Archive for the ‘Gratitude’ Category
Wednesday, October 14th, 2009
pink ribbon preparation
Just because I am totally and completely honored that so many people (57, to be exact) have donated to my Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Run, I’m listing each and every generous person right here. All these names will also appear on pink ribbons tied on my body as bracelets and anklets on the day of the race (Saturday, October 24).
I am a grateful girl, that’s for sure.
Aimee Piglia-Perry
Aunt Gay
8 Donaldson G Kids
Allison Lemon
Annie Frierson
Billy + Chris Donovan
Bobbi Nicol
Carmen Elliott
Cheryl Jorgenson
Dave, Lisa, Maggie, Jack + Annie Berrow
Dawn + Bill Breehl
Dr. Lynch
Dr. Copeland
Ericha Fryfogle-Joy
Freymann Family
Gainesville Family Eyecare
Gretchen
Hyundai, Lincoln, Mercury of Gainesville
J. Chokel
J. Hissem
Jen Weeks
Jim + Shannon Donaldson
Jordan + Tori
Julian Rosado
Karla Carrington
Kim Stigler + Family
Kristen Seymour
Louis Garcia
Lynn + Dave Broadway
Michelle Margolies Tran
Mike Clary
Millhopper Pediatric Dentistry
Nick + Lori Cheronis
Nick M.
Nicole Kotlan
Pat Nicol
Scott + Rachael Donaldson
Sean + Sarah Limon
softservegirl
Steph + Sierra
Sue + John Herr
Susan Edmonds
Thaler + Townsend, P.A.
The Dampier Family
The Ernst Family
The Galione Family
The Grant Family
The Herring Family
The Hines Family
The Mori Family
The Otis Family
The Sklar Family
The Spiegler Family
Tracey Reeves
Urban Meyer Family
Vicki
Walker Family
Posted in Gratitude, Survivors | No Comments »
Friday, July 3rd, 2009
Me, thankful for my doctor, October 2008
I love that I inspired my friend Nicole in Ohio to write names all over her body in black permanent marker. Why did she do it? Well, because she did a breast cancer walk and wanted to honor those who donated to the cause by displaying their names on her arms, legs and other parts. She took her cue from me — I’ve done this marker thing twice now (here and here), and it makes me proud that she followed my lead, and is planning to do it all over again next year. I am also flattered that Nicole wrote about me in a recent email to all her contributors. Here’s what she said:
Hi. I am so excited to share with you that I received notification today from Komen of Columbus that I made the honor roll (top 100 fundraisers)! I placed 26th with a total donation of just under $2,400. Total raised by all for the event via donations was just over $500,000!
Did you know every $150 raised helped one uninsured woman get a mammogram!
They asked me to share why I did it and I shared about my mom and my friend Jacki! I also shared with them that the idea of writing names on myself came from my friend Jacki and her efforts to raise money in Florida! Jacki is a good friend from Kent State and SURVIVOR! If you have time check out her blog: www.cancerspot.org
Thanks again for your donations and coming along with me! I can’t wait until next year!
Thank you, Nicole, for all your hard work in the fight against breast cancer. I am so happy to have you on my side.
Tags: body-art, breast-cancer-walk, magic-marker
Posted in Awareness, Gratitude, Inspiration, Survivors | No Comments »
Thursday, March 26th, 2009
Sherri Jo says, “Until I had breast cancer, I never fully realized what wonderful family and friends I have and how much I am loved. The outpouring of love and support I received was truly amazing. Every few days there was a card in my mailbox, flowers at my door, or something wonderful to cheer me on. People found such unique and creative ways to show their support for me and it made such a difference in my ability to cope with all the stress. One of my most favorite memories came from friends at my sailing club. On a particular race day when they knew I would be present, all of the sailors flew a pink ribbon on the back of their boat in my honor! What a site – to see 30 plus sailboats flying pink – just for me! I felt loved and celebrated and certain that I would survive the fight against breast cancer. Never underestimate what a simple show of support can do to lift a person’s spirits.
