Outrunning Cancer

I just read an amazingly inspiring story about Serena Burla, a 28 year old who ran her first marathon 10 months after being diagnosed with a rare cancer in her leg.   She not only ran the marathon, she did it in 2:37:06, qualifying her for the 2012 Olympic trials!!!  Read the full story HERE.

Stories like this remind me why we committed to fund-race.  American Cancer is one organization that hopes to run itself out of business one day!!

Carrie is running for her grandfather, "Papa"

I am running for my "Papa", William Wilson, who was diagnosed with Mesothelioma in September 1998. He lost his fight to cancer on February 1, 2000. He left behind 2 sons, 3 daughters, 15 grandchildren, and 9 great grandchildren. If he were here today, he would have 16 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren! We have a huge family, so he always knew he had lots of love!

One of my happiest memories of him when I was growing up was that he loved driving us around on his John Deere tractor! As an adult, my happiest memory of him was the cruise we took after his cancer diagnosis and before he became so sick. Looking back, I appreciate that trip even more than I did at the time. I was in college when he passed away and I remember hating to see him in such pain, especially during chemotherapy and in the later stages of his sickness. Papa was a prominent businessman in North Alabama area and is still missed by his family, many friends and business associates. His memory lives on and I am so proud to run in his memory at the 2012 Hood to Coast Relay as a Dixie Daredevil!!!

Julia is Running for Verba

After yesterday's post, I got to thinking...I believe life is a series of continuums.  What we are experiencing with losing teammates is on the very MILD side of a continuum of loss.  Whereas, losing an actual family member to cancer is well on the other side.   I, thankfully, have not had to go through that experience...unlike several of my teammates.

Julia is running for her Grandmother, Verba Troxtel, who died of cancer when Julia was only three years old.  Verba lived with Julia and her family from before the time she was born.  From what she has been told, Verba enjoyed babysitting her grandchildren when she could. 

Until colon cancer took her life at the young age of 57.

Because Julia was only three at the time, she unfortunately doesn't have many clear memories of her Grandma.  Not having clear memories doesn't lessen the loss.  Julia's grandfather, Verba's husband,  passed away long before Julia was even born and she never had a close relationship with her other set of grandparents. 

All the things kids with grandparents take for granted -baking cookies, being spoiled, hearing stories of what life was like "back in the day", learning about the roots of who you are first hand, having someone there on Grandparent's Day at school, all the memories that could have been made- were stolen from Julia by cancer.  Your donation is more than just support for a nameless, faceless organization...American Cancer Society will use your dollars to allow families have more memories.

Sarah Coleman is Running for Grandpa Stoney

(Written by Sarah Coleman)  I’m running for my Grandpa Stoney.  He was a strong, proud man and cancer took that away from him.  He taught me to never give up.  I hope that everyone out there battling cancer is lucky enough to have someone in their lives who taught them to keep fighting.

Howell R. Stone Jr. (aka Stoney) lived his life as an independent, kind, and self-sufficient man.  He came from rough beginnings.  As the only child of a fifteen year old mother in the 1920's, he spent some of his childhood in an orphanage and other times living with relatives.  He excelled in academics and sports, including football.  He joined the Army-Air Corps (USAF) to fight in World War II.  He was stationed in Europe and participated in many dangerous missions as a bombardier.  It wasn’t until a couple of months before he passed away that he ever spoke about his time in the war, though he mourned the loss of his friends who did not return home.  

Stoney was married to Rose Mary Herrick for 30 years and they had 4 children.  Stoney was a very hard worker and worked many hours at his different jobs.  He was always there for his family.  He took care of his mother in her later years and even helped take care of his ex sister-in-law when she became ill.  His hobby and pride was wood working, at which he was incredibly talented.  Stoney always worked on maintaining his health, his daily exercise was tailored after the Canadian Air Force Fitness Program.  In later years he walked many miles a day as a mail carrier for the USPS.  There were many cold and blizzard-like days that he delivered mail in Northern Colorado.  He took pride in everything he did.  He was known for neatness, his handwriting was practiced, he ironed his clothes, he kept his yard attractive and grew roses that bloomed continuously. 

