The walk. The AIM at Melanoma walk in Charlotte, NC on
Saturday, November 16, 2013. One of those life experiences that brand us and
mold us into who we are. At least that is true for me. I’ve spent the
last few days processing the weekend.
The journey began Friday at 5:30 am. I drove across state to
pick up my friend Becky, and from there we drove to Cleveland to grab Sheryl.
The three of us barreling south, eating peanut M&M’s while listening to
Blake Shelton. Conversation among three women, the comfortable silence, the
introspection that happens when you’re driving for hours and hours. These women
didn’t know Jillian well. They know me, and they knew how important this walk
was going to be for me. They wanted to be there. For me. I love these women.
The phone call from Reverend Carol at 7:30 that evening,
“ Where are you”? Only 15 minutes away! Fifteen minutes away from the
hugs I’ve been waiting for. Fifteen minutes from meeting the most incredible
people I’ve been in contact with the last two years. The people that have
helped me navigate through the belly of melanoma, and the ones that are still
helping me today.
Bossy and Crabby
Sandy Klein and her husband
Tara Gill, Mark Williams, Rev Carol Taylor
Cindy Meadors Rutledge, Sandy Klein, Me,
Men in Black
Rev Carol and Tara Gill
I think about the crazy busyness of our lives. I'm observing people
as they go about their daily responsibilities. Focused. Organized. Get it done. Rush, to the finish. I used to be that person. Too focused on myself to really realize what was going on around me. If I heard that
someone was walking for a cause, or organizing an event, my thoughts would be
more in line with, “That’s nice, but I’m too busy to get involved with
that right now”. Or….”I’m glad I don’t have to do all that work”. Or….just
nothing at all. I had no idea what was behind their particular cause. I didn’t
realize the passion, the conviction or even the pain associated with the decision
to get involved. Was I too busy to care? Sounds like I was.
The melanoma warriors I met this past weekend traveled from
all over the United States to meet and to walk for their passion. Colorado, Oregon, Illinois, Texas, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Georgia, Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan. Was it easy
to be there? No. Would we change it? Never. There is unity here and a connection wound so tightly, nothing can unravel it. I am
absolutely humbled to be a part of this movement, and a part of this melanoma
community. Jillian’s death has taught me to dig deep. To reach in as far as I
can to try to connect until I get it. Sometimes it hurts. That’s not true.
Most time it hurts, but the rewards are tenfold.
Standing/Walking United
Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I’ve got much to be
thankful for. Even for the pain of growth and understanding.
~Peace
And Martha, this is for you. Because you asked. My Speech:
Good morning everyone. It truly is an honor for me to be
here with you today.
I’m Susan Hayes, and I’m Jillian’s mom. I was planning to
attend this walk last year in honor and in support of Jillian as she battled
stage IV melanoma. I was unable to make it, because Jillian had taken a turn
for the worse. I needed to be home with her.
This year, I’ll be walking in Memory of Jillian. Jillian
died on December 29, at the age of 23. I’m not happy about that.
When Anne invited me to speak today, I asked her what she
wanted me to talk about. Her response was, ”Just share Jillian’s story.
Talk about her motto, Fall Seven Times, Stand up Eight”. Well, that’s’ easy.
Jillian was 19 when she was first diagnosed with melanoma
. She had a mole on her back that had begun to bleed. After the mole was
removed , we waited for the pathology results. We were not prepared when we heard
the words, It’s Melanoma. Cancer. Stage 2. How can someone this young have
melanoma? I barely knew what melanoma was. Well, I know now….., and what I do
know, I wish I had known years ago so I could have protected my daughter.
Before her diagnosis, Jillian had been an avid tanning
bed user since she was 16. She even worked at a tanning salon and had unlimited
tanning time. I didn’t know how deadly tanning beds were. For the next year
Jillian had routine checkups every three months. On the year anniversary of her
initial diagnosis, Jillian’s doctor ordered a PET scan. There were no symptoms
of melanoma, nothing. He just wanted to make sure that things were okay.
We learned then what a sneaky beast melanoma can be.
Just one day before Jillian turned 21, we were told her
cancer had spread to her liver, lungs and brain, bringing her to Stage IV
melanoma. This began the battle of a lifetime. Not only for Jillian, but for
her family and friends.
For the next two years, Jillian endured several
surgeries, three stereo- tactic radio surgery’s on her brain tumors, whole
brain radiation, a clinical trial, chemotherapy, and the recently approved
drugs Zelboraf and Yervoy. Nothing could stop the progression of this disease
for her.
But through all of it, Jillian was unbroken. She
displayed courage, grace and determination. She had an iron will to live. Her
positive attitude never wavered. Jillian fought against melanoma with
everything she had, falling several times, but always standing back up.
Always. I am so proud to have been her mother.
Even though Jillian isn’t here in the flesh today to
continue her battle against melanoma, her spirit is alive and well. Through the
efforts of AIM at Melanoma, and those who are affected by this horrific
disease, we can all stand together in our fight against melanoma.
I know Jillian’s is standing tall right beside us today,
and she will be there to celebrate when we do find that cure.
Fall Seven Times, Stand up Eight.
Thank you, Jillian. We will.
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