Miss Kitty's Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Blog

I love it! People are spreading the word like wildfire! Family member's co-workers. Friend's family members. Thank you! We are making a difference right now. Thank you!

I upped my goal. I felt it was time. I thank you for all of your support thus far. I know that working together, we really can make a difference and I want to push this as far as I can take it.

The Avon Walk people have worked out a kind of reward system for those of us raising funds. If you raise a certain amount, you get certain gifts. I'm not exactly sure how to feel about the reward program. I would try to raise as much money as I could regardless of whether or not I got a "prize" for it, you know? But I can understand how a personal incentive might help some people try to raise more. Personally, if I can be selfish for a minute, I would love to raise $7,500 to get the camel back, the fanny pack, and the pin. The camel back and the fanny pack would come in really handy during the walk, and they're just cool. But I'm going to take this in increments. I've raised over $1,000 in just about three weeks. If that momentum keeps up, I could reach the $7,500. But I have to be realistic and recognize the fact that the momentum will not stay the same. How can I ask for duplicate donations from the same people who have already been so generous, you know? But I think I can do more than the $2,000 I originally set as a goal. Which is why, for now, I have upped my goal to $3,000. If I make that goal, great. If I don't, I'll know I did the best I could. Hopefully, I'll have to up my goal again before this is all over.

And thank you all again for your support, encouragement and enthusiasm. If it wasn't for you guys, I couldn't do this at all. So thank you.

So I went shopping last night to get something to wear for my gig on the 13th. I figure, this is my first real show, where it's just me playing. Granted, there will be guest appearances, but you know what I mean. And I'm excited about it. I want to treat it like an actual performance, which it is. So I got myself a costume. It is not entirely me (as in I won't be wearing my green cords), but it is not entirely not me, either, so I think I'll still be comfortable. And if anyone wants to accuse me of selling out and going for a certain image, screw that. I will be highlighting my femininity in my own way, and seeing as I am doing all of this in the first place in support of a cause that primarily benefits women (because while men can get breast cancer, too, they get it far less frequently than women do), I think what I'll be wearing is perfectly appropriate. Kind of rock 'n roll. Kind of odd. Kind of stylin' in my own way. I dig it. I hope you guys do, too.

I'm so excited for the 13th!

I am officially halfway to my fundraising goal! Hooray and thank you!

And now it is time to up my goal...

I went to another getting started meeting yesterday. Man, I wish all of you could have been there, too. We heard from a couple of people, one of whom works with women who are directly helped by the monies rasied through the Avon Walk. She told us about a woman who waited until one breast was four times bigger than the other one before going to a doctor because she didn't have insurance and she didn't know that she could get the time off of work. Four times bigger. The woman didn't live very long after treatment began, but the contact with the doctors made her passing a little bit easier, a little more humane. The money rasied through these walks helps women who wouldn't be able to get help otherwise. It supports 24-hour multi-lingual national hotlines, staffed by breast cancer survivors who can give advice, support, and counseling to people diagnosed with breast cancer and no idea what they should do next. One of the things one of the Avon Walk guys said was, "This is not about making a difference someday; this is about making a difference now. We are making a difference." I'm thrilled to be making a difference. Now.

And in case I didn't say it already, I want to thank the Tom Beeyachski Band again. The donation they are making from Friday night's performance is much bigger than I thought it was going to be. Thank you, Tom Beeyachski Band, for your generosity.

Thank all of you who have made a donation for your generosity. You are making a difference. Right now.

I'm so excited for my show on the 13th.

Last night, the Tom Beeyachski Band played and donated 25% of the door to my cause. Out of the blue, they just decided to turn it into a night about breasts, and not in they way a Beeyachski show is normally about breasts. So a great big thank you to the Tom Beeyachski band and everyone who came out last night for some great music, great people, great food, and a really great cause.

But truth be told, I really wanted to be up there on stage. I can't wait for my gig when I get a chance to play for two hours for people. Yes, I know it won't be like a Beeyachski gig -- that's kind of the point. But I play some good music. I play some fun tunes. I play some tunes that might tug at your heartstrings, too. And I just think it's going to be fun. I'm going to go kind of rock and roll with it. Meaning I should practice standing in my go-go boots for two hours...

