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"I didn&amp;#039;t want to hold the white balloon, but I didn&amp;#039;t want to disappoint Katina&amp;#039;s granddaughter, either. Her family was walking with my family in the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society&amp;#039;s Light the Night Walk on Saturday night, where supporters carried red balloons and survivors carried the white ones. I&amp;#039;d have preferred to carry a gold balloon in memory of Katina, my hospital roommate, but who was I fooling? In my headscarf, I looked like a survivor. I just preferred to be a supporter. Eighty-four years-old and barely five-feet-tall, Katina often stopped her walker at the foot of my hospital bed to shake her head and say, &amp;quot;So young. So young.&amp;quot; I felt like telling her that I&amp;#039;m half her age and twice her size, so maybe I had a good shot at beating lymphoma, but I just let her shake her head and move on. She had, after all, beaten plenty of odds herself. As a young woman, Katina had left her family in Europe to come to America to make a better life. And she did. She married, raised children and surrounded herself with a loyal and loving family who visited her every day and night in the hospital. I called it &amp;quot;My Big Fat Greek Hospital Room,&amp;quot; but I didn&amp;#039;t mind the crowd. They brought me delicious Greek cookies and distracted me from my chemotherapy infusion.  A leukemia patient, Katina prayed for me every day before she passed away in July from complications due to pneumonia. So when her family invited me to the Light the Night Walk in her memory, I was more than glad to go. I just felt funny carrying the white balloon.  I used to be one of the supporters. In high school, I swam three miles every spring to raise money for the American Red Cross. I volunteered throughout college and beyond. When a neighbor lost her husband in the 9-11 terrorist attacks, I helped organize dinners for her family.  But at the walk, people supported me. My in-laws wore stickers that read, &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m walking for Jen.&amp;quot; My mom lugged my bag of waters, gloves and goodies, and my husband made sure I didn&amp;#039;t trip and take out our kids on the way down. Near the end of the two-mile walk, I felt like I had run a 10K. Maybe I needed the survivor balloon just for getting through the Light the Night Walk. As we reached the finish line, I remembered what Katina had told me on the day she left the hospital. I said, &amp;quot;I hope that someday, when I&amp;#039;m your age, I have such a wonderful family as you have.&amp;quot; She held my hand and replied, &amp;quot;You already do.&amp;quot; And she was right. My family carried their red balloons in my honor, and, finally, I was honored to carry my white balloon. Katina&amp;#039;s prayers worked: I&amp;#039;m a survivor. And I have my family and My Big Fat Greek Hospital Room to thank for all their support. Also, a mini-van filled with balloons. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a20324/good-grief-102507/>