My husband instigated the whole event so he got a few extra starts in his halo. I am a lucky woman to have such wonderful people in my life.”
Want to show me what you think breast cancer looks like? Please send me a photo that captures the essence of breast cancer, and I will display it here. Email to jackidonaldson@gmail.com, make sure your shot is at least 450 pixels wide and tell me something about the photo. No blurry pics, please.
Tags: boat, breast-cancer, cope, Family, friends, love, pink-ribbons, sailing-club, Sherri-jo, stress, support
Posted in Awareness, Family, Gratitude, Hospitalization, Survivors, what-breast-cancer-looks-like | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, November 5th, 2008
Big national news today: We have a new President and can now get on with living our lives under a new leadership. Big personal news too: I am still cancer-free and can now get on with living out my fifth year, post-diagnosis. Exciting stuff, all of it.
Monday morning, I had a follow-up with my oncologist. Everything looked good. Everything felt good. My blood is in tip-top shape. My breasts are free of lumps. No lymph nodes are protruding from anywhere on my body. No symptoms are presenting themselves. Perfect.
On Monday evening, I had my annual MRI. And just this morning, I got word from my favorite doctor that everything looked good. “Your MRI is unchanged with nothing concerning,” were his exact words. I love those words.
For me, today is off to a great start. Hopefully, a great start is underway for America too.
Posted in Gratitude, Inspiration, My story, Survivors | 2 Comments »
Sunday, October 19th, 2008
My favorite of all cancer gifts was a pair of cozy, fuzzy, yellow socks sent in the mail from a friend named Ginger. Ginger, I don’t know where you are or if you’re reading, but I am so thankful for those socks. They warmed my tootsies and my heart. And every time I look at them, crumpled and stuffed in my sock drawer, I think of you and how those socks are a testament to my survival. They are worn and dirty and the fuzzies are all flattened, which means I’ve had them for a while, which means I’ve been alive for awhile, which means I am happily surviving the disease that prompted my friend to send me such a special package.
Four years ago, Ginger gave me my favorite socks. And for four years, I’ve been giving the gift of socks to others who need comforting. Need a gift for a special someone? I recommend socks. The cozier and fuzzier, the better. Click here to buy the ones pictured above.
Posted in Gratitude, Inspiration, My story, Survivors | 2 Comments »
Wednesday, October 15th, 2008
Today is Love Your Body Day. We’re talking about it on That’s Fit, readers here on my personal blog are sharing what they love most about their bodies for my latest giveaway—click here, reveal your most prized body part, and enter to win a dazzler of a dress—and now, I’ll tell you what I love about this 38-year-old body that belongs to me.
To be honest, I’ve always been a bit hard on my body, generally wishing it was thinner, stronger, tanner, tighter, more toned. I’ve even gone as far as reducing my once-too-big boobs and tucking in my sagging-skin tummy. I explain my breast reduction as necessary for comfort—four pounds of heavy, dense tissue were removed—and I justify the tummy tuck too. Comfort again. After seven years, I just couldn’t deal anymore with the excess post-pregnancy stuff hanging from my middle. Comfort aside, though, I admit both surgeries gave me an appearance I wanted: Small boobs and a flat tummy, both better matches for my other body parts.
I love my boobs and my tummy now. Truly love them. There are other parts I love too—parts never reconstructed or enhanced, like my toes.
John told me on one of our first dates that my toes are cute. I agree. They look best in flip-flops, painted just right with my favorite really dark color.
I also love my hair. Never thought I’d say that after shaving off my blond locks nearly four years ago in preparation for the big chemotherapy fall-out. But my hair grew back better. And my hair stylist Trippe cuts it perfectly, which makes me love him almost as much as I love my hair.
Other parts I love: My arms, for toning up so nicely; my legs, for allowing me to run lots of miles; my brain, which is getting smarter by the day, thanks to second-grade homework and four tests per week; the whole darn thing, really. I mean, this body of mine delivered two whopper-sized baby boys and beat breast cancer too. I love it. Simply love it.
