Fighting this thing called cancer


nhl.com

Cancer took a punch today.

Right in the face.

Although I am not a fan of flimsy fist fights on the ice, I find them to be fairly distracting to the finesse and flow of the game, I am a fan of fighting cancer.

And that’s what my mom is doing. She’s dropped the gloves and she’s ready to go.

I don’t pretend to know what it takes to fight something you can’t see. There are thoughts I’m sure my mom has thought that have never crossed my mind. Sitting in a chair for hours while receiving drugs that will inevitably cause her to lose her signature curls is not something I can even fully comprehend. What does one think while sitting there? What does one feel? I can’t answer those questions. I can’t quiet those fears.

I can say this: she drew quite the crowd today. Family and friends were pressed up against the glass, yelling and rooting her on as she played the role of enforcer and fought in Round 1 of the biggest fight of her life. Typically, post-junior year of college, I honestly don’t put much thought into my daily ensembles, but today I planned ahead and chose a special shirt. A Blackhawks “Hockey Fights Cancer” youth t-shirt (the girl ones were too girly) because that’s what you do when you’re rooting on your favorite team, your favorite player. You show your support. You wear their logos. You wear their jerseys. And so far, from what I can tell, it worked. Because so far, from what I can tell, she won the fight today. There have been no major side effects and I take that as a victory.

No doubt, in the course of 8 major fights, my mom will lose her footing and hit the ice, possibly hard, but she’ll get up and be stronger than ever. And in the end, I’m confident that my mom will take down her opponent and prove that she is the best fighter.

I’m thinking I’ll lose my voice. Because even though I am usually not the fan in the stands yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” I can get pretty riled and rowdy if the opponent’s enforcer lays a heavy hit, holds a stick, or shoves after the whistle on my favorite team, my favorite player.

Be prepared to hear me yell, Cancer. And be prepared to go down. Because you don’t stand a fighting chance.

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