Pink-tober

Hi warriors! I wanted to share a post with you all but it’s on a different platform. It’s all about my time with Project Koru. The update is located under the “Fundraiser Updates” section and titled “Finding Koru.”

Please head on over HERE to read all about it! And as always….have a magical day. <3

Below you’ll find the first part that was originally posted to my fundraising page for Project Koru seen above.

When I walked into the vendor/exhibition hall at Cancer Con 2022, one of the first tables I encountered was of a group called Project Koru. At the table sat a group of super chill, peaceful, and tan humans—surfer folk. Seeing surfer folk in Minnesota was quite striking and instantly caught my eye. I’ve always wanted to be part of surfer folk, but the opportunity had never presented itself while living in Nebraska my whole life.

I walked up to the table intrigued as a woman said, ”Aloha. I’m Vi. Do you know about Project Koru?”

“What an interesting name!” I thought to myself. Then, out loud, “No, I don’t know about it. What is it?”

Vi explained that it was a camp where cancer survivors come and learn to surf. As Vi told me more about Project Koru (PK), she was met by a steady stream of people, (each with just as unique names) who were excited about the joyous reunions. There were many hugs and stories told. Vi introduced each camper—”this is (insert unique name here) and they went to camp #.” They would reminisce about the happenings at the camp and who they talked to last. Then someone else would appear and more sequels of delight would occur. Long beautiful embraces, tears, laughs, showing off jewelry and tattoos, discussing the latest travel… It was a beautiful sight to see. A vibe of pure love, acceptance, and peace amongst a group of obviously very interpersonally-connected people. While watching it all happen around me, I knew I wanted to be a part of this community. Project Koru quickly became my ultimate cancer camp goal. 

——————————————————————————————————

Once I returned to Nebraska, I applied to the camp right away. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. No golden ticket came for me. While I kept waiting, I would see camps happening on their social media. I applied again. Waited again. More waiting. Still nothing. I went to a different cancer camp with a different organization and the connection with my peers was not there. I got discouraged. Maybe I don’t belong in this community? 

It was March of 2023 when I got finally an email from Project Koru!! There was a last minute cancellation and I could join a camp. My heart sank. No, I could not join a camp. It was the middle of the school year and no way would I be able to get a random week off of work. I was devastated, thinking I lost my chance.

I emailed back a polite, “I can not, but please keep me on the list.” And moved on. Meanwhile my cancer life ticked on. I finished some medication and started others. I attended conferences and support groups. But in the back of my mind Project Koru remained. I wanted to be one of those tanned surfers that was nowhere near the ocean, in the middle of the country, just feeling a vibe and knowing I had friends all over who felt the same. I wanted the calmness and peace to embody too. 

I sent a cold email to Project Koru. I explained I was a school nurse and was wondering when their camps would be in the fall as I was very interested, but needed to do some crafty planning to get time off work. I got a reply that there would be two camps in November and they would let me know if I was selected by the end of July. 

July came and I had surgery that left me unable to lift anything over ten pounds in my right arm for six weeks. Recovering from surgery, I’d spend hours in the hammock dreaming of being a surfer too. Every day I’d check my email, convinced I’d be getting an acceptance email at any moment. Slowly but surely, July ticked on and it was time to head back to school. I was devastated. “Again, I was looked over,” I thought to myself while heading into all things back to school. 

Students returned to the building and still no word from PK. Finally, on a random day in August 2023, I got an email from Project Koru stating I was in! I was selected to go to Project Koru camp 56 in Costa Rica for a week in November. I just had to pay for airfare. I’ve never bought an airline ticket faster. 

I started training for Costa Rica right away. I got a personal trainer and gym membership. I started learning how to do drops. I got on SHEIN and bought a surf suit. I got a travel fan, special sun screen, bug spray, and every other gadget I could maybe need. I was so excited. Then, at the end of August 2023, I got COVID. 

COVID took me out. The month of September I was useless. I ended up in the ER. I could barely make it through a whole day of work. I’d go home and just lay on the floor with our geriatric dog by my side while Mitch cooked dinner. An eventual brain MRI showed a strange spot that no one could explain. There were multiple trips to Houston to go to MD Anderson to try and figure out what was wrong, with no answers beyond, “We just don’t know.” 

I was so discouraged. How would I be able to go to Costa Rica in such a state? Surely I couldn’t learn to surf in this state. I waffled back and forth in my head. I had already taken so much time off work from being physically ill. I thought to myself then, “Did I really need to take time for my mental health as well? Koru would never let me go to a different camp if I passed up this opportunity.” I just had to suck it up and do it. 

The days ticked on, each harder than the last, while the silent battles raged on in my head and body. This internal dance brought on extreme exhaustion. I felt like I was back on chemo with the lack of energy I had. I started to outsource everything I could while continuing to attend multiple doctors appointments to figure out what was wrong and maintain a social life. “Just make it to Costa Rica,” I’d tell myself. Things will get better. 

The night before leaving on a 5AM flight to Costa Rica, I was struggling so hard. The packing list seemed so vague. I didn’t know what we would be doing or how my body would react to being in a different, more humid environment. My clothes and every travel size bag we owned littered the hallway to the bedrooms. Mitch tried to help, but I just kept saying, ‘I don’t even know babe! How do I know? What have I done? Does this match? Should I bring this? What bags will fit the most? Do you think I’m able to do this?” My insecurities flowing freely in the safety of my own home with my husband’s listening ear. Eventually, with a lot of help from Mitch, we got everything to fit in two bags I’d take on the plane. A quick sleep and I was up at 3:30AM for an adventure that would change my life forever.