That Girl Runs

The news hit home and it hit hard. What started out as minor worries slowly but surely turned into full on crises within a matter of days.

My beautiful friend Megs who had been born with a dysfunctional liver, had lived a fairly normal life until she was out on her daily run one morning in late 2007 and went into anaphylactic shock. Her life was spared but what followed were weeks filled with worry every time she coughed, felt a breeze blowing, or scratching in her throat. She was on vacation in London when she found herself cowering in an apartment building lobby, shaking with fear that another attack was going to leave her unconscious in a strange city, in a foreign country. Sitting bent down in that lobby she could no longer deny that she could not continue living this way. A few days after she returned home from Great Britain her name found itself on a list of a limited group of people who need an organ transplant, a few weeks later she got the page and was off to one of the best transplant centers in this country. A new lease on life, things seemed promising. The surgery went off without complications and we as her friends rejoiced in the good fortune. Anyone who is faced with such a health crisis cannot help but take stock of their life and Megs was no exception. After she recovered she left a stale marriage, an unfulfilling and stressful job, and started living life to its fullest. She travelled and I looked forward to her updates from different corners of this country, just enjoying her happiness and freedom. Life was getting back to normal. Yet, something was not quite right, something did not feel one hundred percent, her new found footing was not as stable as we had hoped. Test results started to reveal that her already injured body was rejecting the new liver. The new organ that was supposed to give her new life was slowly taking it away from her. She was on vacation in Hawaii when she got the news that she was fully rejecting her new liver and within a matter for hours she found herself back in the operating room for a second transplant. This time however things did not go as smoothly as the first time around and we as her friends sat with bated breath waiting for updates. As I was spending my days waiting only for good news I remembered my friend as I had known her when we worked together across the hall (my cubicle was literally in a hallway) from each other. The fun we had working on events together, dancing the nights away at graduation parties (we were famous). How, every year, we had to leave balmy spring time in Santa Barbara behind to fly cross country only to be greeted by blizzard conditions in North Carolina, where we sat in the historic Carolina Inn with its creaking pipes and drafty halls. My friend, so full of life, loved by everyone, a delight to work with, my friend who has endless patience and who will do anything for you. The day she left our workplace was one of the saddest of my life, but I understood that she needed to move on and take this step in a different direction. I was thankful that we never lost touch, and now she was lying in a hospital room in Los Angeles, where she had been flown to after her second surgery in Hawaii, fighting for her life. A life too young to lose. I never had any doubt that she was a warrior but I still felt relief when word came that she was on the mend and the first personal email I received from her was a true treasure. She is healing slowly but surely, not pushing herself too hard this time, taking her time to get stronger.

Just as I reveled in the knowledge that Megs had gotten her new well deserved lease on life another friend started to feel “off”. Weeks of fighting one infection after another left her so weak and with such debilitating nausea that her husband ended up taking her to the emergency room the night before Valentines Day. As she lay under the unforgiving lights of the sterile environment she found herself in, she received the word that one of her tests showed a white blood cell count of 115,000 (a normal count is between 5000 and 10,000). Alarm bells went off all around her and finally the diagnosis of Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML) was presented to her. This diagnosis is fresh, almost too fresh to fully sink in, but since my family has dealt with a hematological cancer for the past 12 years I understand what is at stake and that the road Miss Jess will find herself on will be a long and steep one. There will be good days and rough days, days that will test all of her resolve and will to live. Days she will need all the support and strength of her loved ones, her caregivers. As she is going through her first cycle of chemotherapy I remember the days on the 3rd Floor where we worked in the same department, a mere three feet from each other. Where she told me about her dreams for the future, her desire to become a mother of two (a girl, then a boy – in that order). I was at the same party where she met and fell in love with the man who would become her husband. How happy she was with her future laying before her, offering endless possibilities. 

Eventually she moved cross country to the other coast, following the calling of the man she loves most, and although we were not in constant contact we always made sure to keep tabs on each other and checked in with each other’s lives on a regular basis. Just recently we renewed our communication over California Avocados and divine Salted Oatmeal Cookies. After she told me about her diagnosis my first instinct was to run to her, and it is of great comfort to know that she has a wonderful support network, an amazing husband, close friends and family who truly care about her and will be there for her every step of the way. She is fortunate to get treated at one of the best medical centers in this country, if not the world, and is truly in the best hands she can find herself in. 

“If there is anything I can do…” is always our immediate reaction when we hear of a friend in crisis, even though deep down we know that things are really out of our control and besides lending moral support there really is not much we can do. What I can do however is run the marathon I am training for in both my friends’ honor. The pain I will feel on my way to the finish line pales in comparison to the ordeal that Megs has been through, and the long road that lies before my lovely friend on the East Coast who has not even celebrated her 30th birthday yet, too young to be dealing with such a life threatening disease that does not discriminate.

Today’s Running Tip: Run for Charity!

If a race alone is not enough motivation for you to get out and train, you might want to think about joining a charity and run for a cause. There are various ones to choose from you just need to find a chapter in your area. If you are joining Team in Training you will be training and completing the race in honor of a patient battling a blood related cancer and raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.