Stories of Courage & Hope

Abstracts by Tom Swartz

Two girls, one strength

Amber wore a royal blue dress that night. The neckline shimmered, just a trace of glitter against a stark white bandage on her chest where her central line had been. A delicate white hat covered the dark fuzz where her long hair had been. Her mother dabbed away tears. Her bear of a father looked like he might have to borrow the Kleenex. Her best friend hugged her around the shoulders like she had at countless softball games, sleepovers, and beach trips. Amber's eyes gleamed. They were the darkest brown, the color of forgotten pecans, soil-dampened and almost black under a pile of autumn leaves. Everyone knew her first black-tie event would likely be her last, but 15-year-old Amber smiled -- big and un-self-conscious. She never seemed to carry the weight of her sickness the way others did. She never seemed to hold back tears or question her lot. That night, Amber was on her way to a dinner thrown for a friend she had never met-- an equally strong and cheerful girl, whose knee pain had become a battle for her life. Twelve-year-old Hope Stout had osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer that affects kids from ages 10 to 20. Amber did not know her, but Hope had given Amber a gift. When representatives of the Make-A-Wish Foundation visited Hope and asked her what her wish was, she looked around her hospital room--at her ever-present family and her abundance of flowers and cards-- and asked, "How many children are waiting for wishes to be granted?" The answer was 155, in her section of North Carolina. "Then, my wish is to raise money to grant all of their wishes," she said, at which point pens and jaws dropped all over the hospital, and the national media dropped in on Hope. Hope's wish raised $1 million for Make-A-Wish in just a couple months, culminating in a formal dinner and auction for which Hope planned the theme (old Hollywood), the menu, and the entertainment (Rat-Pack-style crooners). Hope died less than a week before the big night. But she spoke to the crowd in a taped interview, a Carolina blue bandanna brilliant against her bright hair. She half-giggled her way through it, telling folks not to worry about her and thanking them profusely for their help. When asked why she wished what she did, her answer was simple. "Well," she shrugged, "I just saw that God had given me a whole lot, and I had already been to Disney World and stuff. But I figured a lot of other kids hadn't." Part of the $1 million she raised went to make Amber's wish come true. The brown-eyed girl and her family spent their last Christmas together on a cruise in the Bahamas. Amber died of osteosarcoma in May of 2004, just shy of 16, and just months after the fight had begun with a complaint about pain in her shoulder. It is fitting that these two girls' stories connected, and a shame they never met. They shared more than their struggle with a rare bone cancer. Their families marveled that night, at the Celebration of Hope dinner, at how both girls were stronger than their parents, and wiser than their years. When Amber came home from the Celebration of Hope in Charlotte, she still had silver streamers clinging to her shoulders when she told her mother, "Let’s do one for Hope, too." Amber's hometown Celebration of Hope added an extra $13,000 to the fund. Amber was determined to attend. She was wheeled in on her hospital bed, and was able to sit up long enough to sing her favorite hymn with a local Gospel band. When faced with death, Amber gleamed, Hope giggled, and both of them gave so much.

11-year-old boy honored by Dalai Lama in S.F. Ben Duskin's online game helps kids like him worldwide who are battling cancer

Last year, Ben Duskin created an Internet video game for children just like him -- kids with cancer. Since then, Ben's Game has received 443,000 hits and been translated into nine languages. It's hard to top that, but recently the 11-year-old boy was one of 48 people honored by the Dalai Lama in San Francisco. The "Unsung Heroes of Compassion 2005" converged upon the Ritz-Carlton hotel from 22 countries and as close as the city's Castro district, home of Eric Johnston, a 35-year-old software engineer, who designed the game with Ben. The game Ben and Johnston invented reflects the boy's own battle with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, which he contracted at age 5 and battled for 3 1/2 years before going into remission. The game includes monsters, a boy on a skateboard and a playfield of mutating cells. So far, the game has been downloaded, for play, 176,000 times. "I'm stunned," said Patricia Wilson, executive director of the Greater Bay Area Make-A-Wish Foundation, which initially figured Ben's wish would take too much time and money to grant. When Johnston heard about the boy's desire to invent a game to entertain other children with cancer, the inconceivable became real. Now he figures they'll be friends forever. The game is available for free on the foundation's website. "We've brought their servers down three times, which is a good problem for a nonprofit to have," Johnston said. Upon meeting the Dali Lama, on the stage of the grand ballroom, the Dalai Lama draped a white silk prayer shawl around Ben's shoulders. The honor also includes $1,000. "I had a brief moment with him. It was fun," said Ben.

