Tricia Hernandez before a race

During the holidays in 2001, I received a red canvas bound journal with a Chinese character for “Luck” on it. Not having journaled for years, I tucked it into my nightstand drawer and gave it little thought until July of the following year. 2002 was shaping up to be an exciting year.

I was offered a job I knew I would enjoy and my partner, Kelley, and I began discussing plans to start a family. We spent a week that summer in the Keys and I celebrated my 31st birthday swimming with dolphins.

In July, I made a rare appointment with my doctor to check a lump in my neck that would not go away. He asked me about a minor cough that had been nagging me for a few weeks and recommended a chest X-ray that was completed immediately.

When he returned to the room with the film in hand, his face was serious. He showed me a butterfly-shaped white area close to my lungs, but referred me for further testing. I left the office frightened and confused.

After sitting in my car for a moment, I began to weep. I immediately called Kelley and she told me everything would be OK. I was referred to a pulmonologist and a surgeon. That evening I pulled the red Luck journal out of my nightstand and I began to write.

I had an appointment July 23 with the surgeon who kept us waiting for what felt like forever and eventually returned using phrases like “very concerned,” CT scan, and possibly lymphoma. The surgeon kept us waiting again while he talked with an oncologist. With her arms wrapped around me, Kelley asked me what an oncologist was. I broke down in tears and said, “A cancer doctor.”

I went to an appointment with the pulmonologist who performed a series of tests and a lung biopsy. I had never had this much medical attention in my adult life.

A week later, the results of the lung biopsy were non-diagnostic. We revisited the surgeon and I was scheduled for a biopsy of the lymph node on my neck.

Another week where Kel and I had no answers and feared the worst. We were tired.

In August, we met friends for lunch who were planning to run a marathon with Team in Training for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It sounded like an amazing thing to do.

Since we still had no diagnosis, we did not share with our friends our recent experiences and the fact that I might have lymphoma.

During that week, I had my biopsy. On Aug. 11, 2002, at 11:45 a.m., I received a call from the surgeon’s office. I was driving and they askied me to pull my car to the side of the. I was told I have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma — cancer. I couldn’t really speak for a moment.

The next few days brought bouts of uncontrollable crying and leaning on Kelley to be my rock. She held me when I needed it and dried my tears. Despite her own exhaustion, her energy to care for me never wavered.

The week of Aug. 26 brought tests, including a bone marrow test, to determine the stage of my cancer. It also was my first week of chemotherapy.

I had previously written in my journal that my hope for luck would be that I would not be diagnosed with cancer. Like the journal could somehow change my path. The reality is that I did find my luck. It was around me all the time, in the support of Kelley, my friends, my work and my family. My life was filled with love and compassion and I could not feel luckier.

I had chemo treatments every two weeks for six months. My oncologist was very optimistic about the treatment regimen. The chemo room was large and sterile. It was filled with vinyl recliners seating people all older than me. I spent hours in the chair as four bags of chemicals were pumped through my body.

Initially, the side effects were minimal. Weeks later, I was constantly nauseous and felt as though I was not present much of the time. I lost enough hair to prompt me to have Kel shave my head. We celebrated our 12th anniversary during this time. I wish I could have given her half as much as she had given me.

I followed up the chemotherapy treatments with radiation treatments five days a week for a few weeks.

In May 2003, I received the best birthday present. My CT scan showed I was cancer free. In December, my oncologist proclaimed I was cured.

Kelley and I could finally celebrate. Our life resumed a normal pace and my body eventually caught up. I returned to the oncologist regularly for scans to ensure the cancer had not returned.

A couple of years later, with a new job and a new outlook, I started thinking again about having a child. With a whole lot of luck, Kelley and I welcomed our beautiful and amazing son, Connor, into our lives. I learn new things about myself every day because of him. I try not to take a single day for granted.

In 2009, I decided to try Team in Training as my friends had years before. Having never run a single race before, I finished the Marine Corps marathon and have gone on to complete four half-marathons, two sprint triathlons and a 113-mile bike ride.

I hope the money I raise can help someone else hear the words, “You are cured.”

In 2013, I will be celebrating my 10th year cancer free. I am training for two half-marathons and my first Olympic distance triathlon. Please follow my training and help The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in its mission to end blood cancers by visiting my website.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years, but I realize how lucky I really am!

Tricia Hernandez and her partner, Kelley, live in Avondale Estates with their son, Connor.