Cancer—Something That’s Touched Us All

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One of the most beautiful aspects of blogging is that a fellow writer will post something that connects personally. The other day, my blogging friend Beth, who has a unique ability to find beauty in the most unexpected places, shared a quote from Jim Valvano. https://ididnthavemyglasseson.com/2022/03/16/28835/ I’m betting most bloggers have never heard of Coach Valvano (Jimmy V).

This is the time of March Madness—the annual end-of-the-year NCAA basketball tournament made up of the top 68 college teams. Those who follow college basketball closely may know that Valvano and his team, the unheralded North Carolina St. Wolfpack, captured the 1983 NCAA men’s basketball tournament as a huge underdog.

While that was an incredible accomplishment, this is not a sports story. Valvano succumbed to cancer in 1993 at the age of 47. Two months earlier, he delivered one of the most moving ten-minute speeches that demonstrated his character, courage, sense of humor, and compassionate nature. (See below) I felt inspired by the power of his words, selflessness, and desire to do something not for himself but for future generations. Here was a man who got it—that we should embrace this beautiful opportunity called life and take nothing for granted.

Who hasn’t been touched by the cruelness of cancer? Many of those closest to us have experienced it firsthand or observed family and friends battling its effects. I’ve lost friends in my everyday life and the blogging community. As Valvano states in his speech, one out of four people will get cancer sometime in their life.

The randomness of life and death is sometimes hard to comprehend. Why does one person pass while another makes a full recovery? I’ve had several friends who’ve gotten better, but others weren’t so lucky.

When I was in my late teens, my mom fought that courageous battle. I can’t write this piece without telling her story. Our mom was the best person I have ever known—that isn’t hyperbole. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of my good fortune in having a nurturing mother. She had a kindness within that touched my soul and many people around her. She was the most positive person one could ever hope to meet, always with a smile on her face and the patience of a saint.

Mom and I (the French maid) doing the dishes following Thanksgiving dinner.

Mom was incredibly proud of her four boys and loved to talk about us. Whenever I was with her, it was practically a guarantee that she would introduce me to someone—and I mean ANYONE. One of the stories I love to tell happened after moving out and getting my own place. Whenever I came over for a visit, she would often suggest a walk in the neighborhood. Happy to be able to spend time with her, I always complied. I lost track of the number of times these situations played out similarly. She’d see someone she knew (not surprising because Mom was friends with everyone and was one of the best listeners), and I knew what was coming. “Have you met my son?”

We couldn’t take a walk on this occasion because my parents had a plumber there working at the house. Mom insisted I come down to the bathroom to see. I didn’t want to, but when your mother asks you to do something…. What followed was one of the most awkward scenes. I assumed that the plumber was on his lunch break or chasing down a part. Instead, he was standing in the bathtub working on the showerhead, his hands covered in grime. I wanted to let the poor guy do his job, but mom insisted on introducing me. Ha-ha! I still get a laugh, picturing his expression. I’m sure he was a nice guy, but he was engrossed in his project. His face said, “Look lady, I’m just here to fix your shower.”

Our mom was a deeply religious person. When she found out she had cancer, her faith never wavered. Her whole attitude was, “I’m willing to accept whatever God has planned for me.” I distinctly remember that we had to encourage her to fight her cancer aggressively. She was still a healthy, vibrant woman (you never met a person who lived a cleaner life) with a lot to live for. She underwent radiation and chemotherapy treatments that left her sick days at a time. Her hair started to come out, and she began wearing a wig.

We were lucky; Mom made a full recovery, despite having pancreatic cancer—a type with one of the lowest survival rates. She lived for many more decades. One of her proudest accomplishments was going back to school after she had raised her four boys and became a social worker. Mom worked with dialysis patients and their families. Her selflessness and pleasant attitude had a positive effect on everyone, including me.

I came to know as a teacher that many of my students came from dysfunctional families. Several were not as lucky as we were to live in a house full of stability and love. When I taught, I never took this for granted. Despite their environments, some kids made it out and changed the cycle of dysfunction. While I appreciate all my students, I’m proudest of those who have overcome difficult circumstances and made something out of their lives.

I’m grateful that some of Mom’s positivity rubbed off on me. I became a teacher, and I’m committed to contributing to my community in retirement. I look for important issues—literacy, helping our environment, caring for the elderly, etc., that I’m passionate about.

If you’ve never watched Jim Valvano’s (Jimmy V) speech, I promise it is ten of the best minutes you can spend today. (Get a hanky) He ends his speech with these beautiful words: “Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart, and it cannot touch my soul.”

Coach Jim Valvano speaking about The Jimmy V Foundation for cancer research.