Set To Trek 300 Kilometres

Joe Robichaud is developing his idea of trekking 300 kilometers around Canada’s Cabot Trail one step at a time, he says. The plans for his July 2007 cancer research fundraiser have already been underway for a year, but now things are really coming together. "It feels more concrete, and there’s a great deal of energy that seems to be flowing. It just feels more real," the 55-year-old said. Mr. Robichaud hopes to cover 300 kilometers of trail and raise $300,000 for the Canadian Cancer Society over three weeks next summer. Now he’s calling on businesses and the public for support. Corporate sponsorship will be $1,000 per kilometer, public pledges of any length are $1 per meter and donations of resources like an RV, food and fuel are needed. The Dartmouth man was diagnosed with bone cancer in his hip at 12. At that time there were no treatment options available, and his left leg was amputated in order to save his life. Cancer-free ever since, he now chooses to use crutches after walking on an artificial limb most of his life. No matter what happens in terms of support over the year, he will set out on the trail. "It’s going to happen one way or another," he said. "If I have to sleep in my car, I’ll do it."

Warren Bailey – Staying in the Game

Warren Bailey won the Alaska state racquetball championship in April 2005 against men in all age brackets, despite numerous extensive surgeries to remove tissue from his upper right thigh. Bailey has leiomyosarcoma, a sarcoma that begins in smooth muscle. Competitive players normally have to move fast and jump high to return the racquetball or avoid being pummeled by it, says Bailey. “I can’t do all that,” he explains. “I have to be real smart about how I play the game.” A few months after winning the state championship, Bailey underwent an innovative procedure called video-assisted thoracic surgery (VATS) to remove metastases in his lungs. It’s a procedure his doctors agreed to postpone so Bailey could compete in the national tournament in March and the international tournament in July, where he placed in the top 15 and top 20 respectively in his age category. At 59, Bailey has played racquetball for more than 15 years, and he is not about to give it up because he has cancer. In fact, he says, it’s part of what’s kept him alive. VATS allows doctors to perform chest surgery through a series of small incisions. A camera inserted through one incision guides their work. The procedure is much less invasive than traditional open-chest surgery, which requires cutting through or spreading open the rib cage and cutting extensively through muscle. Having done some research beforehand, Bailey says he knew VATS was “the best and least invasive, proven way to go.” “My type of cancer comes back many times, and the lighter procedure, if done right, actually gives a better chance of not seeding again for more tumor growth,” he explains. “Plus I can still play catch with my grandkids, hike, fish and, yes, God willing, [play] racquetball!” His doctors, well aware that Bailey likes to be so active, determined he was a good candidate for VATS. Bailey spent only three days in the hospital after the procedure. After traditional open-chest surgery, patients typically spend a week in the hospital and then four to six weeks recovering at home. Ten days after surgery, he and his wife, Kathy, were going on two-and-a-half miles walks. “They told me I can play racquetball right now if I want to,” he said, just 12 days after surgery and one day after removal of the staples that secured his incisions. Just how important is racquetball to Bailey? Here’s what he said in a speech to the National Masters Racquetball Association at the end of the 2005 national tournament in Canoga Park, Calif.: “Racquetball has been so important for my recovery, both mentally and physically, that I can say outside of God, racquetball has been the main reason I’m alive today.” Actually, Bailey lists his family ahead of racquetball. Kathy, his wife of 40 years, has been a big support throughout treatment. So have his three children, who all live in Alaska. He finds support beyond his family, too. Since the fall of 2004, he has participated in the L-M-SARCOMA listserv, an online place for people to meet to talk about leiomyosarcoma. “I joined the group to see if it could help me understand my disease a little better and to have conversations with people with my same disease,” explains Bailey, who logs on daily. “Through them, I know the right questions to ask and what new treatments are out there.” The listserv is where he first heard about VATS. Bailey first suspected health trouble when he noticed a lump in his leg in the fall of 1999. He visited his local doctor in Anchorage, who misdiagnosed the lump as a lipoma, a fatty noncancerous mass, that needn’t cause concern. By the spring of 2001, the lump had grown noticeably and became discolored, so Bailey returned to the doctor. The doctor reiterated that it didn’t need to be removed, but that he could remove it quickly at his office if Bailey wanted. Bailey did. But the surgery was more intensive than planned taking several hours and getting only part of the lump. Pathology report came back with a diagnosis of leiomyosarcoma. In addition to confirming the leiomyosarcoma in Bailey’s leg, doctors discovered he had nodules in his lungs where the sarcoma had spread. Bailey had major surgery to remove cancerous tissue in his upper right thigh, the site where doctors believe his cancer began. Later doctors determined they had not gotten clear margins. So they knew some cancer remained in Bailey’s leg. To get at it, Bailey had another major surgery, followed by three months of radiation therapy. The wound from Bailey’s surgery refused to close and heal itself as expected. To promote healing in Bailey’s leg, doctors prescribed treatments in a hyperbaric chamber. Bailey attended 40 sessions – two-and-a-half hours per session, five days per week for eight weeks. The treatment involves staying inside a small, pressurized room with high levels of oxygen. The pressure was not only uncomfortable – “It was equal to being about 50 feet under the water,” says Bailey – but can also cause side effects. Bailey suffered damage to his eyes. His vision deteriorated, and he needed two cataract surgeries. The hyperbaric treatment did help heal his leg, Bailey says. But it was not completely successful, and in February 2003 he had another surgery to remove cancer as well as unhealed tissue. By September 2003, Bailey’s cancer was back in his leg. Also, one of the nodules in his lungs that hadn’t changed in years – a good sign – now appeared to be changing. More surgery would be needed. To shrink the leg tumor before surgery, doctors put Bailey on a chemotherapy regimen called AIM for short. It consists of the drugs adriamycin, ifosfamide and mesna. “It’s the hardest one you can have,” says Bailey. Usually doctors limit use of AIM to younger patients because it’s so taxing on the body. But they decided to try it with Bailey because of his fitness and strength, and because his vital signs were good. From October 2003 through January 2004, he went through six cycles of AIM, spending one week in the hospital then two weeks out of the hospital for each cycle. Though it was debilitating at the time, the treatment worked, shrinking not only the growth in his leg but also the active nodule in his lung. So in January 2004, doctors went to work to remove more leg tissue in yet another surgery. Bailey estimates that during his odyssey with cancer so far he has spent a total of one year in a wheel chair and one-and-a-half years on crutches. He’s also battled through three major infections, including two serious infections with Staphylococcus bacteria. About two weeks after his VATS procedure however, Bailey’s first order of business was to visit his children and grandchildren. Next was, of course, heading to the racquetball court to see how he could play.