What do you love about your body? Name something. Anything. Your eyes, your ears, your lips, your fingernails. Surely, there’s something that makes you happy. Think about it, and share by leaving a comment, either here on this post or on the giveaway post, where you stand to win something pretty.
Posted in Giveaway, Gratitude, Hair loss, Inspiration, My story, Survivors | 1 Comment »
Friday, August 1st, 2008
I ran a 5K on my treadmill yesterday. Ran another one this morning. Now I know I can tackle this physical feat come October 4 when I participate in my fourth Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event. What I don’t know is if I can raise as much money this time. Last year, I gathered nearly $4,000 from family and friends.
Two months before the big run and I’m off to a good start: $275 has come rolling in already.
To honor the kind and generous folks who contribute to my breast cancer cause, I will do what I did last year: I will write each and every donor’s name on my body. To reserve your very own spot, click here and donate and if you can. Make it big. Make it small. Every dollar counts.
I thank you.
Posted in Exercise, Gratitude, My story, Prevention, Survivors | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008
I'm one of the lucky ones—I'm surviving cancer, have been since November 2004. That makes me three and a half years invincible, and I must say it feels good to go to bed each night knowing I've survived for 1,277 days.
My neighbor is not so lucky. She was diagnosed with breast cancer—my same disease—a little more than six months ago. She had it removed—both the cancer and her breast—and already, the disease is back. It’s back in her breast tissue. It's made its way into both lungs too. Doctors are calling it stage IV. Hospice is calling on her already.
"She's no young girl," her husband told me last night when we passed each other in the neighborhood. But she is. She's 73. In my book, that's young. I don't want to die at 73. She shouldn’t need to either. But it's happening. And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.
1,277 days. I'm one of the lucky ones.
Posted in Death & dying, Gratitude, My story, Survivors | 4 Comments »
Monday, May 19th, 2008
My oncologist told me today at my six-month follow-up that he couldn’t be happier with my progress. Ditto, I say. He told me it’s almost like I’m back to normal life. Ditto, again.
Gosh, I really don’t have much more to report on my personal cancer front, which is such very good news.
Posted in Gratitude, Inspiration, My story, Survivors | 5 Comments »
Friday, May 16th, 2008
Mammogram: Clear
Ultrasound: Clear
My mood: Great
It could have gone the other way. One of my imaging tests today could have turned up something suspicious which would have dictated a completely different outcome and a much worse mood. It happened three and a half years ago when the doctor who'd seen my tumor on ultrasound said, "I want this out and in a jar." That tumor that landed in a jar days later was cancer. And so every time I'm screened and every time I see my oncologist for a follow-up (coming this Monday), I'm never really sure how clear or how great things will be. I'm sure for now, though. My boobs show no sign of cancer. My mood shows no sign of worry. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Sigh.
photo courtesy of JerrytheSaint on flickr
Posted in Gratitude, Survivors, Tests | 5 Comments »
Wednesday, May 14th, 2008
Just three and a half short years ago, I was wondering if I'd live long enough to baby my babies. They were almost four years and 18 months old when I was diagnosed with breast cancer and more than anything in those early cancer days, I feared for my life—which made me fear for theirs. Who would hug and kiss them, snuggle and cuddle them? Who would make their favorite snacks, pick out the best-fitting shoes, cut their little finger and toe nails, and dry their little boy tears when skinned knees and scary dreams made them cry? Surely, I was the only one who could stay home with them all day, the only one who could help them become social beings, the only one who could help them manage the days leading up to their solo journeys into the world. OK, I admit: their dad would do a pretty good job in these areas if left on his own. But I was—still am—selfish. I want to be front and center in their lives. Thankfully, three and half years later, I am.
Breast cancer hasn't taken me away from my boys—but something else threatens our togetherness. That something: Joey. It's not his fault he's separating from me. It's his age—he's seven.
