AN OPEN LETTER TO MY WIFE TINA:

Dear Tina;

I'm walking because one day, in March of 2005, a terrible thought entered my head on my way home from work, and I failed to hold back the tears.

But let me backtrack. I'm actually walking because of a spot on an x-ray several years ago that proved harmless but resulted in routine annual mammograms, and because those routine mammograms resulted in another spot being detected in late 2004. I'm walking because that spot was also probably harmless, but it had to be biopsied. I'm walking because 4 out of 5 are good odds but not good enough; because one Friday morning in December of 2004 you called me at work and told me that there were micro-calcifications in your left breast, (my favorite one), a barely perceptible diagnosis that had an unavoidably huge impact on our lives.

I'm walking because of the needle biopsy and that silly paper cup they taped to your boob. The BRACA test, the endless CAT and PET scans, the hours in Doctor's waiting rooms, the six weeks of chemo, the hair loss, the weight gain, the sleepless nights, the chronic fatigue, the bone pain, the steroids, the anxiety, and the wigs. I’m walking because of the lymph node biopsy, and that creepy port in your chest, and every injection you took and because your particular strain of Breast Cancer was not resistant to medications so that there would be an easy way out. I’m walking because if I could have gone through it for you, I would have.

I'm walking because right before you were scheduled for radiation, they did another 'routine' mammogram, and discovered another little spot on your other breast, (the "good one"), which was "almost certainly nothing" but it needed to be biopsied. I'm walking because of the amazingly courageous decision you made at hearing that news; the bravest choice I ever heard anyone make. You told the doctors and I; "Screw it, take 'em off", instead of subjecting yourself to a life time of mammograms, biopsies and uncertainty. I'm walking because the day you had your bi-lateral mastectomy I told you that from behind I couldn't even tell, and that's still much more than an extremely funny joke.

I'm walking because through it all, no matter how you looked or felt, no matter how much hair you had or lost, no matter how much weight you gained or lost, no matter how much your health, appearance, and attitude changed, you could never have been more beautiful to me.

I’m walking because Breast Cancer may have taken your breasts, but it can never dull your amazingly radiant smile. It may have taken your hair, but it could never put a dent in your unflappable spirit. It may have cost you your lymph nodes, but it could never vanquish your towering optimism.

I'm walking because of the yearly scares. The spot on your liver that turned out to be nothing. The change in your lymph nodes that ended up being harmless scar tissue. The pain in your gut that led to an emergency appendectomy (two weeks before Tampa). The week long headache that (hopefully) ended up being your sinuses. I'm walking because I fret over every yearly check up and scan, and every ache, pain, cough, sneeze, shiver, or bruise makes me worry.

I'm walking for the scars that get lighter every year, the tissue expanders, the franken-boobs, and the giant fakies.

I’m walking even though it may not directly help you, but it could certainly help our four girls, and generations of young girls. I’m walking so that one day, no one else’s daughters or nieces will have to worry about this.

I’m walking because after our first walk, in Boston, 2006, you made me promise I would do this every year, with or without you. We both knew what that meant. When you took that great new job in 2011 and couldn’t join me in Tampa, I was proud to walk for you, and carried you in my heart every step of the way, but it was a somber, morose, surreal experience. I knew you were waiting for me at home, but I had a hard time NOT imagining what could have been. I felt the same way the last two years in Boston, Philly and Cleveland, and will next year in Michigan and Atlanta.

I'm walking because 240 miles in four cities, $12,500 raised, and one worn out pair of pink camo sneakers isn't enough. And because the hundreds of new friends, loved ones, and memories will be with me forever.

I’m walking because we can never let down our guard. I remember walking in 2010, you were healthy going on five years, we had raised a little bit more than we needed to and felt like we had a firm handle on this breast cancer thing. Then within weeks of getting home from Tampa, Cathy, Celeste, and Auntie Jeanette were gone. It made me realize I’m NOT doing enough. And until this shit is gone, I can NEVER do enough. That led me to commit to two walks in 2012, four walks last year, and three walks this year.

I'm walking for Bridget, like the rest of the Northeast, I miss you intensely. You'll always be Boston Strong. I'm also walking for the hundreds of other breast cancer survivors who have allowed me the honor of humbly serving them.

I’m walking for Cathy. I’ll never see that beautiful smile shining on the neighborhood from her front door again. I’m walking because she was diagnosed a year before you, and one day, she was fine, and six months later, she was gone. And I was once again left feeling helpless and unable to protect you from this. I know what she meant to you, what having someone to go through this with meant to you, and how crushing it was. I’m walking because no one should have to lose one of their best friends.

I’m also walking for Celeste. I’m certain she’s enjoying that never ending cruise. It was my honor and my duty to walk for her in four cities this year, before bringing her home to Tampa, one last time.

I’m walking because I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you about both of them.

