I'm fighting both as a survivor and as someone who has too many loved ones and friends affected by cancer. 

 

At 17, at the end of my junior year of high school, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Needless to say, the shock and dismay of learning I had a life-threatening illness was only compounded by the fact that when I was asked what I was diagnosed with I had to look down at my feet and mumble the answer out of embarrassment. That feeling didn't last very long, however, because of the enormous, unshakable support I received from my family and friends as well as the doctors and nurses who were treating me. I learned that when I was fighting, everybody else was fighting with me. It occurred to me then and remains with me now that for even though I drew a tough hand I was beyond lucky to have so many wonderful people to hold me up when I couldn't do it myself.

 

Perhaps because of my own experience, I feel a deep sense of outrage and frustration every time I learn that someone close to me has to fight cancer themselves or that they've lost someone they love to the disease. But along with that frustration is a feeling of determination that we can always do something. We can be there to listen, to learn, to offer a welcome distraction or sometimes just to bring a box of tissues and give a hug. Or, in this instance, we can get in the ring and have a fight to raise money to build awareness, to treat patients and to look for a cure.

 

While I'm fighting for everyone I know who has been touched directly or indirectly by cancer, the money raised from this fight will go to The Valerie Fund, a truly extraordinary organization that provides critical services for children with cancer and their families. I was treated by The Valerie Fund when I was sick as a kid and I'm proud to now be the Vice Chairman of the Board of Trustees and to bring more money and awareness to their mission through this fight.