My "drafts" folder was bursting at the cyber-seams and upon sorting through and deleting posts, I found this post I'd written back in March but never posted. With the Tour de France wrapping up, and last week marking the 1 year anniversary of Luke's orchiectomy, I found it especially poignant when I reread it today. Not sure what lead me to write it or what lead me not to post it, maybe it was just meant for today.
I'm not really into "celebrity." Don't get me wrong, I love to thumb through a People magazine as much as the next gal, but I've never joined a fan club or followed a particular musician, actor or athlete enough to know much beyond what you'll find written in, well, a People magazine. However, I thought that might change in regards to one particular athlete, Lance Armstrong. I was even considering writing him a letter. Did you know our sons share the same name? Luke David. But that isn't really why he'd captured my attention.
My Luke David suffered from a severe testicular infection when he was 3 years old. In 2008, it was determined the affected testicle had not survived, and would need to be removed. So last July, my Luke became connected to Lance Armstrong in yet another way, as a fellow orchiectomy patient. Lance's battle with testicular cancer lead to a bilateral orchiectomy, whereas, thankfully, my Luke has one healthy testicle remaining. But the loss will no doubt be significant to Luke when he's old enough to understand. Because of Luke's love of sports, bike riding, and his natural athleticism, I've always kept the little bit I know about Lance Armstrong tucked in my back pocket. My thought was if, or more likely, when, Luke begins to struggle with his loss, I'd be able to use Lance's perseverance, success, and, quite honestly, his ability to continually win the affections of beautiful women (which might be important to a fella!?!), as an encouragement to my little guy. Testicular loss is not something that men are open about, at all, and so I can honestly say, I don't know any other man, young or old, that is in my son's shoes. I know they're out there, I just don't know them, and it's not exactly something I can ask around about. And that's why I was clinging to Lance Armstrong. Someone, anyone, for my little guy to look to and say, I am not alone.
So here's to ya for bursting my bubble, Google. I decided to surf the net to learn a little more about good ol' Lance. Of course, his remarkable Tour de France victories top the search results, followed by his inspiring testicular cancer battle, and contributions to the awareness of testicular cancer and research...all very admirable components of Mr. Armstrong's life. But then another word popped up: atheist. First, let me say, I am not making a call one way or another as to his spirituality, or lack there of. That's not for me, google, or anyone else to discern, and I have not heard with my own ears or seen with my own eyes any discussion on the subject. So recognizing the fragility of information gleaned from the internet alone, I still felt the word "atheist" was used in enough information on Lance to at least cause concern on my behalf. Most of what I read said Lance does not support organized religion, and I don't in any way equate an opposition to organized religion to lack of belief in God. Religion is not God. But several sites also attribute Lance to a 2004 quote in ET magazine saying "If there was a god, I'd still have both my ... (insert slang for testicles)" Hmmm, that's a bothersome comment from my son's would be role model.
There is a construction paper die-cut of a bat (think Halloween, not baseball) on our refrigerator. It's been hanging there for almost two years, the paper has faded from crisp black to a dingy brown. Luke made it in preschool; it has the words "I trust in God and am not afraid" typed on a white label in the center. The night after Luke's surgery, he slept downstairs with me. As we settled into bed, I began to ask him questions about his experience. I asked him if he was scared when they rolled him into the operating room and he said, "No, I just thought about my bat and knew Jesus was with me."
I still admire Lance's amazing physical feats and endurance. He has proven a man's a strength, worth, and abilities are in no way tied to his anatomy. I greatly value that lesson. I want Luke to have a confidence in knowing his strength, worth and ability were not lost to an -ectomy. But, more than that, I want him to know where, or Who, the greatness inside him does come from, and it seems that Mr. Armstrong may be unsure of that himself. Maybe Lance could learn a thing or two from Luke.
I'm not really into "celebrity." Don't get me wrong, I love to thumb through a People magazine as much as the next gal, but I've never joined a fan club or followed a particular musician, actor or athlete enough to know much beyond what you'll find written in, well, a People magazine. However, I thought that might change in regards to one particular athlete, Lance Armstrong. I was even considering writing him a letter. Did you know our sons share the same name? Luke David. But that isn't really why he'd captured my attention.
My Luke David suffered from a severe testicular infection when he was 3 years old. In 2008, it was determined the affected testicle had not survived, and would need to be removed. So last July, my Luke became connected to Lance Armstrong in yet another way, as a fellow orchiectomy patient. Lance's battle with testicular cancer lead to a bilateral orchiectomy, whereas, thankfully, my Luke has one healthy testicle remaining. But the loss will no doubt be significant to Luke when he's old enough to understand. Because of Luke's love of sports, bike riding, and his natural athleticism, I've always kept the little bit I know about Lance Armstrong tucked in my back pocket. My thought was if, or more likely, when, Luke begins to struggle with his loss, I'd be able to use Lance's perseverance, success, and, quite honestly, his ability to continually win the affections of beautiful women (which might be important to a fella!?!), as an encouragement to my little guy. Testicular loss is not something that men are open about, at all, and so I can honestly say, I don't know any other man, young or old, that is in my son's shoes. I know they're out there, I just don't know them, and it's not exactly something I can ask around about. And that's why I was clinging to Lance Armstrong. Someone, anyone, for my little guy to look to and say, I am not alone.
So here's to ya for bursting my bubble, Google. I decided to surf the net to learn a little more about good ol' Lance. Of course, his remarkable Tour de France victories top the search results, followed by his inspiring testicular cancer battle, and contributions to the awareness of testicular cancer and research...all very admirable components of Mr. Armstrong's life. But then another word popped up: atheist. First, let me say, I am not making a call one way or another as to his spirituality, or lack there of. That's not for me, google, or anyone else to discern, and I have not heard with my own ears or seen with my own eyes any discussion on the subject. So recognizing the fragility of information gleaned from the internet alone, I still felt the word "atheist" was used in enough information on Lance to at least cause concern on my behalf. Most of what I read said Lance does not support organized religion, and I don't in any way equate an opposition to organized religion to lack of belief in God. Religion is not God. But several sites also attribute Lance to a 2004 quote in ET magazine saying "If there was a god, I'd still have both my ... (insert slang for testicles)" Hmmm, that's a bothersome comment from my son's would be role model.
There is a construction paper die-cut of a bat (think Halloween, not baseball) on our refrigerator. It's been hanging there for almost two years, the paper has faded from crisp black to a dingy brown. Luke made it in preschool; it has the words "I trust in God and am not afraid" typed on a white label in the center. The night after Luke's surgery, he slept downstairs with me. As we settled into bed, I began to ask him questions about his experience. I asked him if he was scared when they rolled him into the operating room and he said, "No, I just thought about my bat and knew Jesus was with me."
I still admire Lance's amazing physical feats and endurance. He has proven a man's a strength, worth, and abilities are in no way tied to his anatomy. I greatly value that lesson. I want Luke to have a confidence in knowing his strength, worth and ability were not lost to an -ectomy. But, more than that, I want him to know where, or Who, the greatness inside him does come from, and it seems that Mr. Armstrong may be unsure of that himself. Maybe Lance could learn a thing or two from Luke.
