I'm taking baby steps at Relay for Life

Relay for Life is here.

It's a time for celebration, honor and commitment to each other.

The mission is simple -- to find a cure.

I've been attending Relay for Life for years. I've helped build campsites, walked the caregivers' lap and hugged numerous people along the way.

We were survivors.

But all that changed in an instant.

On May 9, I wrote a blog stating how the month of May, especially May 7, touches my family's heart. When my oldest daughter was diagnosed with acute lymphnoblastic leukemia she was 9 years old. I spoke of faith, determination and the victory of defeat.

Ten days later, after a routine gallbladder surgery on May 17, she was diagnosed with cervical cancer. That marks 10 years after her first diagnosis. Ten years cancer free. Ten years of learning to live again.

As I sit and write this update, tears run down my face. My body is aching, knowing that I will soon have to face the many faces of survivors and caregivers.

All I can say is, I'm struggling. I'm angry and I don't feel like Relaying.

I don't know if I can walk the caregivers' lap. I don't know if I can handle seeing the survivors take their walks of glory and I don't know if I can handle being in the crowd.

Relay has taken on a new meaning this year.

I'm saddened that my daughter has to endure another round of cancer. I'm saddened that she, at the tender age of 19, has to think of the ultimate expense, and I'm saddened that she was ready to start a new life.

Now, all that has to wait.

Our focus these past few days is based on being a victim -- a victim to this ugly disease that takes the lives of so many, a victim to the grueling ups and downs of lab results, operations and long nights.

A victim to something we cannot tangibly grab a hold of and shake the crud out of and tell it to leave us alone.

This is one of the things cancer does. It can destroy your mind, heart and ultimately your health -- if you let it.

The Arellanos have a new road to travel. It's a swerving road that brings us back and forth and up and down. It's a road we've traveled before and with success.

The only difference to this year's new adventure is getting started.

I've got to pick up my head, be strong and face the struggles head on.

I'm going to be at Relay for Life this year. I might not stay long, I know I won't stop crying, I don't know how many hugs I can give out, but I'm going to be there.

It's a perfect place to start -- again.