He enjoyed the simple things in life.  He liked to cook soups and stews.  He enjoyed taking rides and fishing in the Colorado Mountains.  He was a quiet man and the fish liked that about him.  He always tried to excel at whatever he was doing.  There were two enemies that Stoney had to fight later in his life.  The first was a devastating stroke that prevented him from walking, talking, eating and living independently.  He was in rehabilitation for 2 years after the stroke and worked harder than any other patient.  He was easily frustrated when he couldn't find the word he wanted to say or even write his name.  He recovered enough after the stroke to return to his home. 

The second enemy was pancreatic cancer.  Pancreatic cancer has a low cure rate and it also claims its victims quickly.  Grandpa Stoney only lived six weeks after being diagnosed with cancer and passed away in the care of loved ones in a hospice facility.  Life wasn't easy for Stoney but he never gave up.  He knew it was his time to go; he didn't want to be a burden to his family.  That was Stoney, taking care of others.  He will always be missed by his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. 

Elizabeth Tierney

(Written by Sarah Tierney...)I joined this effort to honor the memory of my grandmother, Elizabeth Tierney. It’s difficult to describe the impact she had on my life in such a short space. She was always a role model for the type of woman I hope to be, and she was also a very good friend. Whenever anything
new or exciting happened to me, I couldn’t wait to call Grandma and tell her all about it because I always knew how genuinely proud and happy she would be for me. Our family visits to Pennsylvania where she lived are among my very favorite childhood memories. She loved to tell stories, share memories, laugh, and dote on her children and grandchildren. She had such a huge heart and was always so full of life and joy. Her family and friends loved her very much.


She passed away in 2005 after a diagnosis of leukemia the year before. Her passing left a huge hole in our family, but I am so grateful for all of the time I had with her and for the memories that I’ll carry forever.

Heather is Running for Poppi

(Written by Heather Armstrong)

Cancer is what we call the C-word in my family. My dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 Mantle Cell Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma about 4 years ago and it threw us all for a loop, to say the least. It was caught by his family doctor simply by him having an elevated white cell count. We were told he probably wouldn't survive but we were blessed with the best doctors at CCI that refused to treat him like any other patient. They realized he was healthier than his age and agreed to try a more aggressive type of chemotherapy on him. It was very hard on his body and we all took turns taking care of him during the treatment, including sitting by his bed as he received new blood and in the hospital as he was dangerously close to dying.

Then, the most unexpected thing happened, after the last hospitalization that nearly cost him his life, the oncologist said we were stopping treatment and would see where we were with the cancer. Everyone we knew prayed and prayed and hoped for the best. We were either going to lose him or hope for a miracle.

Then we got the test results back...it was gone, completely gone. Not one cancerous cell was in his body and it has remained that way to this day.

He was never supposed to be around to see his first and only granddaughter; he is her Poppi and she thinks he hung the moon. I am his only daughter and a Daddy's girl forever and can't express how happy I am he lived to be a grandfather.

He is an aerospace engineer here in Huntsville for the Department of Defense, married to my mother now for 43 years, has 3 children, one grandchild and is a very talented artist. Look over some of his work, it's amazing. His website is: http://www.tfmartin.com/index.html

Jenny--In Her Own Words

Casey Baird is running for her friend, Jenny.  Here's Jenny's story, in her own words:

In November of 2004, I went to the doctor for ongoing hoarseness in my voice. The doctor put me on some medicine for allergies. The medicine did not seem to help. Later, I went back to the doctor and said the medicine was not helping. The doctor then ran a camera down my throat where he found nodules on my vocal cords.

The doctor reassured me, and told me that it was definitely not cancer and I had nothing to worry about.

He put me on acid reflux medicine because he thought that was what was causing the problem. I informed him that I had never had a problem with acid reflux. He told me that some people do not even know that they have acid reflux because it occurs during sleep and erodes the esophagus causing these nodules to appear. I took his word for it; after all, I knew nothing about the medical field. The doctor wanted me to complete three months of this acid reflux medicine before he did anything further.

I was a school teacher and basketball coach at the time; therefore, this ongoing hoarseness was very difficult with my career. I began to get very frustrated because I felt that I could not complete my job to my fullest potential with this hoarseness. My students and players had a lot of trouble hearing me. I was also getting married May 28, 2005 and then the first week of June going to Cancun for our honeymoon.

The doctor decided to remove the nodules but wanted to wait to do it until we returned from our honeymoon. After returning, I went in to the hospital have the procedure done as an outpatient. It only took about 40 minutes but I was still very nervous because I had never had surgery before.
After the surgery was complete, the doctor told me everything went fine and he wanted me to be on voice rest for a week and come back in for a check-up to see how things were healing. That was a pretty hard week of no talking.

