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I have made the commitment again this year to participate in the D/FW Breast Cancer 3-Day event – where women from all over the metroplex walk a 60-mile trek over a period of 3 days in an attempt to raise awareness about breast cancer and to raise funds to help find a cure. Since I made my first journey two years ago, raising my own awareness about breast cancer and the development toward a cure, I have learned that this dreadful disease has touched the lives of many more of my friends and neighbors. Thus, I am motivated now not only by the loss of my dear friend Liz, but by so many others as well.
Several girls in my community are pressing on with the team we formed last year – “Pinkalicious” -- and are thoroughly enthusiastic about the upcoming event! So on November 5th, 6th & 7th of this year, I will walk 20 miles each day with a group of women who share my vision and goal to help put an end to breast cancer. You can be a part of this amazing journey too! You see, each walker in this event must raise a minimum of $2300, which will be donated to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure organization and the National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund. I am asking for your support towards this important research, which will hopefully one day totally eradicate this horrible disease that has affected us all, in one way or another, at least once in our lives. Anything you can give is truly appreciated, and tax deductible! (Yes, you will receive a receipt for tax purposes.) Please go to my personal page within the Breast Cancer 3-Day site, and use the donation link there: http://www.the3day.org/goto/debrawadams
I invite you to share my vision for a world without breast cancer. Thank you in advance for your consideration and generosity.
MY STORY – WHY I WALK:
When I was in eighth grade, approximately 13 years old, we had an assignment in our English class involving signing up with a high school pen pal exchange program. You could select the age, gender, and nationality of your desired pen pal, and then the service would facilitate you getting in touch with each other so you could begin writing (pen and paper letters mind you, before the invent of e-mail). I opted for a female about my same age in the UK, and was delighted when I received contact information for a girl named Liz Budge in Bedfordshire, England. We began corresponding immediately and learning about each other’s families and culture. All through high school, and more than one move for each of us, we kept writing and occasionally calling, and developed a remarkably close friendship. She visited me for the first time in the early 90’s and then again a couple of years later – hosting her was such a joy, and she was greatly entertained by the rodeo and Dallas Cowboy football game I took her to. Liz loved Mexican food and margaritas, and was so amused with all things Texan! Our lives evolved and we grew, but we never lost touch. Liz had a rather exciting life I thought, as she served in the Royal Air Force and then in civil service as (what we would call) a “911” operator. Shortly after we got married, Lewis and I traveled to Europe to visit Liz and her husband John, and their 2 year-old daughter, Abigail. It was such a fabulous vacation, and our relationship was like we were girlfriends who just lived around the corner from each other – not “across the pond.” We had truly grown up together, albeit thousands of miles apart. A couple of years later, Liz had another daughter, Harriet, and Lewis and I had Julia, Olivia, and then Ethan. Liz and I both had our happy families and beautiful homes, and were content with our lives -- but sadly, that was about to change.
In mid 2007, Liz informed me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I was horrified and in shock, but I prayed and provided her with all the moral support I could from afar. She commented that she was nervous about her upcoming chemo and losing all her hair, especially because she could not find any good hats to wear. The next week, I sent her a book on how to tell young children about cancer… and a box full of colorful, funky hats to lift her spirits! She underwent months of chemo and in February of 2008 got the “all clear” from her doctors… the cancer was gone and she was well again. We rejoiced together and I honestly felt as if all my prayers had been answered. Our oldest daughters – her Abigail and my Julia – had become pen pals by this time, but via e-mail, not the “snail mail” we started with. Once again, things were back on track and the future was bright.
I received an e-mail from Liz on April 15th of 2008 explaining that after a series of infections, the doctors had determined that her cancer had returned and metastasized to her liver. The devastation I felt was amplified by Lewis explaining to me that this is precisely what killed his mother, years before I even met him.
On May 12th of 2008, on my 41st birthday, I received an e-mail from John, sharing the sad news that my lovely friend Liz had passed away – in her own home, listening through the windows to the sound of her 3 year-old and 9-year old daughters play in the family garden. Liz was just 39 years old.
I am told that even until her last breath, Liz never lost hope that someday, someone would find a cure for this horrible thing called CANCER! In her last weeks, she would tell her husband, “maybe today they will find the cure, and I can take a pill and it will all be gone.” I lay awake at night still thinking about Liz and the sadness of her last days, knowing that she would soon be taken from her beautiful daughters and loving husband. In her final weeks, John told me that she labored over boxes of items for her girls – special boxes to be opened on their 13th birthdays, 16th birthdays, for their weddings, and so on – knowing that she would not be there to share those moments with them. She was dying, yet she was selfless and utterly hopeful – a true testament to just how special she was. I miss my friend dearly, and I am haunted each and every day by thoughts of her sorrowful demise. And so, to show the love I have for her, and to pay the deepest, most heartfelt respect to her memory, this year, for the third year, I am walking... walking to help find that “pill” that Liz so desperately hoped for.
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