t walk the 60 miles in 3 days as I have done in the past, but instead was part of the all-volunteer team that supports the walkers known as “Crew.”  Each time I meet with 3 Day people, my faith in human beings is restored.  Almost to a person they are caring individuals – young and old, women and men – who are part of a community dedicated to raising money to find a cure for breast cancer.

                 One of the people I met this past weekend will stay with me for a long time.  Our team was in charge of Pit Stop 3.  Every 2-3 miles along the daily route, there are stops where walkers can go pee (in lovely port-a-potties), get their water and Gatorade bottles refilled and grab a snack.  Sometimes when the lines aren’t too long for an orange slice or a PB&J “uncrustable,” we have time to chat with the walkers.  This young woman was wearing a t-shirt that declared “I AM MORE THAN MY BOOBS.”  I complimented her on her shirt and she told me that she wears it because she doesn’t have breasts.  I asked her age.  She is 26 years old and was diagnosed with breast cancer at 25 and had a double mastectomy.  And by the time we had met, she had walked over 55 miles.  And she had a beaming smile.  She’s one of the reasons why I participate.

                 If you spend the time to talk to other participants, you are invariably asked why you participate.  And I have my pat story (I say it really quickly so that I don't start crying).  When I started in 2002, I was unaffected by breast cancer and looked at the 60 miles in 3 days as a great personal challenge.  I trained with a good friend.  Eighteen months after we completed our walk, she was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer.  Less than 18 months after that, she died as a result of breast cancer.

                 Since this weekend, a simple little song has been going through my mind.  Maybe you remember the theme song to the tv show “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father”?  “Best Friend” by Harry Nilsson.  It goes like this:

 People let me tell you 'bout my best friend,
He's a warm hearted person who'll love me till the end.
People let me tell you bout my best friend,
He's a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy.

People let me tell you 'bout him he's so much fun
Whether we're talkin' man to man or whether we're talking son to son.
Cause he's my best friend.
Yes he's my best friend.

           All of the words don’t fit, but the sentiments do.  Nancy was my true BFF.  If you had been at a party with her, you probably wouldn’t have met her.  She was the one standing on the edge of the room watching others.  But if you did talk with her, you met a smart, funny, caring person.  She could be impulsive and yet she sometimes over-thought decisions.  She had a laugh that I still hear – infectious.

           We had some adventures together – road trips, a last-minute-because-the-fare-is-so-cheap weekend trip to London, sleeping in a parking lot waiting for Beanie Babies, concerts.  We could talk to each other about things that no one else cared about.  She helped me pull the 80s upholstery off our walls, even though she had asthma and had to wear a mask because of the 20+ years of accumulated dust.  The list goes on.

           But Nancy is the reason I participate in the 3 Day and work as an education volunteer for the local Susan G. Komen for the Cure affiliate.  You see, Nancy’s mother died at 54.  Nancy didn’t get mammograms.  She said, “If I get it, I don’t want to know.”  This sounds incredibly ridiculous, especially coming from a smart, savvy woman.  But she watched her mother go through treatment(s), suffer and still die.  And she didn’t want that.  The rational part of her mind did not kick in and say “that was 20 years ago and things might be different.”  She was paralyzed by fear.  As a result of her fear, she suffered the same fate as her mother – at the same age her mother had been.  So you see, if one woman has a mammogram because of something I said and is diagnosed early and survives, Nancy’s death is not quite as stupid.

I wear this at the Race for the Cure events I attend and when I walk in the 3 Day.