I’d do anything if I could change what I’m doing on October 18. I wish it was going to be just another run-of-the mill day. A day of puttering about, and not getting much of anything done. Nothing special. Nothing memorable. Nothing painful.
Cammy Robinson would have been 46 years old this year. She probably would be married, and maybe sending her children off to school. Her parents might be heading over to watch the football game at her house, or even babysitting for her. Her brother might be texting her about coming to see him for a visit. Her cousins would undoubtedly be in touch about her weekend plans.
Instead, they are all congregating at Coolidge Park to walk in her memory. Without her.
I know all of Cammy’s people, her family and friends, would give anything not to be getting up early and lacing up their tennis shoes in a couple of weeks. People coming out to offer their support, and fight this disease, wish this was not something they need to do. But the idea of her death being in vain is not an option.
Cammy Robinson had blond hair and almond-shaped eyes the color of the sea. She was inquisitive and loving and delightful. She was fascinated by lady bugs, and she had a sharp, quick wit. She was a beautiful girl. But, as a little girl, she was not skinny.
In junior high, she was suddenly not included in her clique. High school is tough enough, but she felt completely alone. She ate to feel better. For comfort.
She got heavier. Her senior year, she wasn’t asked to the prom. She believed it was because of her weight, and she decided to do something about it. In college, she began purging, or making herself throw up after eating. And then she barely ate enough to sustain herself. And then she would overeat and purge, in the thick of a vicious cycle.
She was thin when she came home from College of Charleston for Thanksgiving. She had cheekbones, and tiny jeans. You look great! Ooooh, you’re so thin! Keep it up! We all said these things to her. Repeatedly. We didn’t know.
This process of purging and overeating and starvation, all in the name of losing weight, affected her electrolytes. Electrolytes control the heart, causing it to beat regularly, and hers were off kilter because of the eating disorder.
Her junior year in college, when she should have been deciding what fraternity party to go to or what she was going to do for fun that weekend or what outfit she should wear, Cammy Robinson went into cardiac arrest.
Anorexia and bulimia are insidious. Unlike an infectious disease, or cancer, there’s no medicine to cure it. Unlike alcoholism, there’s no abstinence from eating. Food is something we must consume.
Cammy Robinson’s heart stopped beating for the last time when she was 26 years old. It had sustained too much damage from the ravages of the eating disorders.
Her parents wish they’d been more educated about it. They wish they could have seen it coming when she still had a chance. They know now that the earlier an eating disorder is diagnosed and treated, the better the chance of survival.
The MCR Foundation, founded by Jan Robinson, Cammy’s mother, and Ashley Yates, Cammy’s best friend, provides resources for people affected by eating disorders. Education and early intervention are so important, and for 20 years, the MCR Foundation has been making a difference. Doing good.
Still. I know her family wishes it never existed.
Please join the 20th annual 5K Walk/Run for Cammy’s Cause on Saturday, October 18, at Ross’s Landing. Check in/registration opens and 7:30 a.m. with the race beginning at 8:30 a.m. Kid-friendly, the bounce house, face paint, costume contest (for kids of all ages) and a mutt strut, Cammy’s Cause is not to be missed!
Learn more at www.mcrfoundation.com.
by Ferris Robinson
Cammy Robinson would have been 46 years old this year. She probably would be married, and maybe sending her children off to school. Her parents might be heading over to watch the football game at her house, or even babysitting for her. Her brother might be texting her about coming to see him for a visit. Her cousins would undoubtedly be in touch about her weekend plans.
Instead, they are all congregating at Coolidge Park to walk in her memory. Without her.
I know all of Cammy’s people, her family and friends, would give anything not to be getting up early and lacing up their tennis shoes in a couple of weeks. People coming out to offer their support, and fight this disease, wish this was not something they need to do. But the idea of her death being in vain is not an option.
Cammy Robinson had blond hair and almond-shaped eyes the color of the sea. She was inquisitive and loving and delightful. She was fascinated by lady bugs, and she had a sharp, quick wit. She was a beautiful girl. But, as a little girl, she was not skinny.
In junior high, she was suddenly not included in her clique. High school is tough enough, but she felt completely alone. She ate to feel better. For comfort.
She got heavier. Her senior year, she wasn’t asked to the prom. She believed it was because of her weight, and she decided to do something about it. In college, she began purging, or making herself throw up after eating. And then she barely ate enough to sustain herself. And then she would overeat and purge, in the thick of a vicious cycle.
She was thin when she came home from College of Charleston for Thanksgiving. She had cheekbones, and tiny jeans. You look great! Ooooh, you’re so thin! Keep it up! We all said these things to her. Repeatedly. We didn’t know.
This process of purging and overeating and starvation, all in the name of losing weight, affected her electrolytes. Electrolytes control the heart, causing it to beat regularly, and hers were off kilter because of the eating disorder.
Her junior year in college, when she should have been deciding what fraternity party to go to or what she was going to do for fun that weekend or what outfit she should wear, Cammy Robinson went into cardiac arrest.
Anorexia and bulimia are insidious. Unlike an infectious disease, or cancer, there’s no medicine to cure it. Unlike alcoholism, there’s no abstinence from eating. Food is something we must consume.
Cammy Robinson’s heart stopped beating for the last time when she was 26 years old. It had sustained too much damage from the ravages of the eating disorders.
Her parents wish they’d been more educated about it. They wish they could have seen it coming when she still had a chance. They know now that the earlier an eating disorder is diagnosed and treated, the better the chance of survival.
The MCR Foundation, founded by Jan Robinson, Cammy’s mother, and Ashley Yates, Cammy’s best friend, provides resources for people affected by eating disorders. Education and early intervention are so important, and for 20 years, the MCR Foundation has been making a difference. Doing good.
Still. I know her family wishes it never existed.
Please join the 20th annual 5K Walk/Run for Cammy’s Cause on Saturday, October 18, at Ross’s Landing. Check in/registration opens and 7:30 a.m. with the race beginning at 8:30 a.m. Kid-friendly, the bounce house, face paint, costume contest (for kids of all ages) and a mutt strut, Cammy’s Cause is not to be missed!
Learn more at www.mcrfoundation.com.
by Ferris Robinson
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