You captured our hearts buddy

I lost my dear friend this weekend.

Zach passed away quietly and peacefully Sunday morning.

And I am changed...yet again...in a way that is shades different than the person that I was even when Zach first stepped into my life and into my heart.

Just two weeks ago Zach's mom called me to tell me that Zach would be up at the hospital again that following day. I had a doctor's appointment and knew I might cut it close swinging by the other side of town...but felt compelled to chance it. As it would happen, this would be the day that with the help of his Mom and Dad, Zach told me he would be going to the hospice. For this fierce, determined young man who fought for so long...it might appear that this was giving in...accepting that the fight was over. But this was not the case.

He was taking control and bravely deciding how his final chapter would play out. There in that room, sitting by his bed I was feeling weak, crestfallen at hearing this news. But I couldn't show it...not when Zach was resolute. When you see strength like that...you just don't want to be the one to crack...I was just trying to follow his lead. As hard as it was to hear this...the finality of it--- Zach was facing this with the bright side immediately ready to share with me. He could "have visitors there...he could watch his videos...bring his favorite things...hang the "Lance bike" in his room."

After all, as Zach had reminded me on countless occasions his blood type was just right for him--- B positive...and that was what he had to do---be positive. It's one of many things I'm remembering now...things he said and little inside jokes...simple things he enjoyed that the rest of the world takes for granted. Like Triscuits...who lives to taste a Triscuit cracker?...Zach did and I'll never go by a box of them without smiling and thinking of him.

Zach had a sneak peak at several little goofs I made. Anyone who knows me any length of time catches on to my scatterbrained nature. I've been trying to correct it...but alas it's just here to stay. But what was so good about Zach was his ability to sweetly point the goofs out...but not broadcast them. I told him once jokingly that I only did that to make him laugh. Well, he knew the truth...

While I was driving him somewhere once I realized to my frustration that the shifter was stuck.

"Oh man! So much for this new car," I said haphazardly jerking the handle back and forth.

Without missing a beat Zach lifted a quarter out that had rolled into the shift track, thus immobilizing the shift. "Here...try it now," he said smiling. Then we both laughed...and there was no judgement. He could have thought to himself, 'geesh, this dippo---Aha, somebody's got it worse than me', but if he did he never let on. Zach lived in the moment.

Though that might have made a great story to add to his storytelling creds he never retold it for a cheap laugh. It was our little inside joke.

What I'll remember forever about Zach is that he shared his whole heart with you. From the first day I sat with him and Michael in the lobby of the 5500 floor lobby next to the candy machines...to that last visit and that very last hug, the one that would be goodbye, he didn't hide his gratitude. "Thank you" was a word that passed his lips often and without trepidation.

And as we all prepare to say goodbye this week I am thinking of one moment that sums up Zach and his determination to face the most unbearably difficult trials of his life with positivity.

The afternoon after Zach had been awarded the Lance signed bike at his local bike shop the small little group that had gathered to see him get it dispersed. I too headed out the door. But he called after me just as I passed the threshold...he ran up and stopped me. As I turned around to face him, he looked at me with a look of contentment. "Hey...do you ever sometimes think that cancer was the best thing that ever happened to you?"

Knowing the absolute sincerity with which he uttered that statement...no self pity, no desire for accolades about how brave he was...I felt a pang of truth. But it didn't settle easy. I wanted to agree without reservation...but I felt how painful and layered some heartfelt truths can be. Despite the fact that his storm had never truly subsided...and there hadn't ever been a reprive...a remission...an enticing promise of a future. Despite the fact that he struggled, he felt it made him stronger. He felt he was learning as he endured each part of the journey...his faith was no small part of that. And he also was grateful for the people that were brought into his life...people he once said he may not have ever had the honor to cross paths with in different cicrcumstances.
"The best thing?" I thought, and it hurt to even contemplate, looking at where the road was leading for him... but I knew he meant every word...that much was clear.

I nodded through tears and it almost stung to agree, looking at him in a moment I knew I would always remember for the rest of my life."Yes, Zach...sometimes I do"

So one night later when Sean Swarner, the mountain climber who'd shared friendship and his posh hotel room with Zach, echoed those very same words about his own experience----there were at least two audience members in absolute awe.
That keynote speech struck a chord. Zach turned toward me with an ear to ear smile of jubuliant recognition and gave me a wink.

I will always remember Zach DeRidder. He is alive in my heart.

I hope as you read this you'll keep him in yours.

Miss you Z-Man.

