Our field reporter Danielle Offman went out to talk to Lindsay Johnson, one of the committee members about how they are going to accomplish these goals. (Play danis 3 questions)

Thank you Danielle and now we go out to Anna Clements who is actually interviewing a Cancer Survivor who also happens to be her mom J (play rest of media file)

Thank you Anna and that concludes our broadcast today. We hope you’ve learned some new fun facts about Relay and are as excited as we are for this years event. Until tomorrow this is your host Colleen signing off.

 Presentation relay

Just start thepower point to hear the presentation

There is always so much food it is hard to know what will brak the diet, what is healthy, and what will satisfy not only your stomach, but your eyes.  We all know how hard it is to sometimes satisfy your eyes, food especially when everything you see is delicious and oh so tempting and are want food that is way over your actual appetite.

Don’t worry healthy eaters and dieters, the holidays don’t mean you will have to unbutton your pants button or feel the bulge. I have done some research and with the help of Weight Watchers and Fittness Magazine, we will guide you through your Holiday eating days.

The most important thing to remember is that food is not the enemy. All food has benefits. So let’s take a look at the holiday menu and the benefits some of the favorite items that are passed around the table.

Turkey is a great source of protein, vitamin B, zinc, and potassium. It keeps blood pressure low and protects against cancer and heart disease. Just remember not to deep fry or drench this wonderful food in gravy, the benefits are fried and drowned with those serving techniques.

Roasted sweet potatoes are filled with fiber, vitamin A, and potassium. They also contain phytochemicals which help us defend ourselves from the signs of aging, cancer, and arthritis. PLUS they are very filling

Stuffing cooked in chicken broth and with nuts, celery, carrots, and dried fruit substituted in can be a great source of fiber and vitamins.

Red wine, the dryer the better, is filled with antioxidants, but high in calories (5 oz.=100 calories). So ask for a “spritzer” (1/2 wine and ½ calorie free seltzer water) to elliminate some of the calories but still be satisfied with wine.

These are just some of the holiday food favorites, but there are many more. If you are tempted to eat it all don’t be afraid to sample. Sample size portions allow you to have all the food you eyes see and crave, but not be to stuffed by the end of your meal.

Most importantly don’t deprive yourself from anything; in the end you will end up indulging in more by trying to substitute your craving. Try to go into the Holiday feasts with a plan of what you are going to eat. By choosing foods that are special to the holiday, or “once-a-year,” foods can help decide what to eat.  Breaks in between dinner and desert can also help your stomach settle and tell you if and when yoe are ready for dessert.

In the end don’t forget the food is not in control—you are in control of what you eat. The Holidays are a time to spend with family and friends, don’t let a diet get in the way of a happy and positive time of the year.

Happy Holidays and Bon appétit!!!

This is how my Thanksgiving Dinner event with my family yesterday went, what we ate and activities we did together.

3:00 My family and I arrive to our Thanksgiving Day destination

3:30 eat appetizers including vegetables, shrimp, and crab cakes

4:15 DINNER is served.

                Menu includes: Turkey, Italian green beans, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, collard greens, corn pudding, sweet potato biscuits, Italian bread, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

5 Clean up

5:15 family plays Banana grams and Apples to Apples

5:30 Prep for dessert

5: 45 Dessert is served.

                Menu includes: Pumpkin Pie, Pecan Pie, and Chocolate Bread Pudding with Peanut Butter sauce

6 Family socializes, continues playing board games, watching football, and playing video games

7:30 My family and I head home, pleasantly stuffed, and ready for bed.

Allergies.

Ana is allergic to a lot of things, but her major allergy is to dairy. I never realized that dairy is in a vast majority of my meals, whether it be a cup of milk, a cup of yogurt, cheese on my burger, and so on.  If any food product so much as touches milk Ana could have a possible fatal reaction. I really did not want this to occur, at all.  I certainly need her around and I definitely wanted her to come down and enjoy her stay not worrying about her allergy.

