Running for MS with MS...and Stage III Cancer?

This is an unusual ask, I think, but one I really am hopeful for.

In June of this year I applied to be one of 40 runners participating in this year's New York City Marathon with Team Finish MS, the National Multiple Sclerosis Society's official marathon race team. In my application they asked what my connection to MS is (I live with Secondary Progressive MS), whether or not I have ever done any endurance events before (nine century rides with/for the MS Society and MS awareness - which they already knew - and three half marathons!), whether or not I had ever done any fundraising before (hah!), and, finally, if there was anything else they ought to know before making their decision. I said something like, "Yeah - running the NYC marathon is something I'd like to do before my disease no longer allows me to. You're not going to deny me one of my biggest bucket list items, are you?" I added a smiley face, and two weeks later they enthusiastically accepted me onto the team. I've never run a marathon before! The fact that my very first will be the biggest one on the planet, and that I'm running for this disease that is such a huge part of my identity, is very monumental to me. Thanks to many of you, I was able to raise the $5k required to be able to run the race on November 7 - every dime of which goes to the MS Society. So, so good.

Oh, but then there's this other thing. Three years ago I began a really irritating relationship with quickly-progressing, tricky, small-cell cervical cancer that has really thrown me around quite a bit. After several small-but-rough and unsuccessful attempts at quelling it early on, I had my cervix (and, we thought, the cancer) removed last April (many of you were hugely supportive in that, as well!) In February of this year, however, when I went in for my 10 month check up, we found that there were cancer cells that made it and expanded into the wall of my uterus. We did two rounds of radiation, the last session of which was just a few days ago. It wasn't a fun summer, but I was grateful for the care and hopeful that we were nearing some kind of end.

Unfortunately, a CT scan last week showed tumors on an ovary and also in at least one of my pelvic lymph nodes, categorizing me in Stage 3. This was news I was not expecting, not even a little bit. This week has sucked, to say the least. Not only am I disheartened and overwhelmed emotionally, I also have a new headache to deal with:

I have moved to Durham, which is a happy move for our family and one that brings with it a lot of joy and opportunity. However, I am in need of transferring my care to Duke, which is not in my network and so not covered under my insurance. The investigating we have done tells us that it may be a few months before I can transfer networks. Because of the quick progression of my small-cell cancer, time is of extreme essence and I am going to have to start treatment without being insured.

I know a lot of people use GoFundMe to help them out with medical bills -- I'm glad they do. It's a wonderful, important resource and an incredibly brave thing for those people to ask for, and an incredibly compassionate thing when people donate to help cover the INSANE cost of medical bills in this country. However, right now I am not asking for help with the bills. It will be extremely difficult, and the debt will be enormous and crushing, for sure - but what I am asking for is help making the marathon still happen for me.

A lot of people I'm close to have been shocked to hear that I'm still planning to keep up my training and run in the race, even if I am in the middle of some type of chemo when it goes down. Thing is, to me, this is something I absolutely have to do - now more than before. It is what is keeping me from falling apart, what is making me feel strong and invincible. 

The very thought of still running the race brings me to tears in the most motivated, determined way and the thought of not being able to even attempt it brings me to tears in defeat, self-pity, and total despair.

I can't explain it -- just like I can't fully explain why all the bike riding has delivered me from sadness and fear for the past five years -- but it just does. Having a goal and a possible achievement like this, while facing such a terribly scary thing, is more hope that I could ever wish for. It feels dramatic, maybe. Might seem silly to many folks, and even some people very close to me are irritated at me for prioritizing this - but it's what I need to do. I just need it right now, guys. I really, really do.

Unfortunately, all of the money that I would have used for getting to and from NYC in November, and covering the cost of accommodation, is now going to go toward up-front percentage costs for treatment. So, long story cut short, this campaign is just to help me get to the marathon. I'd ask family for this directly, but I anticipate their having to help with those costs, since my salary can't do it on its own. I know it may feel sneaky or shitty to ask for more donations for the very same marathon that I asked for donations for earlier this summer. I thought I was done with the asking, too! But if anyone still wants to support my marathon who hasn't already donated, this is how you can :) And, of course, ANY leftover funds will go toward my medical bills. 

Please, if you have already donated to the marathon before, through my earlier campaign this summer, please do not donate to this. You have already shown your support for this adventure and your love means so much!

Thank you all for even considering this. I would love for Abbott to be able to say his mama raced and won in the NYC Marathon 2021 with both Multiple Sclerosis and Stage 3 Endometrial Cancer, and even laughed about it.

Breakdown:

Two plane tickets - $300 +/-
Five Nights in NYC (Airbnb/hotel near the finish line) - $1500 +/-
Food/race sustenance (not dining-out meals, but training and energy sustenance for race day and also two training days leading up) - $100
Cortisone shots, post-race - $200