Walking is a part of my life.  It saved me during Leroy’s cancer battle.  Just putting one foot in front of the other, even if it was just for a few blocks, gave me fresh air and the space I needed to rethink the latest crisis from cancer on a daily basis.  On good days, when I could do a few miles or more, I was ready for just about anything.

Walking saved me.

So there I was this early morning; the sky was blue and just waking-up to a very bright sun.  The humidity hadn’t caught up to the temperature yet, but I knew it was only a matter of a few hours and that Mid Atlantic “summer sweat” would be upon me.

There he was, one of my favorite dogs on the block, getting in his morning walk before the heat.  He was with his “Mom” and we stopped to say our usual “Hello’s.”  She didn’t have her usual smile and when I asked how she was doing, the words spilled out.  “My Dad has cancer.” “He’s 82 and he has colon cancer.”

Diagnosed in a foreign country and not one known for cancer research or cancer care, she and her siblings have decided Dad should be treated in the U.S.A..  He’s already been evaluated.  His chemo is scheduled to begin in a few weeks and then from there, the doctors said, surgery could be in his future.  She’s a concerned daughter.  The worry lines on her forehead confirm that.  He’s a lucky man to have kids who are able to give him the best treatment choices.  And from one care giver to a soon-to-be care giver, we talked about the effects of treatment and some ideas on how to deal with that.

And so, the journey begins.

Cancer knows no boundaries.

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