When I went back for my check-up, I went by myself. With my husband and I both being new college graduates and not being with our jobs that long, I didn’t want him to take another day off of work to go back to the doctor with me. We already had to take time off for our wedding, honeymoon, and all the other doctor appointments. After all, I thought the appointment was no big deal. I thought the doctor was just going to tell me that I could begin to talk and everything was fine.

I walked into his office and he looked at me and said, “Well I wasn’t expecting to have to tell you this today.” Right then, I knew something was wrong. The doctor proceeded to tell me that the nodules were cancerous. After that, to be honest, everything that was said was a blur.

All I remember was leaving the office, going to my car, crying, and then calling my sister. My sister was the closest to where I was and I knew that I shouldn’t be driving far with the state of mind I was in. After discovering she was home, I drove to her house. I got to the door where she greeted me, I started crying, and she knew something was wrong. She started crying and said “what is wrong?” I told her, we hugged, and she took me to where my husband was working so I could break the news to him. When we arrived and told him, he left work, and came back to my sister’s house. He then called my doctor and got some answers that I was unable to give him. He also asked for me to be referred to another doctor.

I was referred to a doctor at the Arthur James Cancer Hospital in Columbus. I met with him, and we discussed my options. I then had my first laser surgery there in July and my second surgery in October. The doctor did not want to do both surgeries at the same time because of the way the vocal cords are shaped. Scar tissue would have formed, which would not leave room for the vocal cords to vibrate and I would never talk again. He decided that it would be best to do the right side first, since it was the worse side, then the left after the right had some time to heal.

My first surgery was very rough on me and on my whole family. It took about 4 hours to complete. Then the surgery in October was a little better; it took about 3 hours. I had to go back frequently for the first 3 months for checkups.

They did not have a lot of research in the type of cancer I had. The doctor said the type of cancer I had was dominantly found in males who were 60 years of age and older and had smoked and drank most of their lives. I was only 23, and didn’t smoke or drink. However, the research they did have in my age group showed that if the cancer came back, it came back early and aggressive.

I have been cancer free since then and I am so lucky. I am only going back to the doctor for check-ups every year now. Our family has been through a lot in the short time that we have been married. I was unable to talk for 7 months after all my surgeries, which meant I could not go back to my teaching and coaching. We did not even know if I would ever be able to talk again at that point. We all looked at it like it was a small price to pay, I was alive and doing pretty well.

During all that, I found out I was pregnant and had my son August 2, 2006. He is amazing and we are so blessed. I also began to go back to college when he was about 9 months old for nursing. I figured that I may as well go back while I was still young. I tried to go back to teaching as my voice began to come back, however, it was too hard on my voice. I used an amplification system but by the end of the day, my voice was pretty much gone. It was tough.

I never had any interest in the health field before all of this began. However, after all of this, it sparked me to want to become a nurse. It was difficult with having a baby and also difficult financially. I still had student loans for my first degree that I was unable to use but I went back and got some more student loans to go back to school again.

I finished with my associate’s RN and started working in the hospital in May 2010. I did some of my clinical experience on the Oncology Unit and loved it. I hope to be back to that floor again someday in my nursing career. Right now, I am on a medical/surgical floor and I love it. I love the place I work as well as the people. I am also about to have another baby*.

I feel like my life has been thrown in so many different directions. I never pictured this is where my life would be at this point, but couldn’t be happier. We have had so many struggles on the way but I could not have made it through everything without my family and friends, especially my husband. He has been so supportive throughout everything. I put so many burdens on him with everything. I hope that we can now begin to get out lives back on track.

I am also thankful for my doctors and medical staff at the Arthur James Cancer Hospital in Columbus. They were wonderful and I owe so much to them. I was so fortunate with the care I received there. I did not have to receive any chemo or radiation, which was wonderful. I am so blessed in so many ways. I am a much stronger person after all that has happened.