Today, while driving into his elementary school parking lot, Joey said, "Mom, can you just drop me off at the curb tomorrow?" Gasp! I always walk him into his classroom, talk with his teacher, wish him a great day, and kiss him goodbye. A few months ago, I wondered if the kiss was a bit much for a first-grade boy. I asked Joey if it made him uncomfortable, and he told me it did not. Now, however, he has apparently decided the kiss is too much and so is my presence in his personal school space.
“Yes,” I told Joey. “I can drop you at the curb tomorrow.”
I knew this day was coming. And here it is. My baby is no longer a baby. He's growing up, becoming independent, plotting his departure from my grasp. It makes me sad. And it makes me happy, happy because I am alive and present and I get to watch my first-born guy wiggle his way out of my care. How sweet it is.
Posted in Death & dying, Family, Gratitude, Inspiration, Kids, My story, Survivors | 2 Comments »
Tuesday, February 5th, 2008
Miss Melanoma wrote recently on her blog about how she sometimes misses her pre-cancer self. She wishes she could go back, could let go of the pity that surrounds her at times, could feel free to think of nothing but having fun for a whole evening. It’s getting better, she writes. “I’m so happy I’m starting to see that ME that was here before melanoma. I really liked that girl. She’s finally coming back.”
Cancer has a way of changing a person. But while there are times when I think back to my former self with fond memories (if only I could have my straight hair back), I tend to like the post-cancer me better than the me who knew nothing of this vicious disease. Of course, it takes time to get past the darkness of diagnosis and the terror of treatment. Surviving takes some practice too. But when the fog clears and the dust settles, life can turn pretty darn bright.
Cancer was my wake-up call, my “watch out, your days may be numbered so make every day count” reminder that helps me focus on what is truly important. For me, it’s family and writing and anything that causes virtually no stress. Cancer makes me appreciate every sunny day, every cool breeze, every laugh that roars from the mouths of my little boys, every accomplished task. I’m not sure I fully comprehended the beauty of every moment before cancer. I do now.
I never really grasped the importance of health before cancer either. I now know cancer is likely caused more by lifestyle factors than anything else and so it has become my mission to eat right, exercise right, and fuel my body so that it outlasts any disease that tries to invade it. Today, my body is leaner than it’s ever been, my heart allows me to run distances I never could have previously conquered, and I wake each day with a spunk that is invigorating.
Cancer makes me want to be better, do better, live better. And this is what makes me happier to be the me after cancer than the me before cancer. It’s a personal preference, I guess. Some people long for days past. I long for days present and future. I thank cancer for that.
Posted in Diet, Exercise, Family, Gratitude, Inspiration, Kids, My story, Survivors | 3 Comments »
Saturday, October 20th, 2007
Today, I ran 3.2 miles in Gainesville’s Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event.
Today, I proudly branded my body with the names of those who generously contributed to my cause.
Today, I officially handed over $3,811 to the American Cancer Society.
Today, I was interviewed by WCJB TV 20 about my role as a breast cancer survivor.
Today, I was surrounded by family and friends.
Today was a big day, a day that comes just one month before I celebrate three years of survivorship.
My surgeon says that’s no small thing, surviving breast cancer for three years. He thinks I’m well on my way to a long and healthy life. I think so too.
Posted in Exercise, Gratitude, Inspiration, My story, Survivors | 1 Comment »
Saturday, August 18th, 2007
For the third year, I will participate in Making Strides Against Breast Cancer. It’s an American Cancer Society 5K event founded on the premise of raising breast cancer awareness, raising hope, and raising funds that may one day help land a cure for this dreaded disease.
Making Strides is an anniversary event for me. It takes place each October (October 20 this year) and comes just before the month of my diagnosis: November. So each time I conquer 3.2 miles, along with a crowd of others accomplishing the same feat, I reflect on having survived breast cancer for another year. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that rush through my body on these October days.
This year, in November, I will have survived cancer for three years. So I am preparing for my Making Strides celebration. Like last year, I hope to raise thousands of dollars. My goal: $4,000. Like last year, I will run the entire distance. Want to come with me?