I washed every plate, pan, utensil, and cup that Ana might use, as a precautionary measure in case any dairy product previously in the item. I got eggs and special bread for our breakfast and checked with her if it all was “Ana friendly” as I came to call it. I wanted her stay to be worry free for her and I was determined to make it so.

Growing up with Ana it was never really my worry about her food allergy; the older adults did the cooking and were very cautious when making her food that it eventually over the years became second nature. Yet, being at college, with limited funds, I was in a panic to find snack food that Ana would enjoy and love.

All my worrying was not necessary, because Ana being an adult and having lived with the allergy all her life, she knows what she can and cannot eat, knows what to look for, and can without doubt take care of herself.  This weekend went wonderful. No allergy attack in sight, my uncle ended up making homemade cinnamon buns which accompanied our morning sunny side up eggs.  And water was a good enough drink for her and is my favorite. So all together the weekend went smoothly.

My aunt told me about the magazine, Living Without, a magazine mostly focused on gluten and dairy allergies. This is what the magazine is all about:

“Living Without wants you to know that a life with allergies, intolerances and sensitivities can be a vibrant, healthy and happy life. Let this magazine help you open the door to living abundantly with your special needs. LIving Without isn’t about minimizing the challenges of living with allergies and intolerances. It’s about presenting the important truth of how good life can be, Living Without.” 

Next time I might make my own little breakfast dish just for Ana. In fact, I think I may begin Living Without myself, just to see how it feels to be in Ana’s shoes. It can’t be easy, but she sure makes it look that way.

Check out Living Without magazine at http://www.livingwithout.com/allergy-articles.html

My younger sister donated her beautiful long hair to Pantene Pro V Beautiful Lengths program about two years ago.  It was around the time my mom was diagnosed with cancer and had just begun loosing her hair. My mom had purchased a wig, which she never ended up wearing, but that is besides the point. My younger sister felt she needed to contribute to the cancer fight and donated 8 inches of her hair, which inspired me to grow my, then short hair long and donate it.

I grew my hair for two years, and at the longest point it was halfway down my back. I wanted a drastic change and figured it would be perfect now to donate my hair.  At least ten inches is the requirement for “Locks of Love,” but eight inches is the requirement for “Beautiful Lengths.” I went with the Beautiful Lenghts program because I only had about eight inches to donate without cutting all my hair off and since my younger sister donated there I thought it would be neat to keep the tradition.

My good friend, Robin, also donated her hair too.  Now her hair is ten inches shorter and now to her shoulders. “Locks of Love” and “Beautiful Lengths” sure have a lot of hair now to deal with.

To check out more about the Pantene Pro V Beatiful Lengths program check out their website at: http://www.pantene.com/en-US/beautiful_lengths.jspx

   I have already mentions that in the summer of 2007, my mom went from an average woman to a breast cancer patient.  In one summer my family was flipped upside down.  That summer nothing else mattered but to help make mom get better.  It my family’s the main goal to have her rejoin and enjoy life once more and to take back what cancer stole from her.  

   Because of my mom’s battle with breast cancer, the color pink will never be the same for me. Not after watching my mother experience, with going through a double mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiation.  I watched as her already thin frame shrank.  Her clothes gripping to her bones, attempting to hold on to my mom, but she inevitably was shrinking. She began wearing a baseball cap all the time. The night I asked her why she was wearing her cap all the time.  I watched as sadness crept over her fatigued face as she removed her baseball cap. I stood helpless as I watched her point to her balding head–her already short hair failing out. I watched as she wept as she plucked short black hairs from the shoulders of her t-shirt. Hot tears rolled down my check as I embraced my mother’s frail weeping body. That is a memory, I should say nightmare,  forever etched in my brain.

   That summer, because of chemotherapy my mother wasn’t able to leave her bed most chemo treatment days.  I would perch myself at the edge of her bed, careful not to disturb her and I gaze at the woman who was sick twice in my childhood, lay prisoner in her bed unable to function properly, all because of chemotherapy. Our conversations were brief as she was unable to stay awake long or have enough energy to talk long. 

