Two things stand out from that first day, seven years ago, when I heard the words “you have cancer." First, I remember dropping to the floor under the weight of those words, because I was unable to bear the load that had just dropped onto my 37 year old shoulders. My sister knelt beside me, but I could not be consoled. Anything that had been comforting in the past was suddenly ineffectual. I felt so lost. I stared achingly at my precious daughter, just six months old at the time, fearing I would not live to raise her.

Later that day, my very wise sister connected me with her friend who shared the same disease.  Judi, a vital young mother of two, was living with lymphoma and sounded like she was really doing the “living” part well. I found fleeting comfort in speaking to someone who had this diagnosis and was not calling from the cemetery. I don’t remember much about what Judi said to me that day. I’m sure wise words of wisdom were imparted; but all I really heard was “I’m living my life, I’m living my life, there’s a charity road race we are going to run in, I’m living my life.” 

Later that year, I realized why I clung so tightly to the idea of the road race. It was empowering. It was a way to take action. My family and I felt so helpless when I was diagnosed; we had so little control over so many things, including the progression of a disease and the health of my body – but having the road race and a fundraising goal allowed me and my family to “do” something. I could decide to act, to get involved. It was invigorating and made me feel powerful.  

For the past 8 years, we have used the venue of a road race to raise over $800,000 for charity. But last year, I was unable to attend the road race. I couldn’t participate because I was preparing for a personal marathon of my own - a bone marrow transplant. My chance at the “cure” had come, and I was hoping to seize it. In the time one has to spend during a transplant, contemplating everything that is meaningful and worthwhile in one’s life, I realized that I needed another target in the future – another “road race” to hang onto, to prepare for, to get me through the year. 

It was incredibly difficult to hear the words “you need to have a transplant;” but I was so fortunate, because I had a perfect match in the registry. And I started to think, what if I hadn’t been so lucky? What if the Feinberg family hadn’t done this great work building Gift of Life and I didn’t have a match? My doctor told me, “15 years ago, you would have little or no chance of finding a match; but because you are Jewish, you have a great chance.” But what if I was African American, or Latino, or Asian, and my chances of finding a match were less than the odds of flipping ‘tails’ during a coin toss? To say the least, it is a disquieting thought…

This thought disturbed Evie Goldfine as well. She was/is my transplant hero. I watched her go through a bone marrow transplant nearly 4 years ago. Evie was saved by a transplant from a donor enrolled in the Gift of Life registry. She herself has served as a courier for GOL and has transported bone marrow as far as Israel. Evie embraces life with an infectious spirit that is transmitted in just one smile. Evie is getting me through my transplant. We have lots of time on the phone, we talk, we plan and we have decided to make an impact.

Sara Jane Harris, my dear friend, has been with me every step of the way of my bone marrow transplant…from cooking me dinners, to making sure I had just the right amount of obscene desserts stacked in my freezer. She knows how to “do” and to step up and sit beside you so you feel supported, even if the news isn’t so good. Luckily for us, Sara Jane is a charismatic leader in community service, and has the energy of 3 or 4 people when it comes to seeing a project through. Professionally trained in education, she is highly experienced in developing educational curricula and helping local communities organize to accomplish their goals. 

One day, it crystallized. Evie, Sara Jane and I had a phone call with the ever-inspiring Jay Feinberg, founder of Gift of Life. Together we discovered that some minority patients have less than 17% chance of finding a match in the World Wide Bone Marrow registry. Everyone should have an equal opportunity of finding a match. We wanted to take Jay’s model of what he did for Jewish patients and help other minorities. Under Jay’s tutelage, we believe we can make Swab a Cheek, Save a Life, a successful, independently funded campaign of Gift of Life Bone Marrow Foundation.

So, we are gathering our energy to “do” some more fundraising. We are hoping to give every person in search of a bone marrow donor an equal opportunity to find a match. To me, that means Road Race!

Please join us in one of Washington D.C.’s most popular runs - the Marine Corp Marathon. For those of you not quite up to the 26 miles, there is also a 10K Road Race, which is a 6 mile trek from the Nation’s Mall (Washington Monument) to the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Virginia.  We invite you to run on Team Swab-a-Cheek on October 25, 2009.

Each runner is asked to raise a minimum of $500 by September 30, 2009. All it takes is getting 20 people to give you $25 in donations. In addition, there is a Marine Corps Marathon registration fee of $88 for the marathon or a $45 fee for the 10K Road Race.

Team Swab-a-Cheek has a limited number of slots available!

Funds raised by participants will support Swab a Cheek, Save a Life’s mission: to enroll committed minority bone marrow donors so that everyone who needs a bone marrow transplant has an equal opportunity to find a donor in the world wide bone marrow registry. For more details or to sign up, contact Lisa Horowitz at roadrace@swabacheek.org call us at 561 982-2919, or visit our website at www.swabacheek.org

Help raise money to swab more cheeks, and retain the cheeks we swab! Join Team Swab-a-Cheek today!