Donate $25, your name goes on my leg
Donate $50, your name goes on my arm
Donate $100, your name goes on my back
Donate $250, your name goes on my face
Donate $500, you pick!
Click here to make a tax-deductible contribution. I will wear your name proudly with each step I take. And I will forever be grateful for your support in the fight against breast cancer.
Total achieved, August 18: $940.00
Total achieved, September 12: $2,290.00
Total achieved, October 6: $3,040.00
Total achieved, October 20: $3,811.00
Posted in Exercise, Gratitude, Inspiration, My story | 2 Comments »
Friday, February 17th, 2006
I recently read an article about doctors who are not recommending Herceptin therapy for patients they know do not have good insurance or who they suspect will not be able to pay the hefty price of this promising drug. If medical professionals cannot be reimbursed for the financial burden of dispensing Herceptin, they may not offer it to those whose life it may save.
I have insurance, and I was offered the treatment. My insurance pays 80%. I am responsible for 20%. Not so bad until you look at the math. Each Herceptin treatment (every third Wednesday for me) costs about $5,000. My 20% responsibility is $1,000 — that’s $1,000 every three weeks for 52 weeks. So even pretty good insurance doesn’t quite make this medical intervention affordable. But I am doubly blessed — I have insurance that covers the bulk of the burden. And I have family members who help me with the rest.
I think often about how fortunate I am to be free of financial worries in this cancer battle. I have never worried about the cost of tests and screenings and office visits. I have never felt lost in the expense of chemotherapy and radiation and hospital visits where every pill and blood draw and doctor opinion has a special fee. Instead I have felt complete and total peace about a side effect of cancer that crushes so many people. I wonder how we would have done it — paid all the bills that have been arriving at our mailbox for more than a year. Had we paid all bills in full, we would have had nothing left by now. Had we paid just the minimum amount on each bill, we would have been living with a cloud over our heads for possibly the rest of our lives. So I think about those who live this reality — or don’t even get treatment because of their financial situation — and I realize that it could have easily been my family destroyed by cancer bills.
I am blessed. I am thankful — thankful that I can sit in my infusion chair on those Wednesday afternoons without the stress and worry about how I will pay for the clear liquid that may save my life.
Jacki Donaldson
Posted in Family, Gratitude, Herceptin, My story | 5 Comments »
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
I spent a lot of time in the infusion center today. Four hours to be exact. Which is a long time for a 90-minute infusion. There is always some delay and often I wait up to an hour before Herceptin begins to travel through my veins. But today was slow. Maybe there was a back-up because of the Thanksgiving holiday. Or maybe there are a slew of new chemo patients this time of year. Or maybe this is the usual business of chemo and I’ve been lucky to get in and out so quickly in the past. Regardless, I still felt lucky today — despite the long afternoon spent in the waiting room and then in pink chair #7. I felt lucky to have those four hours. Lucky to have received the gift that still causes me my most emotional moments — the kindness of those who surround me.
Nicole is a pediatrician at Shands Hospital. She is a new friend and already a good friend. Knowing I had my treatment today, she walked across the hospital campus to the infusion center and she sat with me — for all four hours. We talked about cancer and medicine and our jobs and our husbands. We talked about parenthood (Nicole is a soon-to-be mom) and baby names and our spunky grandmothers and their kind, peaceful ways. We talked about faith and religion and so much more. It was a calm afternoon for me, in the midst of a room that was hectic with activity. Surrounded by the continuous motion of nurses and patients and visitors, the hum of a dozen or more separate conversations, and the rolling of IV poles with their near-constant beeping, I felt focused and relaxed with Nicole seated across from me. And that’s the gift — to be distracted from the magnitude of the day by a friend who sits and talks and is just simply there.
I talked with my Ohio friend, Amy, today. She just completed her third chemo treatment, and she has three more to go. She is discouraged and while half-way there, she can’t visualize getting to the end. But even in her despair, she talked about how amazed she is by what others are doing for her — caring for her kids, cleaning her house, supporting her. This kindness comes at a cost — the cost of cancer — but it is refreshing and invigorating. It helps us pass the time. It helps us appreciate the time. It helps all the time.
