How do you measure time? Is it in experiences or people, successes or failures, or is it pages in a calendar or in iCal. This past year, I’ve been measuring time in a lot of firsts and lasts, and it's been challenging.
Right now, I’m constantly aware that the first anniversary of my mom’s first hospital visit is just days away. March 29, 2025, I got a call from Jana, my sister, that she was taking my mom to the ER. Mom's friends had been concerned the day before because she kept dropping her Mahjong tiles, and she had fallen a few times in the last week. The hospital found nothing conclusive, and she was to follow up with her internist to start delving into what may be going on. Nearly three weeks later, after many tests, emails, and blood work, there were still no clear answers. My mom had lost use of her right hand, was struggling to walk, and was staying at Jana’s house. We had a CT scan scheduled in 2 days, but Jana said she didn’t want to wait; the deterioration was happening fast before her eyes. I told Jana to trust her gut and take mom to a different ER. Within a few hours, I was headed north on the 405; they had found a tumor in her brain.
It was the next day that we met with neuro-oncology, when we were told they believed it was a glioblastoma. I was shocked. I knew this aggressive cancerous brain tumor. I had been doing fundraising for cancer with Tour de Pier for over a decade. Mandy’s brother, Kory Hunter, had died of glioblastoma after fighting for over 2 years.
The next day, we met with 2 surgeons at 2 different hospitals, and we needed to start making decisions immediately. The impact on our lives and the speed with which everything happened was mind-bending. Mom had surgery a week later, and it was hurdle after hurdle every day. The tumor was growing at an alarming speed. My mom, Louise Conley, died less than 2 months later.
I’m not the only family member who has struggled and measured time the way I have in the past year. Jana and I worked in lock step. I have friends and contacts that supported me, but cancer is debilitating and indiscriminate to both its patients and their families. The only way to make a difference is to raise money for research and outreach to help support those affected by cancer.
I have been at Tour de Pier since it started in 2013. The inaugural event was the day after Kory died. Yearly, we ride sharing tears and stories as we raise money funding 3 local charities: The Hirschberg Foundation, Uncle Kory Foundation, and the South Bay Cancer Support Group. Together, we have raised over 15 million dollars since 2013. What will I do to raise money? Well, over the years, I've done a lot of things. Ask, of course, pound the pavement doing local fundraising donations, wear a blow-up suit, and sweat on PCH to attract attention. This year, in honor of my mom and her love of Mahjong, I’m teaching lessons. She taught my whole family, and I can teach you. I'm simply asking for a donation to Tour de Pier.
This year, I’ll be riding on stage in the Uncle Kory Hour on May 17 in honor of my mom, Louise Ann Conley. Please support the event as you can with money, prayers, or come down to the pier and join us. Tour de Pier is a great day to celebrate the lives we have been gifted and honor those who are no longer with us.
