It was a little over seven years ago, in May 2004, when Melanie had her first cancer surgery, and while I was not aware of it at the time, that is also the month when Lance Armstrong and Nike put their heads together to begin an ad campaign that perhaps gave many cancer survivors a new way to view their cancer. Collapsing two words into one that says it all Livestrong. Attempting to take away the cancer = death analogy that so many of us have long carried, the new word resonated in the imagination—a place that can lead to envisioning a new way out of the old. Reminding cancer survivors, their family, and friends, and the world that cancer is something that today millions live with AND that living is the operative word. While still a killer, many cancers have been tamed; others even eliminated. Hearing that new word Livestrong made so much sense to me then and now.
Melanie was the first one to procure one, but very quickly Chris and I acquired them and bought some for Justin and Farracy. Without any discussion we wore them daily. It was a way to silently stand with Melanie in the scary face of metastasized cancer In fact, maybe it was not having to say anything that helped the most. We could wear them with no explanation or second-guessing on our part and the way they became ubiquitous made it easy. It seemed that the world was poised stand in solidarity with those who affected by the disease with a myriad of faces.
Selling for just one dollar each, Lance and Nike set the ambitious goal of raising $25.1 million dollars. Who would a have imagined that a plastic bracelet that no grown person would be caught wearing a few weeks before, would reach their target goal in six months? Becoming the instant rage, they were almost impossible to get your hands on. While known to think big, even Lance must have been as shocked by the chord he struck in the American psyche—perhaps as shocked as he was several years earlier to discover that he had won a fight against the testicular cancer that had metastasized to his brain and lung. But Lance is a man of audacious goals; that is the kind of guy he is so perhaps he was not surprised at all.
Since 2004 I have pretty much worn the bracelet continuously. It became a talisman. In those earliest years, when I felt helpless to do anything to help Melanie, serving as a visible reminder that I too needed to Livestrong—for her as well as for myself. After she was able to move out of our home and lived on her own, it made me feel closer to her—present without hovering (which I so desperately wanted to do). And when she was in the woods or at sea for 40 days, I think I somehow believed that by wearing it, she would have a sign and know that I was standing with her. Yes, there was a lot of magical thinking going on, but it helped.
Wearing that bracelet also helped me know I was not alone in standing with a loved one with cancer. Glimpsing a bit of yellow under the cuff of a shirt or blazing out on someone else’s bare arm reminded me that Melanie is not alone in this fight nor is her family. And I am not alone. There are others—others who are trying to live their lives with dignity, meaning strength, and cancer. Seeing that bracelet on others served to make me more compassionate. While never knowing whether the wearer was a cancer survivor or someone who loved one, my heart reached out to them—made me see them in a way I might not have otherwise. For every wearer, that childish bracelet points to a hidden pain in the life of another, and seeing it, I pause, and honor, and stand with that pain. It has brought me deeper friendships.
Lately I have been considering taking it off. At Melanie’s and Ben’s wedding it was conspicuously absent. No one there, least of all Melanie, needed to be reminded that living strong was part of the celebration. It is such a part of how she has chosen to live her life in spite of cancer. With Ben bringing to their life such great love and strength of his own, living strong is just part of who they are.
Melanie has taught me much not just about how to live strong with cancer but about how to live, period. For all of us, the bracelet has been one of those outward signs of what has become an inward strength and grace. Hmmm…sounds awfully familiar. A little plastic bracelet sacrament—blessing those who wear it. And perhaps like many sacraments, eventually, those visible signs become internalized—lived out in the world. The water of baptism dries off and the baby is loved into a new life.
When I began writing I thought I would be writing about taking my yellow bracelet off, but now? I am just not so sure. So at least for today I will wear it remembering what it has taken for my daughter to learn to live with cancer. And I will wear it for all those whose lives are troubled by cancer; for those living strong with it and all who love them. I will wear it for those struggling just to get through the next hour, or day, or the treatment. I wear it for those who have lost a loved one to the ravages of cancer. I will live it as a reminder that none of us fights this battle alone. LIVESTRONG…