Time will heal our wounds. The pain will fade. The struggles will be memories. But I think the friendship and the love and the support will live on. These gifts are the stuff that get us through the hard times and the stuff that keep us going.
We are the lucky ones, really. Lucky we have the chance to witness the true wonder of good people. Lucky to have friends like Nicole.
Jacki Donaldson
Posted in Gratitude, Herceptin, My story | 5 Comments »
Wednesday, November 23rd, 2005
I Run for Life
(Melissa Etheridge)
It’s been years since they told her about it
The darkness her body possessed
And the scars are still there in the mirror
Everyday that she gets herself dressed
Though the pain is miles and miles behind her
And the fear is now a docile beast
If you ask her why she is still running
She’ll tell you it makes her complete
[Chorus:]
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother your sister your wife
I run for you and me my friend I run for life
It’s a blur since they told me about it
How the darkness had taken its toll
And they cut into my skin and they cut into my body
But they will never get a piece of my soul
And now I’m still learning the lesson
To waken when I hear the call
And if you ask me why I am still running
I’ll tell you I run for us all
[Chorus]
And someday if they tell you about it
If the darkness knocks on your door
Remember her remember me
We will be running as we have before
Running for answers
Running for more
It’s been one year since they told me about it — one year ago today. The day before Thanksgiving. There have been sad moments and dark moments and moments that seemed to last a lifetime. But mostly, I look back and wonder where the year has gone. I credit my busy little boys who kept me distracted by their innocence and wonder and beauty (and their mischievous antics too). Without even knowing it, they gave me perspective. They still do. And they make me laugh. One night we sat in a restaurant — my three boys with their blond hair and me with my new, dark, very short hair. Someone glanced our way and Joey told me, “Mommy, they think you are the Daddy.” Priceless.
John. He has wiped my tears, listened to my worries, saved me on days I couldn’t find the strength to function, and offered endless advice and comfort and wisdom — all while balancing work and school (he graduates with his Masters on December 17th) and his generous household duties that even on a good day, I don’t handle well — he cooks, gives baths, reads books, and puts Joey and Danny to bed. He has had his own difficult road to travel on this cancer journey, but without the support system I have. The spouse of the cancer patient doesn’t get much attention — but John deserves it. He is a life saver.
My mom and sister. I am blessed simply to live in the same city as them. To see them every day. To share talks and walks. To shop and have lunch. To bask in the joy of our little miracles — Joey, Danny and Jordan. But to have them cushioning my fall for the past year is a true gift. They made life easier. They held me up. They dried my tears. They lost sleep for me. They loved me. They amaze me.
There are so many others — family and friends and acquaintances — who have helped me get through this year. I am thankful for every person who has warmed my heart, held my hand, shared in my sorrows, and lifted my spirits. I am thankful today and tomorrow and every day.
And as I give thanks this Thanksgiving, I begin my second year as a cancer survivor. And I continue to run for life.
Jacki Donaldson
Posted in Family, Gratitude, Hair loss, Kids, My story, Resources | 4 Comments »
Saturday, October 15th, 2005
The American Cancer Society people were grateful for the amount of money I raised for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk. But I didn’t really do all the work — the 50 people who opened their wallets and generously shared their hard-earned money are the ones who did most of the work. I am grateful for these people — family and friends and friends of friends. They shared a total of $3,310 and made me the top individial fundraiser, second to a team of people that raised about $5,000. This morning, after the 5K walk, I was presented with a special keychain to acknowledge this significant contribution. I will carry this keychain with me each day and will never lose sight of why I have it — because of the support and love and concern that still flows richly in my direction.
Walking with me today were my mom, Tracy, and Jordan. We traveled 3.2 miles together and joined upwards of 1,000 people in pink and white shirts. We saw women and men and babies and kids. We saw bald heads and short hairstyles like my own. We saw survivors and their friends and family members. We saw a network of strength and power and unity.
