Relay For Life a life-affirming event

Over the weekend the Chelsea Standard had the privilege of reporting on the Relay For Life at the Chelsea Community Fairgrounds.
The Relay is the biggest annual fund-raiser for the American Cancer Society, and the local event generated more than $55,000 in pledges.
It’s a 24-hour event that takes place in thousands of communities nationwide, but its focus is local.
Local team members, local companies and organizations, local volunteers; all raising money or donating goods and services to help track down a killer.
Participants walk for several reasons: sometimes it’s in memory of a loved one whom cancer has claimed; many times it is for someone who has stared death in the face and conquered it.
Most poignant are those who walk even while the disease continues to ravage their bodies.
Witnessing their courage and dedication is what makes it such an honor and privilege to be involved.
I, too, have walked in a Relay. At the time I was editor of the Albion newspaper, and I simply wanted to show support for a young reporter who recently had lost his mother to cancer.
We had signed up several co-workers but when the event arrived, only one of them showed up.
I stayed with Tom virtually the entire 24 hours, awestruck by his focus and determination.
The toughest part of the Relay comes in the middle of the night, when participation and motivation is, understandably, sparse.
You have a lot of time for introspection at 3 a.m. Why are these people out here, missing a night of sleep or a favorite TV show or ball game? Why are they putting themselves though such fatigue and soreness?
If the American Cancer Society just wants to raise money, why don’t we just write them a check and go home?
Well, the answer dawned on me, literally at about dawn.
This is not about money. It’s about sacrificing a few hours of comfort to commemorate the ultimate sacrifice made by cancer victims and their families.
Cancer has a vicious tendency to run in families, and I consider myself extremely lucky that my family has been pretty much untouched by it.
My closest association with cancer was through my father-in-law, Hager Large.
Not long after the Relay that I walked in Albion, doctors discovered something in him that had gone undetected for many years.
The surgery to remove half his tongue and lower jaw went about as well as one could expect, but a blockage in his carotid artery also had gone unnoticed — until a clot broke loose and caused a major stroke in the recovery room.
The most cruel thing was that it did not kill him outright.
This generous, jovial and gentle man spent every day of the final five years of his life in agony I’d rather not try to comprehend.
If it was just a matter of writing a check, I’d gladly turn over half my salary.
But the memory of Hager Large, Carol Kochinski and the millions of other cancer victims and survivors is worth a lot more than that.