So I walked outside for about a mile this evening. Why? I was going to pick up my car from the dealership. That's not important. The important part is that I now fully understand and appreciate why the Avon Walk is taking place in Chicago in June, not January. It was cold! My legs were numb after about a minute of being outside. My gloved hands had to be in my pockets most of the time for an extra bit of warmth. My breath would escape over the rim of my scarf and sting my eyes and then condense on my eyelashes.

But as I was walking outside in the cold, it occurred to me that if I could walk under those conditions, I can make it 39.3 miles in June to work towards a cure. Thirty-nine point three is seeming to be a smaller and smaller number all of the time.

I keeping switching back and forth between having all of this incredible momentum and just wanting to take a moment to cry about the whole thing. The more people I talk to, the more stories I hear about how this disease has taken mothers and friends and grandparents and so on and so forth. Breast cancer does not discriminate between cultures. It does not discriminate based on age. It does not even discriminate based on gender. And it is for these reasons that everyone I know, everyone I have talked to, has been touched by breast cancer in one way or another. It's staggering and kind of overwhelming. I love hearing the stories because they give me momentum and prove to me time and time again that I am doing a good thing here, but they break my heart, too. And I guess that is what the whole Walk is about -- it is about continuing with a broken heart, working hard to try to prevent anyone else from having these horror stories.

I'm anticipating a lot of tears over the next five months -- tears of empathy, tears of sympathy, and tears of joy as we power through the miles as a group, working toward a common goal and a very important cause. I just have to make sure my pants have pockets for Kleenex...

I think I may have to up my goal, thanks to you guys.

I went to a getting started session over the weekend and the guy running it asked us how many of us thought $1800 sounded like a daunting amount of money. About half of us raised our hands. He then went on to tell us that last year, the average walker raised $2,951 for breast cancer research. I'm almost thinking I should up my goal to $3,000, just so I can be "above average."

I think one of the best functions that the Walk is performing for me right now is to act as a motivator to get exercise. I wake up in the morning and think to myself, "It wouldn't kill me to take a day off..." And then the thought that I am going to have to walk thirty-nine point three miles in about five months pops into my head and says, "It might not kill you today, but it will make that walk a lot harder. And you said if you were going to do this, you would do it all the way, give it everything you had." And then I get some exercise. Even if it is just a twenty minute Pilates routine. And according to one friend, you can tell I've been working out. Which is always nice to hear.

I started looking at socks and clothing today, too, with wicking abilities (i.e. that take water away from the skin during exercise). I feel a little silly walking around a sports store looking for this kind of stuff, wearing my jeans and a t-shirt and polyurethane jacket, so I didn't buy anything today. When I get a little further into my training and have a better idea of what I'm looking for, then I'll go shopping again.

So I decided to put together another blog to document my training efforts and fundraising efforts and whatnot for the Avon Walk so you don't have to read about it unless you want to. Or, if you are only interested in reading about that stuff, you don't have to muck about through the rest of my brain droppings to find what you're looking for. The new blog can be found at http://mkavonwalk.blogspot.com. I've put a link to it over on the side, too. Gasp! A link that has a proper name! Yeah, so have fun poking around over there. As I start training and stuff, I may even upgrade so I can post pictures of my blisters and stuff. Yay blisters.

Originally posted on January 16 at 3:22:05pm
I hate to say this because it's all sappy and everything, but I have to say this, too, because I don't want to forget it.

I am consistently amazed at the generosity of the people around me. I thought when I signed up to do this Avon Walk that it would be hard for me to raise the money to participate and whatnot and I am finding exactly the opposite to be the case. Everyone I have talked to knows someone who has or had breast cancer and they are thrilled to help out. They are thanking me for doing this. People I've never met face to face are pitching in money that they may not really be able to afford, just to help out. Because this cause means something to them. And because it means something to me, I get all misty-eyed when I get an e-mail saying I have received another donation. Yes, I'm a dork. But this whole experience is renewing my faith in humans in general. We're not all bad. We're not all selfish. We're not all out to screw each other over. There are a lot of really good, generous, passionate people out there and the knowledge of that fact makes me happier than I could ever tell you.

I'm so excited to do this walk. I'm so in love with the people making donations. Thank you, guys. I can't say it better than that. Thank you.

