It’s been more than a month since the Head for the Cure Kansas City 2024 5K, and I can not stop thinking about it. It truly has become one of my favorite days of the year full of so many emotions but mainly hope. A question I get asked a lot is “Who do I walk for?”.
The answer to this is two fold. The first answer is fairly simple, my dad. My dad was diagnosed with a glioblastoma multiforme in January of 2023. His diagnosis was a complete shock to us, and the prognosis the doctors originally gave him crushed us, 4-15 months. How does someone who appears completely healthy and full of life have so little life left? How do you prepare for such a horrible event while trying to remain hopeful that he has more time? After his diagnosis, we were determined to find the hope in this grim future ahead. Luckily, we found Head for the Cure and were able to participate in the 2023 5K. The day was therapeutic for my entire family. We were able to meet other families and survivors that were walking this same journey as us, some further along, and some just beginning. We were able to find a community that would walk alongside us.
As I have gotten more involved in HFTC, the second answer to the question of “Who do I walk for?” becomes more apparent. While yes, I still walk for my dad and will always walk for him. Now I walk for my mom and the other caregivers that are emotionally and physically exhausted from this “new normal” they are now living in. I walk for the parents who have just been told their young child has brain cancer, and they might not see their next Christmas. I walk for the siblings of a brain cancer survivor as they hope and pray for a few more years. I walk for the children of a brain cancer survivor who are suddenly realizing their dad might not walk them down the aisle on their wedding day, or their mom might not be at their graduation. I walk for the spouse or partner of the patient as they dread a future without their life partner. I walk for the neurosurgeons, oncologists, and researchers who have dedicated their lives to walking alongside families like mine through this gut wrenching time in our lives. I walk for all these reasons and many more.
But mainly, I walk in hopes that there will be one day when the words “I have brain cancer” are not immediately met with fear, heartache, and grief; but, instead with the knowledge that there is still joy in the days to come, there is faith in the treatment available, and there is hope for the future. That is what I walk for, hope.