Robbinsdale Schools
Relay for Life raised over $70,000 for the American Cancer Society during an
all-night relay attended by the District Superintendent, students, parents,
teachers, district staff, former staff, grandparents, and community members.
During the luminaria ceremony, I gave the speech below. Halfway through, they
turned out the lights. In the picture, I’m the guy WITHOUT the bagpipes…
In March of 2011, my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer.
A few weeks later, I started a blog with a line that read, “From the first
moment my wife discovered she had breast cancer, there was a deafening silence
from the men I know. Even ones whose wives, mothers, or girlfriends had breast
cancer seemed to have received a gag order from some Central Cancer Command and
did little more than mumble about the experience.
“Not one to shut up for any known reason, I started a blog…”
I’ve been writing GUY’S GOTTA TALK…ABOUT BREAST CANCER ever
since. Over two hundred entries on everything from pink wrist bands, to the
drugs Regions Hospital used to treat the cancer, to quotes from men, joining the
American Cancer Society’s Relay For Life; all the way to starting a science fiction
novel called FANTASTIC BREAST CANCER VOYAGE.
Those of you who don’t know me are probably asking
yourselves WHY I would write three hundred and seventy pages about breast
cancer.
But it was never just about breast cancer.
I wrote about me and how I was dealing with it.
I will never forget the day the diagnosis was confirmed.
Even thinking about it now makes my stomach drop into my feet.
My biggest complaint though, was that there was no one there
for ME. Now that I’ve finally had time to reflect on it seriously, I realize
that I’m glad I didn’t say most of what was going through my head.
The fact was that I DID have support. I had the support of
the buddies and brothers and colleagues – and even students in my life. Though
in my defense, MY idea of support would have been a long, sit down talk. With
me doing most of the talking. But as some of you have by now figured out,
that’s USUALLY not how men operate; at least the men I talked to about Liz’s
breast cancer.
Number one, was my oldest and best friend – outside of my
wife – Jon. I called Jon before I called anyone else on the day Regions’ breast
cancer center confirmed the diagnosis and began to work on the treatment. Jon
didn’t say much. In fact, Jon NEVER said much. But on the day of the double
mastectomy, he sat across from me in the hospital waiting room – my daughter,
my sister, my sister-in-law, and my wife’s best friend were all there, too, and
I love them for it. But Jon was the dude-in-the-room. Quiet. Strong. THERE.
Of course my dad and brothers were there as well – but they were
the quiet types; patting me on the back, shaking their heads, and supporting me
in the best way they could do.
There were really too many for me to remember. But I want to
remember one man who came to me out of the blue while I was giving tests in the
English Computer Lab here at Cooper. Some of you know that I was a science
teacher before I was a guidance counselor. Most of my time here at Cooper, I
taught ninth grade physical science. Nate was a fourteen-year-old in my science
class in 2007. He was funny. Crazy. He had a bunch of friends who were also
funny and crazy. They made me laugh often, and usually made my days as a
teacher EASIER rather than harder. As they moved on to tenth, eleventh, and
twelfth grade, I saw them fairly often – usually giving them a hard time. They
still made me laugh.
My wife’s breast cancer diagnosis came in March of 2011.
Nate was a senior. I was a guidance counselor then, and of course it got around
that I wasn’t really “all there” all the time; spending hours at home and at
chemo sessions, doing whatever I could to help Liz recover. One day at the end
of a state testing day, Nate came into the computer lab. He stood at the desk
and waited until I was done cleaning up, then said suddenly, “Hey, Mr.
Stewart.”
“Hey, Nate. What’s up?”
“I just wanted you to know that my mom had breast cancer,
too, and she’s OK now.”
I should have warned you ahead of time, that I’m a hugger. I
didn’t know what to say, so I stood up in the computer lab, and said, “Can I
give you a hug?”
He was only slightly weirded out, but he willingly lifted up
an arm. I hugged him, thanked him, and that was it. A few days later, he
followed my “Guy’s Gotta Talk…About Breast Cancer” Facebook page. He’s been
following it ever since. Not loudly. No comments, but I know he’s there.
[Though as a post note, after word got out that I’d done this speech, I got “Likes”
on Facebook from his whole crew, plus a huge group of former students!]
I know they’re all there – all the guys who can’t say much
because they don’t know WHAT to say when faced with someone they love having
cancer.
All this to say that there were guys in my life who cared
enough to stand by me QUIETLY.
Last of all, I’d like to point out that there are currently
a whole lot of guys NOT so quietly supporting the OTHER caregivers in this very
stadium. To YOU all, I thank you! [Bow to them]
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