Originally posted on January 13 at 9:24:13am
When I signed up to do the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, I was all scared that I wouldn't be able to raise the $1800 necessary to participate and that people would yell at me for hassling them to donate money and stuff like that. What I didn't expect was all the support I am getting from both likely and unlikely sources. I didn't expect the people donating on my behalf to thank me for doing this. I didn't expect half-strangers to stop me in coffee shops and wish me luck and share their stories with me. I didn't expect a room full of applause when I mentioned at the open mic last night that I was participating in the Walk. It is stunning and overwhelming and really really wonderful. This is something I'm doing because I want to. And there are tons of people out there ready, willing and able to help me, be it through words of encouragement or participation in fundraising events or through straight monetary donations. I never expected to feel so much love from other people for doing this. I'm only five days into it and I'm learning things about myself and the community in which I live. It is incredible. Thank you, guys. Already this Walk is one of the best things I have ever done and I've hardly taken my first step.

Originally posted January 9, 2004 at 2:58:47pm
I'm doing it. I am going to participate in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer this summer. I'm all buzzed and excited and happy and weepy about it and I feel the need to talk about my first stepmother for a few minutes.

If you look at my dad, you would never in a million years think he would be married three times. I'm sure he didn't think he would be married three times when he was growing up on the farm. But here he is, on his third wife -- all three lovely women. His first wife was my mother and after seventeen-ish years of marriage, they divorced. I was about twelve at the time and I remember being very scared and very angry about the whole thing. I had a birthday the summer while the whole thing was going on and I remember that all I had asked for was that my parents not fight for one whole day. And I also remember that at the time, I had these barettes for my hair that said "Daddy's Girl," and I was so proud to wear them. I loved being my daddy's girl. So the first time I saw him cry...well, I didn't actually see it, I heard it. He went into the basement and wept so that we wouldn't have to see him cry, but the sound is something I don't think I will ever forget. My heart really went out to him.

And just for the record, I would like to say that now, fourteen-ish years after the fact, I am thankful that my parents got divorced. I know that it was the better decision. I'm not angry about any of it; I'm not holding on to grudges or anything. I am totally cool with the fact that I have divorced parents. But at the time, it was really rough.

So when my dad met his second wife, I was thrilled. I remember him asking me for advice about which tie he should wear to a dance that he knew she was going to be at. He called her a "bathing beauty" and smiled when he talked about her. I hadn't seen my dad smile like that in a really long time and it was beautiful. Not long after that, the two of them were dating and my brother and I got to meet the woman who would later become my stepmother. She was not what I would have called a "bathing beauty," but she was nice and she made my dad happy. She was much more proper than my mother had been, but she always treated my brother and I nicely. While she was dating my dad, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went through chemo and radiation and all of that stuff, and they thought they got rid of it. I remember her taking me to McDonald's one day after her chemo treatment because she said she always craved a chocolate milkshake after chemo. And she got strong again and she and my dad started making plans to get married. I remember her taking me shopping for a bridesmaid dress -- she wanted to make sure we would get something I could wear again. And in about March (I think), they were married. It was a lovely ceremony, the first in which I had ever stood up. She moved into our house without her crazy, smelly, but very sweet dog Elliot (he had been put to sleep) and things were changed around a little bit, but it was cool. I liked her. My dad loved her. And she loved my dad. And then the cancer came back. Hard and strong and fast. Granted, I was only at my dad's house half of the time, but it was enough for me to get to see her wasting away. They had to move a hospital bed into the den downstairs because she couldn't make it upstairs anymore. And her mind started to go. By October, she was gone.

I remember watching her suffer and wishing I could have done something or wishing it would all just go away. I remember watching my dad suffer as he lost his second wife and wishing there was something I could do to ease his pain. I remember how long he mourned for her. I would not wish any of that on anyone. Yes, I believe in the "don't knock it 'til you try it" school of thought, but I also think that most people could get through their entire lives just fine without ever having to deal with the pain of cancer or the pain of watching a loved one fight it.

So I finally get a chance to feel like I am doing something about it. On June 5 and 6, I will walk a marathon and a half (39.3 miles) and raise hopefully $2,000 (or more) for breast cancer research and treatment. I know it's not a lot, but it is what I can do.