   My mother was a normal, healthy, 47 year old woman when cancer ambushed her and turned my mom from a normal a normal wife, mother, daughter, sister, nurse—into a cancer patient.  A lifelong patient.

   Breast Cancer did this to my mom and she is not alone. 

   According to the Susan G. Komen website (Susan G. Komen for the Cure is the current global leader of the breast cancer movement), about 192,370 new cases of breast cancer were speculated to be diagnosed in American women and 1,910 diagnosis new cases of male breast cancer were speculated for 2009.

   Pink is no longer just a color.  Pink, every shade of Pink is a reminder of not only the battle my mom fought, it is a reminder of all the women and men diagnosed who fought and won their war. It is a reminder to remember those who lost their fight.  It is a reminder to hope and to have faith.  It is a reminder to continue to protect themselves through early detection, by either self-breast examinations or regular doctor appointments.  

   Don’t let Breast Cancer Awareness end in October. Don’t forget what the true meaning of pink has become.

It all began the summer of 2007. Dinner at my house has always been a family affair.  All six of us gather around the dining room table to eat, talk about our day, discuss plans for the following week, ask questions, etc.  It has been a time set aside, every day, for all of us to come together and simply be together.  This dinner began like any other, but ended with an unwanted twist that would inevitably change our family forever.

At the end of our meal, my mom told my three sisters and myself she just went in for a regular check-up at the doctors, where the doctor found a suspicious lump in her breast and she needed a biopsy.  My two younger sisters, Veronica and Felicia, asked in confusion what a biopsy was. My mom tried to explain positively by stating a biopsy was routine for finding suspicious matter.  My older sister, Maria, and I questioned further when the little ones left the table.  We knew, if you needed a biopsy there is a fifty percent chance that the lump is just a lump and everything is fine, but there is also the other fifty percent that meant it was malignant.  We all prayed for the latter.  No one wants a family member to be diagnosed with any disease.  No one wants their mother to be diagnosed with cancer.  

A week later, I was leaving my work as a lifeguard to babysit a little boy, Chase.  When I arrived, Chase was taking nap and I decided to call my dad.  This was nothing out of the ordinary, being seventeen at the time and recently in a car accident, it was an unsaid rule that I was to call when I went out driving to call my parents when I had reached my destination safely.   After I told my dad that I had arrived, he bluntly said, “Anna, your mom has breast cancer.”  Why he told me then, I do not know.  Why he told be bluntly, I will never know.  Perhaps it is because my father doesn’t sugar coat facts, no matter how harsh they may be.  Perhaps he knew there was no easy way to tell me, and there was no use in prolonging telling me until I arrived home.  Perhaps he didn’t want to tell me face to face.  Maybe he didn’t want to see me cry, or have my little sisters see me cry, or my mom see me cry.  I will never know for sure, it is probably a combination of it all. Nevertheless there is no easy way to say someone, that someone you love has cancer.    

I remember everything about that moment he told me.  How I burst out crying.  How my hand felt gripping the cold counter top.  How fast my tears starting trickling down my cheeks.  How breathing became foreign and how many terrible thoughts came stampeding through my mind.  My dad seemed to hear my tears and said, “Anna, you need to calm down, concentrate on Chase and you need to be strong for your mom.”   As soon as he said that I put myself together and knew that I could not and would not cry in front of my mom about her cancer.  She didn’t need someone thinking the worst or being pessimistic about her condition.  She needed strength, not only within herself but she needed to be surrounded by it.  That day, I felt as if the world stopped.  My mom had cancer.  My best friend had cancer and I felt as if it were my fault. 

