It might seem like a simple thing. Perhaps even an easy thing. When you break it down, it is not simple or easy, but it is so important.
“Please don’t edit for me.”
That was Kathy Brawn’s biggest request of her group of 18-22-year-old soccer players at Colgate University. Kathy is a coach. Her sport is life. Her team, her staff—they are family.
Maybe it is the way of coaches – the ability to set a goal, engineer a plan, and stay focused on the end result. Maybe, in this case, it was a survival instinct kicking into overdrive. Whatever the case, when Kathy was diagnosed with breast cancer, she pushed worry aside and focused on her treatments and the goal—beating cancer.
But there was one concern. Her team.
How would they respond? It wasn’t a question of how they would perform on the field, the question was bigger. How would their coach’s battle with cancer impact their young lives? As it turns out, many of them were already too familiar with cancer. Now this.
Thus, her request, “Please don’t edit for me.”
Kathy met with her team, stating her request. She provided the example that 3 days prior, a player had asked her to write a recommendation. She happily wrote the letter. She explained that she hoped that 3 days later, after the news of her cancer, her players would still make such requests. After all, she had cancer when she wrote the first letter. Why wouldn’t she write another, and another?
Bottom line, she did not want life to change. Even more importantly, she did not want the people she loved the most to change. She wanted to be given the option to be normal. If she had to take things a bit slower, that would be her decision.
It is a simple request, but one alludes so many of the “helpful.” It seems many survivors, in the midst of an uncertain journey, desire normalcy. For those eager to provide support, the tendency is to edit.
Editing is the problem with cancer. Too often, it is the editor of lives – making unwelcome, uninvited changes. Usually right when the story was getting good.
Kathy, like Coach Yow, considers herself fortunate to have been able to continue coaching, continue living a full life, even in the midst of adversity. Her family, friends, neighbors, her staff, Alyssa Manoogian (Colgate ’13) and Jenna Gibney (Colgate ’15) provided the best kind of support. The unedited, unabridged kind that lets the author make decisions.
Their support was the variable that allowed Kathy to continue her journey, not deviating from the life she loved.
Cancer does change us. It changes all of us — the person with the cancer and the loved ones who want so desperately to help. We continue to rally in support of one another until the time when we can celebrate that cancer has officially been edited out of our story.
To donate to the Kay Yow Cancer Fund, click here.