I’m also walking for Catherine, Amberlea, Sherri, Kristina, Teresa, Sharon, Vivian, Lynne, Dianne, Karen and the thousands of other survivors directly benefit from Susan G. Komen. I’m NOT walking for some huge corporation motivated by political reasons, but rather, for the foot soldiers who no one knows who make a real difference in the lives of those affected by Breast Cancer.

I’m walking for a beautiful, bald woman carrying a poignant sign: ‘A KOMEN MAMMOGRAM SAVED MY LIFE!’, and for a tall, bald, beautiful, spiritual, and confident woman named Teresa, who we’ve spent less than an hour with, but who we feel a lifelong connection to. Like you, she completely embodies what it means to be a ‘SURVIVOR’. Also like you, kicking Breast Cancer’s ass. I have no doubt we’ll be walking with her for many years.

I’m walking for Dusty, Dylan, Graham, Rick, John, Joe, Barry, Jim, Rob and every other man we ever walked with. We know you don’t need us, but you can’t stop us.

I’m also walking for a man named Simon. I met him before I had walked a single mile in 2011. Six years ago his wife diagnosed with Breast Cancer when she was eight months pregnant. Right now, Simon’s children have no mom. I’m walking because I don’t know how to reconcile my own experiences with Simon’s, and because I don’t know what to take away from his tale. But I do know that it’s a strange mix of sorrow, anger, determination, and steely resolve. I'm also walking for a man named Greg, and hundreds of other men like Greg and Simon who continue to walk, crew, work, stalk, donate, supoort, and inspire the rest of us even though they've lost their loved ones, but are determined to keep me from losing mine.

I'm walking because a long time ago I promised myself I would protect you from harm for the rest of your life and I failed. There was nothing I could do against this and I'm sorry. I'm walking for every other man who's ever felt this way. I'm walking because as much as this bullshit disease de-feminizes women, it emasculates men. I'm walking for every person who has felt as helpless as I have for the past eight years.

I’m walking because of the superhuman attributes you’ve used to combat this ordeal, and because of the Superhero its inspired me to be. (BTW ? Its Captain 3-Day, NOT Captain 3-Minute, NOT Captain 3-Inch, Captain effin 3-DAY!)

I'm walking because shaving my head didn't help at all. Neither did quitting smoking, getting pink tattoos, drawing pretty pictures, posing naked (ick), and losing weight (then putting it back on and losing it again and putting it back on). I'm walking because walking helps: Mentally, physically, and emotionally. It helps treat the problem at its source, it keeps us active, it makes us part of a greater community, and it's an amazing morale booster. It's become one of the highlights of our year.

I’m walking for the 60 Mile Men, and your support of them (us), the support I get from them, the brotherhood we share, the exposure they give us, and the outreach they instill me with in this endless mission of mine. And for every Calendar I sold.

I’m walking for Sharon, and the amazing support she’s given us from the very beginning. It must be in the back of her mind.

I'm also walking for Joss, (maybe as much as for you), for coming to Boston with me and ROCKING the Youth Corps, and especially for spending hours sitting in front of grocery stores with us.

I'm walking as a constant reminder to the medical community to stay focused on this cause, and to the rest of the world to be sympathetic. I’m walking in spite of President Obama, the CDC, Congress, and everyone else who thinks they have the right to make determinations that could affect your health and well being, or even kill you.

I’m walking for everyone who thinks that Breast Cancer is over-funded. If you feel this way, stop on by, and I’ll be happy to introduce you to my neighbor, Cathy. Oh wait, no I won’t. She’s dead. But I can introduce you to her husband and children so you can share your opinion with them.

I'm walking for our 15th anniversary, and our 25th, and 50th. And for graduation parties, grandchildren, christenings, retirements, and everything else you shouldn't have to miss out on. I'm walking for a nice little house somewhere in the Tampa area and for everything else that still looms before us for the rest of our lives.

I’m walking for a promise you made to one of the bravest, most amazing survivors we ever met.

I'm walking because cancer sucks not just sucks, but really REALLY sucks! And because the term 'Cancer Free' is and will always be music to my ears. I'm walking because a journey of a thousand miles (or sixty) begins with a single step. When you were diagnosed I told you 'Every Step of the way?, it turns out, I meant it quite literally, and this is how I get to show it to you.

I’m walking because I just can’t lose you to this crap.

Love, Carl

AN OPEN LETTER TO EVERYONE ELSE

WE'RE walking for our eighth straight year. In 2014, between us we will have walked over 1,200 miles and hopefully have raised over $90,000.00. But we can’t do it alone. We need help, support, and encouragement. In return, you can rest assured that we will represent you and yours with pride, compassion, and lightheartedness.

Will you help us?

Will you walk with us?

Will you support us?

Carl and Tina
http://www.the3day.org/goto/PhillyCarl2014