My mom was supposed to go to the doctor a couple months before she actually went.  But she had to re-schedule because I was running in the indoor state meet for track.  Then she re-scheduled again in the spring because I had my outdoor track state meet, my high school graduation party and graduation. She was just too busy.  I know my mom re-scheduled her doctor’s appointments because of me.  I know she informed me that she wouldn’t have missed anything for the world.  That going to her regular check-up late allowed her to see me break an indoor state record, win the outdoor state title, and walk across the stage of my graduation, and a lot more.  She said that it allowed her to be with not only me during my senior year of high school, but enjoying it all and more with my dad and sisters, being chemo free.   Even though she told me this, if it weren’t for me and my activities the cancer could have been caught sooner and it wouldn’t have been as advanced.  I felt selfish for keeping her from her health.   

At first, the doctors diagnosed my mom with stage one breast cancer.  My mom stayed positive, saying “If you have breast cancer, this is the stage to have.”  It is the least aggressive form, and usually the malignant form can be removed with a lumpectomy procedure.  My mother didn’t want just a lumpectomy.  She didn’t want this cancer to ever return and she decided as soon as she found out she had breast cancer to have a double mastectomy. 

The date of her procedure was hectic.  I kept reminding myself that it was only stage one, there was nothing to be worried about, and after this surgery it was all over.  All the worrying was unbearable, my sisters and I were beside ourselves.   The phone call following my mom’s surgery was even more unimaginable. 

“The cancer is stage three now, the cancer spread to her lymph nodes,” my dad told us.  Straight to the point, and there was no sugar coating what was to come.  The words chemotherapy and radiation became a part of our every day vocabulary within the upcoming months. My mother’s numerous doctor appointments, meant stress and worrying to my family, and the dinner table was no longer a family affair.

Days were no longer measured by minutes, but by doctor’s appointments.  My mothers’ first day of chemotherapy was on my eighteenth birthday.  The day was overshadowed by the poison that was making my mom vomit and sleep all day.  She couldn’t stand the smell of my father cooking my birthday dinner, let alone eat it.  That was the first taste of the next five months to come.

As the chemotherapy consumed her body, she fought to stay positive.  My parent’s bed was where my mom spent her days that summer.  The foot of the bed became my new seat, as I told her about my day, discussed the events of the week ahead, and sought advice from my best friend.  Our conversations wouldn’t last long, since she was tired or sometimes she would get nauseous if I smelt like my perfume or sometimes just myself.   It was difficult to understand how a drug that is supposed to “cure” her essentially was keeping her from me, but it was more difficult to understand her forgetfulness, which she now calls, “chemo brain.”  The chemo treatments left her unable to recall a lot of simple facts.  Sometimes when I talked with her she would ask me the same question numerous times at various points in our conversation.  I would just laugh because I know she couldn’t help it and it was better for her to hear me laugh about it then for her to know I was worrying about her and her forgetfulness.  But deep down it was the worst feeling to know that my mom had poison entering her body to cure her, and that cure is making her forget memories, stories, descriptions and stories I had shared with her.

I attempted to remain happy that summer, I would take my little sisters to the park to my work so they could swim and my dad wouldn’t have to take them to my mom’s appointments, but it wasn’t easy.  The only way I could not fixate on my mothers’ cancer was to not think about it.  To not think about it wasn’t easy either, when her spot at the dinner table was empty, when Veronica got sick and my mom couldn’t take care of her, and when she began wearing scarves or baseball caps everywhere.  On a day my mom felt somewhat better we were in the laundry room and I asked her why she was wearing a baseball cap inside.  She began to cry as she lifted the cap to show she was balding.  My mom’s dark brown, short retro style hair was thinning.  My eyes welled up as I went to hug her, only to begin crying as I hugged what was her already thing body, even thinner.  That was the only time I cried in front of my mom.  That was the first time I saw my mom cry about her cancer.  Maybe it hit me, maybe it hit her, but this was actually happening.  In our laundry room, my mom was vulnerable; cancer took away my mom’s strength for that moment in time. 

In a one summer, a three month span, my mom went from an average woman, to a cancer patient.  In one summer our family was flipped upside down.  In one family, in our family, nothing else mattered but to make my mom get better.  It was the main goal to have her rejoin and enjoy life once more and to take back what cancer stole from her—what was to be a year of her life.