There were more than 45,000 participants in Saturday's Race for the Cure, but I don't know how many of us were wearing the pink shirts of survivors. Whatever the number, there were so many others it was both a comfort to have company and a sad commentary on the need for a cure.
Out of the throng, there was suddenly the face of a friend joining me in the survivors' lane at the finish line. As we made our way forward to collect our pink roses and survivors' medallions on pink ribbons, well-meaning strangers applauded and cheered.
One person called out, "Congratulations," and my friend smiled ruefully. None of us wanted to be wearing pink shirts in the first place. We would have preferred to cross the finish line with the thousands of anonymous supporters of the cause. But if we had to meet cancer head on in the first place, it was better to be in the ranks of survivors.
It reminded me of an observation offered by another friend recently in my golf league. As she commiserated with me over my double dose of cancer, she commented, "You are very unlucky and very lucky all at the same time."
The lucky part is not just having survived. Part of the good fortune is in how my life has been enriched by the filter that comes with facing a serious challenge. Cancer puts life's meaning in sharper focus and deepens the colors of what is important. Pink is not a bad color to be.
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