**Just a few days ago Jenny gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Naeveh Faith.
 

The New Normal

In 2000, I was an adult, already 30.  The "C" word (yes, cancer) had never been a part of my family medical history.  My parents had some friends who had battled the dreaded disease, but I didn't know anyone personally who had been affected.  At the time, my grandparents (my mother's parents) were nearing 80 years old and were in near perfect health (unless you count Grandpa's grumblings about his feet and how they were never the same after he suffered from frost bite in the war).  My great grand mother lived to the ripe old age of 96.  My father's mother had died when I was much younger of heart disease, but his father was still alive and well.

***

My family had planned a spring break trip.  We'd drive six hours to see my grandparents, another three to see my father, and then another three to see my mom.  About a month before we were to leave, my mom called.  I don't remember her exact words, but she basically said that since we'd be there over spring break there was something she needed to warn me about.  She proceeded to tell me she would be losing her hair....from the chemotherapy she was about to start the next day....for the cancer the doctor had found in her breast and lymph nodes the week before....from the lump she had known about for well over a couple of months.

I was in shock.

Cancer was something that happened to other people.  I had run the Race for the Cure.  It was other people whose cure I raced for.  I had seen the celebratory and memorial signs runners wore on their backs; I had cried silent tears for THEM.  There had to be a mistake.  My mother had cysts taken out years earlier, maybe they were wrong this time.  She told me again...she not only had breast cancer, but it had spread to some of her lymph nodes.  At the time, I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it didn't sound good. 

When we got to her house, we discovered her prediction was correct.  Her hair had started falling out.  In keeping with her take charge character, my mom got her cigarettes and a bottle of wine and we headed to her friend's house to shave her head.  All I kept seeing in my mind's eye were all the pink (survivor) t-shirts, and the "I run in celebration of...." from the Race.  What was worse, the "I run in memory of...." signs kept flashing up.  My mother never entertained the fear that the cancer would win the battle.  At least not out loud.  At least not to me.

Several months later, after chemo and radiation, the doctor declared her the winner of the battle.  Five years later we celebrated the milestone that every survivor looks for.  (Five years cancer-free is when the chances of relapse go down significantly.)  Just as I put the memories behind me...The rematch bell was rung.  My mother's other breast decided it was time to get some attention; she was diagnosed with a different kind of breast cancer.  A "very aggressive" type.

Undaunted, my mom had a mastectomy, and continued to move forward in her fight.  I don't know if it was because I was in the middle of my own life crisis (a horrible divorce), or if I was in complete denial, but the second time around was not nearly as scary for me.  After the initial shock was over I never really even thought much about it...as if cancer was a normal part of life.

...as if cancer was a normal part of life?

Ideally, I'd like to have a world where the new normal is one without cancer.  THAT is why I'm fund-racing.  It seems cancer has become a normal part of life, but it shouldn't be.  Prevention, treatment, a cure...help for families hit in the gut by the disease.  American Cancer Society is working for all of those things.  Because they are doing all they can to help others, I'm going to do all I can to help them. 

Ashley is Running for Her Grandmother, GeeGee

(Written by Ashley Casiano) I am running for my grandmother, Sylvia Boehmer.  She lost her fight to cancer when I was young, but the time I had with her was so memorable.  GeeGee, as I affectionately nicknamed her, was always fun and full of life.  My brightest memory of her is from a cruise we took to the British Virgin Islands - we got off the ship and rented a Jeep to drive around the island.  My mom was driving, I was in the passenger seat, and GeeGee was in the backseat of the car - hair blowing in the wind while she drank a beer - as we zipped along lush island roads.  My mom, me, and GeeGee - three generations - had the most fun together on that cruise.  GeeGee always had the most amazing postive outlook on life.

Rosemary McCoy (September 21, 1942 – October 8, 1993)

((Written by Regena Moore:))  I am running The Hood to Coast Relay in honor of my mom, Rosemary McCoy, who died from lung cancer at the age of 51. I was 17 and a senior in high-school when she was diagnosed. She wasn’t a smoker, so the doctors weren’t able to give us a definite cause for the lung cancer. My family and I were shocked and confused! Would she live long enough to see me graduate from high-school? I quickly realized that not only would it be unlikely that she would see me graduate, but that she most definitely wouldn’t see me get married and have children. I was devastated!

Over the next several months, I watched and listened to my mom suffer from immense pain, weight loss, persistent cough, nausea and lack of appetite. Sometimes, I would lie in bed at night listening to her moan and cry asking God to take her to heaven because she “hurt” so bad. There were also days that I was responsible for driving her an hour away to receive radiation. Other days, she was unable to carry on a conversation due to the pain and exhaustion. My mom lived long enough to see me graduate.