Zachary T. DeRidder July 30, 1984--January 18, 2009

Why you stand in line

I won't tell you the frustrating life stuff that's been going on...because it's faded to the background.

Last night was election night...and for the first time in 8 years I felt okay, much more at peace.

Just four years ago I stood in line to vote when any rational person would have been in bed or even in a hospital. I was on heavy drugs...and I was still recovering from my radical neck dissection, still unable to move my neck, feeling and really looking like Frankenstein. If there was anyone in line I went to high school with or once traded laughs with they wouldn't have known it was me. I stood among strangers who eyeballed this strange young woman with the funny looking neck and face...voting.

I had not had the time to fill out an absentee ballot before cancer threw my life into a tailspin...but I had to vote. It mattered to me enough to put aside vanity and comfort to get in line and vote. Waiting in line, standing even was excrutiating.
But in 2004 I did...and at least I know I cast my vote.

Whether it was the heavy strength pain killers or just the raw emotion of standing in line when I wasn't really physically able to do so...I cried like a crazy girl watching a Steel Magnolias, Beaches Marathon after results came in.
But I had NO regrets because I had been there. But still it's hard to swallow such frustration at such a time. The issues of health care that were cornerstones of my voting choice were issues I now stood in full force...living a life I couldn't recognize. And the end of 2004 felt like the precipice of another 4 years of fear and anxiety.

Last night...four years after that voting day...I cast my vote again, healthy, strong and feeling that I had weighed all options and thought about my choices long and hard. This time I quietly slipped in among the crowd. Cancer's scars have faded. But life is very changed and I am four years wiser for it. I can know, in every fiber of my being, that this mattered to me in a very different way...it mattered again and I never will take this right for granted. Electoral college or not...red state or blue state, standing in line with 131 million Americans strong...whoever our choice was...truly is the only place to be on the First Tuesday in November.

What do Everest climbers eat when visiting Rochester

Sean Swarner came to speak for Melissa's Living Legacy's annual benefit, supporting Teens Living with cancer...the website I am currently working on web content for. One of many projects.

Not for anything, but what a fun weekend. Sean is a delight and if you want to book him to speak for you take my word for it, he's a package deal...entertainment included.

Here he is sharing his nutrition knowledge with none other than Matthew Zachary, founder of I'm Too Young For This, who flew in from San Fran (where he was shamelessly networking at yet another conference) to attend. We told Sean that garbage plates were like the Rocky Mountain oyster equivalant of Rochester cuisine...he bought it...and so then decided he was game. He ate the ENTIRE garbage plate.
I have to give him real props for that.

And if you don't think this proves that he is an Ironman he then decided to give a speech just hours after this. And I was in the audience he managed to keep the stomach churning and gurgling really low on the white noise meter.

EDITORS NOTE:
Subsequently, Sean is no longer planning the adventure grand slam...he is in bed with a bottle of Maalox, thinking to himself...gee, that God forsaken place where they frequent eat mushed picnic food on a platter for fun....I survived cancer...twice...survived the Seven Summits and the Ironman with one fully functioning lung and now---done in by this. All homage to Nick Tahoe

awesome people

Ask anyone at our bowling night last night what kind of bowler I am...and you'll be greeted with a stifled smile and a under-the-surface snicker. I stink.
But last night's get-together was so way beyond bowling or scores...although there was some discussion at the end of our meeting of assembling more serious bowling event in the future.
But bowling was just the backdrop for total inspiration.

Our group of young survivors here in Rochester is so amazing, as a whole and individually. I feel so privileged to call them fellow survivors and friends. Everyone is from different walks of life but all of us share so much. From the survivor currently in treatment to the survivor who is just about to celebrate 10 years kicking cancer's arss to the survivor who felt guilty because she had the 'good cancer'. By the way, if a doctor is reading this: never tell your patient they have the good cancer. That is just bad taste all around.
Our journeys are a fabric of a movement across the country to get busy living. I am proud to know Matthew Zachary (although we have yet to meet in person) and I am so totally motivated by the fact that his brainchild is about handing leadership to young survivors themselves.
His attitude is kind of like if we're cancer's red headed step-child than let's take the reins ourselves. That's the attitude that is shaping change.

Cancer charities are so abundant and the attitude is that every need is filled. But we need to realize that their are gaps programatically and demographically in these services. We must hold everyone accountable for the untapped need and make our community aware. In young adult outreach this is truly the new dawn of realization. I'm Too Young For This, Planet Cancer, The SamFund, the Ullman Cancer Foundation...take your pick. All of these organizations are so in our corner. And I have to say when someone's in your corner it makes you want to step out of the shadows.