My strength comes from my own personal network of supporters and caregivers. My boys — John, Joey & Danny — who were in my audience today and are with me for every moment on this journey. My mom, Tracy, and Jordan — my female companions on this ride. My family and friends who lift my spirits, brighten my days, and endlessly motivate me.
Raising $3,310 is not my own accomplishment, although I was rewarded for it today. This success belongs to so many other people. And the American Cancer Society is not the only beneficiary. I am too. This financial gift is a tangible indicator of all the love and support I have circling me each day. And for that, I am truly grateful.
Jacki Donaldson
Posted in Exercise, Gratitude, My story | 3 Comments »
Sunday, July 17th, 2005
In the past 10 years, John and I have lived in several cities. We’ve moved six times. Together, we’ve had five paying jobs, six cars, and two kids. We’ve had many vacations, bunches of friendships, occassional disagreements, and a whole lot of laughs. We’ve survived a few car accidents, kidney stones, a miscarriage, family deaths, parenting dilemmas, and breast cancer. And this past weekend, we celebrated it all.
Friday marked our 10th wedding anniversary. We went to Daytona Beach, where we lived before kids and budgets and a mini-van. While the boys stayed with my mom, we stayed in a nice hotel on the beach. We walked on the sand and played in the ocean and basked in the sun. We ate out and saw a movie. We went to a bar and we slept until 10:00 am. And we visited with the friends we left behind in this city — and for me it was an emotional journey back.
I had not seen these friends in one year. Not since I was diagnosed. They have all been involved in my cancer journey through phone calls, e-mails, and visits to this web journal. But we have not seen each other face to face since my life took a detour. This weekend, I saw their faces. It was a powerful reunion for me. They wrapped me in their arms and filled me with warmth and love. They let me cry and heard my story. They helped me heal.
So the weekend was a celebration — a celebration of 10 years of marriage and a celebration of friendship. And I am back at home now, recharged and motivated and feeling stronger than ever.
Jacki Donaldson
Posted in Family, Gratitude, Inspiration, My story | 3 Comments »
Thursday, June 2nd, 2005
Today I attended an annual MOMS Club banquet — it’s a celebration of the past year, full of playgroups and club events and hard-working moms! I joined the Gainesville MOMS Club when Joey was 10 months old. I intended to find friends and socialization for my stay-at-home kid. And I found both for him. But as I look back, I realize I may have gained more from this club than Joey did. Much of what I gained came this year. And it has touched me in powerful ways. So I am sending this e-mail to the moms in this club.
Dear Moms,
I wish I could have stood up at the banquet to say this publicly but my emotions are a bit overwhelmed lately and I don’t know that I could have spoken clearly. But what I want to say is this …
Thank you from every fiber of my being for your support and love and encouragement and attention throughout my journey with breast cancer. At the banquet today, I realized how fortunate I am to have this support system of moms. I knew I would make it through my treatment (which ended last Friday after 6 months) — I really had no other choice — but I did not know I would have so many people lifting my spirits and holding me up. I have received flowers and cards; e-mails and phone calls; hospital visits and home visits; cozy socks and a quilt that I sleep with every night. I have spa gift certificates and a new scrapbook. And today, so many of you checked on my progress. You are sincere and loving women and I can honestly say I would be lost without you.
If you wonder why you pay $20 a year for membership in this club, just ask me. It’s more than finding friends for our kids and a social outlet for ourselves. It’s about deep friendships and shoulders to cry on. It’s about giving and sharing. It’s about helping save lives — like mine. Recovering from life-threatening illness takes physical strength but it takes so much mental strength too — you all gave me the strength to fight. I will never forget what you all have done for me. I am forever grateful.
Sincerely,
Jacki Donaldson
www.jackidonaldson.com
mom of Joey (4 1/2) and Danny (2)
Posted in Gratitude, Inspiration, My story | 2 Comments »
