2 Timothy 4:7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. My father fought the good fight. We continue to fight in his memory. These are the cookies that I made for my biggest supporters in the fundraising battle against Cancer. Story below and for those that just want to see the cookies and cookie cutters, here you go:
Fighting glove available in my Etsy shop:
I made some cookie tags for use in the fight against Cancer. You can use them too. Download your own copy by clicking here.
For those doing the Breast Cancer Walk or Relay For Life, this is a great cookie cutter to use for fundraising cookies. Available here in my Etsy shop.
HOPE cookie cutter available here in my Etsy shop
And then I just HAD to make a PINK POWER cookie cutter! Available here in my Etsy shop.
And then I made a "We Can Do It" girl. I named her Pinkie ;-) available here in my Etsy shop.
and from yesterday's post, Tami of Tami Rena's Cookies designed this beautiful butterfly winged Cancer ribbon for me. Available now in my Etsy shop.
and I made this angel wing Cancer ribbon for those we fight in memory of. Available in my Etsy shop here.
Cancer ribbon with inset available here in my Etsy shop
And then I made a LiveStrong bracelet oval too. Available here in my Etsy shop.
The cookies that I sent to my 3 top fundraising supporters for the LiveStrong Challenge:
I know most everyone has had Cancer touch their lives in one way or another. We are in this fight together. And here's my story for those interested: In September 2007, my dad told me that he had Esophageal Cancer. I took 7 1/2 months off from my regular world and spent almost every day with him. I took him to his daily radiation appointments. When he was strong, we walked through his neighborhood. Most days, he fell asleep on the couch exhausted from the chemotherapy and radiation and I sat by his side trying to not make any noise so he could rest. I fed him through his feeding tube. The liquid calories was cold as I pushed it through the catheter straight into his stomach feeding tube, so I told him it was steak and potatoes and with a yummy chocolate cake for dessert. It made him smile. Once he asked me to call 911 for an ambulance and he warned me what it would look like when they arrive. He worried about ME when he was going through all that. That's the kind of man he was.
On March 6th, 2008 my dad went in for surgery. I took a video of us talking together while they were prepping him. I kissed him and told him to hurry back. Then my family and I waited in the waiting room for 17 hours. Following the surgery, my dad had gone into a coma. For 36 days. Thirty six days. The kids and I hung out in his hospital room. Nick even slept in the chairs in his room. My dad came out of the coma once. I walked into his hospital room and he woke up. I yelled for the nurse. She was shocked and called the doctor. It wasn't like what you see in the movies. He didn't look like my dad. He looked like a man writhing in pain. The doctor put him in an induced coma to let his body heal. In our family, I was the only one that got to see him awake.
On April 11th, the doctors called a meeting. My sister and I and my step-mother and many doctors and staff met in a large conference room. They said it was time to end life support. I felt like I had been fighting an exhausting fight right along with my dad. I had been constantly trying to stay positive and pump up the doctors that my dad would improve. I told my step-mother that the bed sores did not reflect the big picture. I could see that my father was fighting. They made the decision and I stood up in front of the entire group and did my best. I tried to say everything in my heart with my shaky voice and tried to hold back tears. It didn't make a difference. So I ran out of the conference room. I ran down the halls of the hospital, crying. I had to get away. I ran and ran. Then I found a bathroom and snuck in there and locked the door. I had a full-on panic attack. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want anything to touch me, not clothes, not jewelry, not people, I just needed to try to breathe, but I couldn't.
The next day, April 12, 2008, we gathered at the hospital to say our good-byes. How do you say goodbye to your hero, your biggest fan, your daddy? The doctors said my dad would go immediately. But they didn't know my dad. My dad proved to them he was still fighting. He held on for 2 1/2 hours while they kept doing things on his machine. He fought. The nurse told me that my dad was waiting for me to say it was okay for him to go. I couldn't.
Why do I have pink hair? Because my dad said that it was very "me". He understood me and he loved me and I never, ever doubted that. Why do we participate in the LiveStrong Challenge every year, cycling 100 miles through wind and exhaustion? So that one day, a daughter won't have to watch her hero die of this horrible disease.
I miss you every single day dad. I wasn't ready to let you go and I'm still not ready, but I'm so incredibly thankful for our time together and for you being the kind of man that taught me to be who I am. I'm thankful that God chose you to be my daddy.
Thank you to everyone that supported the LiveStrong Challenge with our fundraising efforts and to those that volunteered at the event and to those that rode in the event. Together we fight.
Cancer blog background for today: