$.97

In the story below, Director Pat Connolly shares a story of a six-year old boy and a pocket full of change. I've been fortunate to teach in a school that has embraced my side project so emphatically. This year Longfellow has once again dedicated its annual penny drive to support Climb for Cancer Care. As per usual, this meant that I had to kick things off with a school wide assembly. I thought hard about the information to share with kids, what photos would draw the "Ooooohs" and "Aaaaaaaahs", what statistics would motivate them to participate in this event yet again. The slideshow entertained the kids. I threw in a few silly lines to make them laugh. I told them all that no donation was too small to make a significant impact. I've said this every year. I truly want the kids two feel empowered by donating a few cents here and there. I wanted my message of we can all make a difference to be profound. It turned out that this message was better demonstrated by a six-year old boy. At the end of my slideshow, the audience roared in approval, fired up to start bringing in the coinage (or to win an extra 20 minutes of recess). My principal agreed to close by accepting two questions from the audience. The first, I regret to say, was forgettable. Probably something to the extent of, "Can we bring in dollars too or just coins?" The next was from a small boy, fairly ragged looking as if he just picked a fight with a bag of potting soil and lost. He reached into his pocket and asked, in front of 400+ students and faculty, "Can I give him some money now?". To a roaring crowd, he came up and handed me $.97. Later I learned that he came from an impoverished family. I looked at the assorted change sitting on my desk: 2 quarters, a dime, a nickel, and a tower of pennies. This was clearly his money - more than likely for a snack at the corner store after school, or a bunch of other things I know I take for granted every day. This boy felt so compelled by what I started and spoke about to literally empty his pockets. As I write this, I still mist up seeing this as one of the most selfless acts of giving I have ever come across. What will your $.97 be? Make a difference today.

$100k lesson from Jess

A new addition to the Climb for Cancer Care team, Jess Perrie, shares her thoughts and reasons for why she is participating in this year's climb: Sometimes life just hands you a lot of crap, and sometimes, its all at once.  This is the place I found myself last fall.  Its always hard to see beyond the crap, to see the future and know that it will be better.  Then I got a phone call from a good friend who I hadn't talked to in a while.  She asked me to become apart of a team of women climbing up Mt. Rainier.  That was the question that brought me out of my hole. When you're going through a struggle, I always find it amazing as to what gives you strength.  It could be anything, from climbing a mountain to a really good piece of cheese.  It doesn't matter where you get it, just that you found it. And whats important is that it keeps you going and helps build perseverance and determination.  I'm hoping that Climb for Cancer Care gives strength to those in need.  I hope that this is what allows them to see the future and fight the hardest battle anyone will ever know. Why am I climbing?  To give someone else the determination.  To let them know that they are not alone. To help them continue the fight. Plus, I hear theres a great view from the top:)

$100k Thoughts from Alana

Alana Campbell is a first time Climb for Cancer Care participant. What follows is a unique perspective we don't always get: the nurse's. Alana is an example for all of us to aspire to in our daily workings, focusing in on the little things that tend to go overlooked yet make the greatest difference. Here is her story: I think it's a safe statement to make that almost everyone has been personally affected by cancer at some point in their lives, I can certainly say the same for myself.  However, beyond watching some of my own family and friends struggle with this disease, I have also watched many, many strangers battle cancer as well.  My first job out of college, at a naive 21 years old, was at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in New Hampshire.  It was there that I put my four years of studying to use, caring for patients on a unit that specialized in surgical cancer treatment.  I started IV's, infused cancer fighting meds, pushed drugs to battle pain, swiftly followed by anti-nausea meds to battle the pain meds...  I could go on and on.  Luckily, nursing school had prepared me to do all of this.  What nursing school didn't teach me however, that I learned during those first years of my career, was to stay in a patient's room just a little longer after pushing those meds - to hold a hand, or rub a back, as someone got sick into their little pink emesis basin.  That warm blankets and soothing CD's did more to battle pain than morphine ever could.  It was the little things that made the biggest difference.  That first nursing job was over 6 years ago.  I am proud to say that I have taken those skills I first learned and am now using them to work with critically ill infants at Maine Medical Center here in Portland.  And while I continue to start IV's, push drugs, and adjust ventilator settings - the true nursing happens when I play a lullaby CD to sooth a stressed infant, snuggle them in a homemade knit blanket and hat, or see the relief on a parents face when I give them a gas card because they can't afford the drive to and from the hospital each day to visit their baby.  All of these things may seem little to us, but they mean the world to our patients and their families, and they are often provided with donated funds.  While I don't work personally with the Gibson Pavilion, I know their patients benefit from the same small comforts that I described above.  Comforts that would not be available if it were not for the help of people like Pat and Climb for Cancer Care.  I consider myself truly lucky that I am able to join the team this year in their fundraising efforts, combining my love of the outdoors and my desire to challenge myself physically, with my passion for the continued comfort and care of the patients at Maine Med.  A big thank you to those who have and will support us, because, while the climb itself is very exciting, it is the donations behind it that give it purpose.

