The Big “C” (and that ain’t CAKE, baby)

If you’re reading this post, I’m fairly certain you’ve been touched in some way by The Big “C.” It’s a nasty, relentless thing, this “C”, and it shows no bias towards its choice of victims. My father had several bouts with it, both bladder and lung tumors, but eventually succumbed to complications from chemotherapy. A rash of people on both sides of my family have had numerous skin cancers removed over the years, and I recently learned that an old college friend had been diagnosed with prostate cancer.

It’s scary.

Studies show that 1 in 5 people will develop some form of skin cancer in their lifetimes. 1 in 5. That’s just skin cancer. The odds are stacked against you when you throw in all the other cancer possibilities.

I recently completed a colon trace test kit and sent it back to the lab for analysis. I waited several weeks for “the phone call.” You know…the one saying, “Mr. Suggs, I’m afraid we’ve found some blood in your samples. In fact, we found an alarming amount. We need to schedule you for an immediate colonoscopy.” Although I didn’t consciously dwell on it, it apparently nettled my conscience big time. I remember the day my phone rang and the caller ID showed the doctor’s number. I remember staring at it for a moment while all of the possibilities stretched out before me in a relatively short line that ended at Death’s door. Yes, it only took a moment. I also remember the flutter in my chest, the catch in my breath as I answered the call, and the rubbery feel of my legs as the nurse assured me she was only calling to schedule my annual check-up months out.

I think the Big “C” scares all of us on some level.

But, why are you breaking from the literary lane to promote cancer awareness, you may ask.

Good question. I don’t think a specific cause is really necessary with such a terrible disease, do you? I’m not a rich man. I decided years ago to ease off the rat race and drop out of “the one who dies with the most toys wins!” dead heat that many people get caught up in. I live a simple life. But I felt compelled to do something specific because of a certain young lady whom I had the pleasure of meeting five or so years ago in the city of Colorado Springs, Colorado. Her name is Cicily Janus. I was a fledgling writer seeking advice and guidance on the first (or second?) version of my first novel. I sent a broadcast out to a local writers group for assistance. Cicily, a stranger to me at that point, was the only one to answer. Well, one thing led to another, and eventually we became friends in person. I would visit her, or she would drop by, and we would talk about things of a creative nature, writing being only one of those, and the conversation flowed easy enough. A few weeks into this friendship, I received a text one day from Cicily. She needed someone to pick up something at her apartment and bring it to her. I thought it sounded a little odd. Was she moving? Moments later she responded that she was in the hospital. I knew nothing of Cicily’s health issue, and at the time, it didn’t matter. I made sure she got that item she needed. To make a long story short, I visited Cicily in one hospital or another for the next two years. It was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for me, but I couldn’t imagine the physical and emotional pain she was going through. As a footnote, the Big “C” wasn’t even part of the dialogue during that time.

In 2012, because of several personal reasons, my family and made a decision to move back east. It had been a few weeks since I’d heard from Cicily. I had assumed she was still recovering from her last hospital stay, and respected her time to heal. The very day we were packing out, I received a call from her. She wanted me to visit her in a Denver hospital. I had no idea she had suffered a relapse. It was a heartbreaking conversation, but I had no choice as we were literally pulling away from the door within an hour.

A good friend of our, Karen, kept a select number of us updated by email on Cicily’s medical situation over the next few years. I prayed for her and reached out a few times to offer encouragement, feeling that no one person should have to go through this much pain and emotional turmoil with their body. Then, in June of 2015, she was diagnosed with Acute Myeloblastic Leukemia (AML.) She started chemo and was in remission by November. Great, right? By December she was in ICU battling Pneumonia brought on by the chemo. Then, three weeks ago the Big “C” returned. 

Cicily is currently undergoing her second round of chemo.

Another friend of Cicily’s started a campaign on GoFundMe to help her with the never-ending medical bills and other expenses that come with the territory. You can check it out here. Like I said earlier, I’m a simple man. If I had deep pockets, I would quietly take a big chunk out of her mounting bills. But I don’t. After much thought, I’ve decided to donate all royalties from the sale of any of my books on Amazon for the next 30 days (5/12/16 thru 6/12/16) to Cicily’s GoFundMe campaign. I was slow in coming to this decision because I feared others would see this as shameless book promotion at Cicily’s expense. There could be nothing further from the truth. Besides the small amount I could possibly donate out-of-pocket, this was the only other way I could contribute, beyond my unyielding emotional and moral support.

If you’ve read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you feel charitable in your heart, please take a moment to consider supporting this young lady and single mother of three beautiful girls, by contributing to her GoFundMe campaign ~ or picking up one of my books before June 12th. (I will be calculating the royalties from the 2nd quarter sales reports for the dates above.)

Thank you,

Byron

Author’s Note: I’ve omitted some personal details on Cicily’s medical issues out of respect for her privacy. You can follow Cicily’s Blog here. She also has a wonderful book on the Jazz, which you can find here. And lastly, please share and disseminate as widely as possible. Cicily, her family and friends, and of course, myself, would be eternally grateful.