And truth be told, I'm afraid to ask people for money in my fundraising campaign. But within an hour of sending out my first e-mail to let people know I am doing this, two people made very generous donations. My heart lept in my chest and my eyes started tearing up when I saw the e-mail notifications of the donations. Thank you, guys. I can't tell you how much your support means to me, and to the charities who will be receiving your donations. Thank you.

[shameless plug]If you want more information about the walk itself or would like to make a donation to help me reach my goal, please visit my Avon Walk Home Page.

Originally posted January 9, 2004 at2:58:47pm
I'm doing it. I am going to participate in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer this summer. I'm all buzzed and excited and happy and weepy about it and I feel the need to talk about my first stepmother for a few minutes.

If you look at my dad, you would never in a million years think he would be married three times. I'm sure he didn't think he would be married three times when he was growing up on the farm. But here he is, on his third wife -- all three lovely women. His first wife was my mother and after seventeen-ish years of marriage, they divorced. I was about twelve at the time and I remember being very scared and very angry about the whole thing. I had a birthday the summer while the whole thing was going on and I remember that all I had asked for was that my parents not fight for one whole day. And I also remember that at the time, I had these barettes for my hair that said "Daddy's Girl," and I was so proud to wear them. I loved being my daddy's girl. So the first time I saw him cry...well, I didn't actually see it, I heard it. He went into the basement and wept so that we wouldn't have to see him cry, but the sound is something I don't think I will ever forget. My heart really went out to him.

And just for the record, I would like to say that now, fourteen-ish years after the fact, I am thankful that my parents got divorced. I know that it was the better decision. I'm not angry about any of it; I'm not holding on to grudges or anything. I am totally cool with the fact that I have divorced parents. But at the time, it was really rough.

So when my dad met his second wife, I was thrilled. I remember him asking me for advice about which tie he should wear to a dance that he knew she was going to be at. He called her a "bathing beauty" and smiled when he talked about her. I hadn't seen my dad smile like that in a really long time and it was beautiful. Not long after that, the two of them were dating and my brother and I got to meet the woman who would later become my stepmother. She was not what I would have called a "bathing beauty," but she was nice and she made my dad happy. She was much more proper than my mother had been, but she always treated my brother and I nicely. While she was dating my dad, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went through chemo and radiation and all of that stuff, and they thought they got rid of it. I remember her taking me to McDonald's one day after her chemo treatment because she said she always craved a chocolate milkshake after chemo. And she got strong again and she and my dad started making plans to get married. I remember her taking me shopping for a bridesmaid dress -- she wanted to make sure we would get something I could wear again. And in about March (I think), they were married. It was a lovely ceremony, the first in which I had ever stood up. She moved into our house without her crazy, smelly, but very sweet dog Elliot (he had been put to sleep) and things were changed around a little bit, but it was cool. I liked her. My dad loved her. And she loved my dad. And then the cancer came back. Hard and strong and fast. Granted, I was only at my dad's house half of the time, but it was enough for me to get to see her wasting away. They had to move a hospital bed into the den downstairs because she couldn't make it upstairs anymore. And her mind started to go. By October, she was gone.

I remember watching her suffer and wishing I could have done something or wishing it would all just go away. I remember watching my dad suffer as he lost his second wife and wishing there was something I could do to ease his pain. I remember how long he mourned for her. I would not wish any of that on anyone. Yes, I believe in the "don't knock it 'til you try it" school of thought, but I also think that most people could get through their entire lives just fine without ever having to deal with the pain of cancer or the pain of watching a loved one fight it.

So I finally get a chance to feel like I am doing something about it. On June 5 and 6, I will walk a marathon and a half (39.3 miles) and raise hopefully $2,000 (or more) for breast cancer research and treatment. I know it's not a lot, but it is what I can do.

And truth be told, I'm afraid to ask people for money in my fundraising campaign. But within an hour of sending out my first e-mail to let people know I am doing this, two people made very generous donations. My heart lept in my chest and my eyes started tearing up when I saw the e-mail notifications of the donations. Thank you, guys. I can't tell you how much your support means to me, and to the charities who will be receiving your donations. Thank you.

[shameless plug]If you want more information about the walk itself or would like to make a donation to help me reach my goal, please visit my Avon Walk Home Page.