Why I'm Doing This by Jeremy Foster

Jeremy Foster first joined Climb for Cancer Care in 2011 for the coldest, snowiest, windiest C3 on record - the tumultuously fun Mt. Washington attempt. In his story below, Emu states why he is preparing to attack Rainier and raise huge coin in the process: I'm doing this for two reasons.  The first is that I've wanted to climb Rainier since I was 11 years old.  That year, my brother got to go with a Boy Scout troop and he took the last spot on the trip.  He talked about how amazing and beautiful it was, so it's always been something I wanted to see for myself. The second reason is the real reason, and that's for the loved ones in my life and my family's life that have fought cancer at one point in their lives.  For my good friends, Judy Lawler and Ginny Reinholdt, who have been fighting bravely.  And for close friends that I've lost, Al Gould, Dan Veilleux, Uncle Jimmy, and Uncle Dickie.  I think about them almost every day, which makes training for this endeavor so much easier.  I'm thrilled to be a part of this wonderful experience for such a tremendous cause. What's your story? -C3

$100k Lessons

We're back. Apologies to those of you who actually take the time to read this. We are six weeks out from the sixth annual Climb for Cancer Care and are approaching the original goal of $100,000 Director Pat Connolly set when he founded C3 in 2006. As we embark to cross the threshold of $100,000, we will be posting a series of shorts entitled, "$100k Lessons" where this year's climbers will share their personal stories - learned and experienced - related to cancer. Be sure to check back frequently for new posts every few days. Get to know the heroes on the hill; learn what will push them to the top. -C3

Fingers crossed...

The weather looks good.

The conditions have improved nicely the past 2 weeks.

Two peaks in one week? Sounds like fun!

Most importantly, $10,000.00 raised this year, pushing up our 4 year grand total to over $78k! Yeehaw!

We'll try to update our blog over the course of next week (for the 4 of you who read it) and let you know about our trials and tribulations on Mt. Hood (6/28-6/29) amd Mt. Rainier (6/30-7/2).

-C3

Get Mental

Pat Connolly at Frankenstein Cliff, trying to figure out where the hell to go next...

As I was scrupulously looking over my pre-climb equipment list tonight, I began thinking about a crucial aspect left untouched - the mental aspect of Climb for Cancer Care. We've talked at length about fundraising and physical preparedness for our impending (albeit daunting) task that lie ahead. I realize though, that a significant portion of this proposed endeavour - if not the majority - of this year's attempt is going to be mental.

These questions constantly run through my mind while running this program. I don't think about these just for myself, but for everyone who signs on to join me. I want everyone to have a fun, rewarding, if not cathartic experience. I want you to have that moment at the top of the (both literal, and metaphoric) mountain where you break down and realize the accomplishment of your whole effort. Some of you are approaching your milestone of raising over $5,000.

Stop and think about that.

Why are you doing this? Is it for the chance to climb some big, beautiful mountains out west with some folks who happen to have some knowledge and skill? Are you doing this in memoriam of someone? Are you doing this in the existential manner to feel doubt, pain, uncertainty, and reliance on others, so that you may attempt to assimilate what those we are helping feel minute to minute?

Perhaps the answer to the last question is the most important. The answer to this question is what will drive you during the arduous moments. The answer to this question will give you solace if the climb goes other than planned. The answer to this question will tell you how mentally prepared you are for what you will encounter.

My intention is not to come across as the harbinger of self-doubt or negative thoughts; rather, I wish to come across at this point as a touch of reality. At the end of the day, your efforts are raising money for someone who may not see the sunrise tomorrow, let alone from a majestic peak. Your 60 minutes of suffering running stadiums will end at 60 minutes - the man undergoing his latest bout of chemotherapy is uncertain of when his pain will subside. Your choice to participate in this program, and the financial weight it can produce, is trite in comparison to the hospital bill left to the remaining family of a member passed on.

Tomorrow, as you ride your bike, run your 6 miles, lift weights at the gym, or stretch (and enjoy a great margarita), put these thoughts through your mind. Ask yourself the tough questions - see if you don't train a little harder, or put a little more effort into your fundraising bid. For if you have honest answers to your own questions (and mine, I suppose), your experience will be that much richer, more genuine.