She died 4 months later. It was, without a doubt, the hardest time in my life.

Over the past 2 years, I have found great joy through running. I look forward to the challenge and new experiences of participating in The Hood Coast Relay. I am honored to raise money for the America Cancer Society, so that they can continue to do cancer research. Please, join us in our journey by donating to the American Cancer Society. Your loving contribution is greatly appreciated!

In Memory Of:

Rosemary McCoy

September 21, 1942 – October 8, 1993

Caneilia is Running for Estelle Everett

Why a cancer fundrasier for Caneilia Patterson?  Caneilia has been an avid support of Breast Cancer Research her whole adult life, giving a little each time the opporunity presents itself.  She has seen numerous friends and several family members with cancer...it is such a horrible disease.  Her maternal grandmother spent her younger years in the farm fields and the importance of sunscreen was not known.  As her grandmother became older, she battled numerous melamona skin cancers from those years in the field.  Thank goodness her grandmother could catch the spots before they ever took over her body and luckily she did not pass away from cancer.  Caneilia vividly remembers her grandmother saying "wear sunscreen" and has pictures of her in her wide-brim hat when she'd go outside to tend to her flowers.  She learned what caused the skin cancer, did what she could to prevent future cancer from forming, and did her part to educate others, including her grandchildren.  Caneilia has spent years herself in the sun and tanning bed.  She quit the tanning bed after 10 straight years of sunning and tanning at the age of 23 because of her grandmother's experiences with skin cancer and the likely risk Caneilia was putting herself in.

So it was no surprised when asked "do you want to do this crazy challenge of Hood to Coast with us" that she thought for about a second, maybe 2 seconds, and quickly committed to fundraise for cancer in memory of her grandmother, Estelle Everett, and train for a very challenging race.  She believes that our entire country can only benefit from helping organizations such as the American Cancer Society reach their goals in prevention programs and cancer cures but that takes the help of the community, so Caneilia is committed!

Patricia Hall (10/1/1940-4/16/2008)

Patricia Hall
10/01/1940 – 04/16/2008

I am running to honor the memory of my mother, Patricia Hall.  In March, 2007, this beautiful, sweet lady was hospitalized with severe gastrointestinal pain and difficulty swallowing food and even liquids. During Mom’s hospitalization, we received the devastating news that she had esophageal cancer and that her esophagus was completely closed and undilatable.  A subsequent test showed that the cancer had metastasized to her liver.  The surgical oncologist gave Mom a prognosis of just eight to twelve months.  

Mom immediately launched a valiant battle against the cancer and welcomed chemotherapy treatments, along with alternative treatments.  Despite the agony of five months with a closed esophagus, Mom’s spirits remained high, her positive attitude unwavering. She delighted in the 280 get well cards she received and she even made a list of all the things that made her happy.  Mom was determined to enjoy whatever time she had left, and she maintained her beautiful smile throughout her courageous fight.  Cancer had found a formidable foe.  

After five months, her large tumor had softened enough to allow the insertion of a stent into her esophagus.  The stent allowed her to take in liquids and soft foods, giving her improved quality of life.  She continued chemotherapy for another four months until her oncologist delivered the bad news that the cancer was spreading.  He recommended cessation of chemotherapy and an emphasis on palliative care to keep Mom as comfortable as possible.  She took this news like a champ and immediately added more alternative treatments to her regimen, still determined to beat the cancer.  She never talked about dying or the end of her life.  She always took the position that she was going to beat the cancer.  She remained upbeat for Dad, my brothers, and me, and she tried to minimize our sadness and concern.

By February 2008, we could see that Mom was beginning to slip away.  The hospitalizations were more frequent, and she was getting weaker. She surpassed the doctors’ prognosis of eight to twelve months when she reached the one-year mark on March 12, 2008, but we knew she didn’t have much time left.  

On April 15, Mom came home from the hospital for the last time. When the emergency medical service personnel transported her from the ambulance into the house, she looked up at her beloved home and smiled.  It was at the top of her happy list.  Within hours, she slipped into a coma.  On April 16, a hospice nurse predicted that Mom would not live past 9:00 p.m.  Mom, always one to have the final say in her quiet dignified manner, took her last breath at 9:15 p.m.  She was just sixty-seven years old.

--Lisa Hall