A Story I Felt That Should Be Shared...Brain Power 5k THIS Weekend!

As I prepare for another 5k this coming weekend, I also prepare mentally and emotionally for what the 5k represents- Brain Cancer Awareness. I know I will be surrounded by others fighting against brain cancer, and I know I will be asked for our story, what brought me to the run. I'm sure I'll share hugs with a stranger, who knows all too well our fight, and tears with others, as we share the devastation that is brain cancer. But I'm also sure these hugs will involve smiles, new friends and a community of people fighting for one common fight: A Cure. 

Before Dad was diagnosed, I had no idea what a Brain Cancer diagnosis really meant, nor could I have imagined what a Glioblastoma (GBM) diagnosis meant either- and maybe that's a good thing. Our story has been one filled with hope, faith and love- and we continue to fight every single day to beat cancer. You really don't realize how blessed you are until you hear of others going through something more difficult, and as I read the story below I couldn't help but thank God for these last 11 months with Dad. The story below is sad, that I will not deny, and I read it all with tears streaming down my face, as I know that story could have easily been about my own Dad. But the story doesn't end with sadness or loss of hope, no, the story ends with a change of perspective and a new found view on the world. The writer ended her story by saying: "My life is not how I imagined it would be right now, but it is beautiful, I cherish it and I will do my best to make it a worthy one. My dad would have it no other way." 

What a beautiful way to live. 

I encourage you all to read the story below and remind yourself how precious life really is, how little moments become big moments and how blessed we all really are in this world. I also encourage you all to send lots of thoughts and prayers on Sunday, as I meet with other families fighting brain cancer, and as I run for those who fight harder than I could ever imagine each and every day. As always, keep praying, as we keep fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

#RunningForLar #RunningForReagan

Erin Boyle Dempsey Writes on her family's experience with Brain Cancer

August 17, 2014

By Erin B. Dempsey

Cancer is never a word anyone wants to hear. Especially when that word is affecting someone that you love with all of your heart. When you hear the word cancer and then you hear it is in your loved one’s brain, such news can nearly knock you to the floor. I know this because my dad was diagnosed with glioblastoma on Labor Day of last year, and had I not been sitting in a car with my sister upon hearing the news I would have fallen to the floor. I know I could barely breathe, barely move. I was crying and my sister was crying and we could barely get ourselves to the right building to see my dad and just hug him. After hearing the words “brain cancer” our world fell apart as we knew it and because of those two words my family and I will never be the same.

My dad, James Philip Boyle, was a healthy, active, amazing sixty-five year old when he was diagnosed with glioblastoma. Sixty-five years old. To me, my dad was my hero. A living angel. My best friend. He was the life of the party and the most intellectual man I have ever known. My dad was the love of my mom’s life as he was hers; he was the apple of his grandchildren’s eye; he was a newsman. I spoke with my dad nearly every day and he was always, always a voice of reason amongst the chaos. Brain cancer took all of that away from me and from my family in less than twenty-four hours.

At the time of my dad’s diagnosis, I am being honest when I say that I am not sure I even really knew what a “brain cancer” diagnosis meant. I knew that my dad’s situation was dire. I had read enough that day to know that he (and all of us) were in for the fight of our lives. And I knew that we had very little time to prepare before we needed to take action.

Having to make life and death decisions when you are in complete despair is a terrible position to be in. I would never wish that on anyone. My dad, being my dad, made the decision to immediately press forward. It was his body, his life, his decision. We completely honored it even though it was the beginning of a series of the worst nights of our lives. Following the biopsy, when we had just found out that my dad’s tumor was the worst of the worst, he suffered a terrible stroke that left him unable to breathe on his own for nearly ten days. My dad lost his ability to speak, to move the right side of his body, to walk, to live the life that he loved, in minutes.

To see someone you love in ICU, not being able to breathe on their own and possibly even dying, when just hours before you were celebrating a holiday with him, laughing with him and watching football with him, is something that I am not sure I have ever wrapped my head around. I have come to the conclusion that I may never truly understand it and maybe I am not meant to. I certainly hope that nobody else has to feel this way though. It is one of my greatest wishes and something that I will be working for in my lifetime.

When I think about the suffering my dad experienced after the biopsy, one of the things that comforts me is that he was 100% ready to fight with whatever he had and he was ready to do it at that moment. He went into that surgery room as brave as anyone could ever be and he was brilliant. I am thankful we had that night together before the surgery and I thank God every day for the six months he was able to stay with us after the surgery.

I am different now. We are all different now. Losing my dad to brain cancer has moved me in directions I never thought possible. I am always thinking about how lucky we were to have that extra time with him. To shower him with love and to make sure from the depths of our soul that he knew just how much we loved him and how he had impacted our lives. Not everyone gets that time before losing a loved one, and I am keenly aware of that fact.

I miss my dad every second. There are times when I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me because I realize that I will never see him again. And then I think to myself how many others must feel this way too, and that being in this club is not one that anyone should ever have to be in. Every time I would have to say goodbye to my dad, I would give him the biggest bear hug and say: “Dad, I am giving you all of my energy. Take all of it.” And I know that he heard me and understood me when I said it. Now I am going to give all of my energy to my family, to my friends and to help in the fight against brain cancer. My life is not how I imagined it would be right now, but it is beautiful, I cherish it and I will do my best to make it a worthy one. My dad would have it no other way.