This Pitcher's Battle is an Inspiration

The scholastic softball season appears to have ended prematurely for Jessica DiDario. DiDario, Holy Spirit's 5-foot-6 pitching ace, underwent surgery to remove a soft tissue sarcoma of the left hip on May 9th. Nevertheless, from her hospital bed two days later, the strong-willed 17-year-old expressed hope that she will play one more game for the Spartans this season. Familiar with her fighting spirit, Joe Calvi, DiDario's former coach at the school, said he wouldn't be surprised to see her back in uniform this season. Team members, opposing players and Spartans coach Jake Foley would like to see her back, because the way she handled the ordeal was inspirational. Her parents, Mark and Michelle DiDario, would enjoy watching their only daughter pitch again soon, because the passion to compete fulfills her and may have helped her through a difficult period. DiDario was diagnosed on Sept. 27, 2005. DiDario's return to softball is more likely in June. "I like pitching because of the intensity and the pressure of knowing that the whole game is on your shoulders," said DiDario, who played in pain silently for three-and-a-half weeks while compiling a 4-2 record for the defending Cape-Atlantic League champions. "And, yes, I do think it affected the way I handled this. I was scared, hearing the word cancer. At my age, you think the worst. But the surgery was successful. They got everything." The Spartans' No. 1 pitcher wore colorful bandanas in place of the long, brown hair that disappeared shortly after chemotherapy started on Oct. 4. Tutors visited her home in Galloway until she felt strong enough to return to class in February. "I never heard her complain once," said Absegami third baseman Jess Schoenstein, who has batted against and with DiDario over the last nine years. "I was proud to see her out there. She released an energy that players would feed off." Absegami coach Pat Esemplare said it was "a tribute" to watch DiDario pitch, even though she beat his team, 2-1, and struck out Schoenstein, a .400 hitter, three times in her last pitching appearance on April 19. DiDario's teammates wore bandanas in her honor while playing Buena on the day of her surgery. They lost, 10-1, to a team they had defeated easily earlier. As for DiDario, a junior with a 3.5 grade point average who wants to play college softball in Division II or III, her plan is to improve her rise ball, a pitch that most hurlers find difficult to master. No one who knows her doubts that she, too, will be on the rise soon.

True Mother's Day Gift

When Trisha and John Zowada tell their daughter the story about where she came from, it won't have anything to do with a stork.It's a better story than that. Sara Rosemary Zowada was born on Good Friday by Caesarian section to her aunt, Janet Steinbeisser Krivec. Steinbeisser Krivec became a surrogate mother for her sister, Trisha, after Trisha was diagnosed with endometrial stromal sarcoma, an extraordinarily rare form of uterine cancer. "When somebody has cancer, you always say, 'What can I do?' " Steinbeisser Krivec said. "This was something I could do." After the cancer diagnosis, the Zowadas were told Trisha needed immediate surgery to remove her reproductive system -- including her ovaries. "She (the doctor) told me I had to have a hysterectomy and I couldn't save my eggs," Trisha Zowada said. But at the last minute, that decision was reversed, and the Zowadas were able to fertilize and preserve a dozen of Trisha's eggs, including the one that was eventually implanted in Steinbeisser Krivec's womb. The Zowadas had been trying to conceive a baby for some time when Trisha's gynecologist discovered a growth in her uterus in February 2005. The doctor thought it was a fibroid, a common and usually benign type of uterine tumor. Fibroids are often left in place, but, because Trisha was having trouble conceiving, the doctor decided to remove the growth; a routine test discovered that it was sarcoma. The cancer was thought to be estrogen-sensitive, which meant that hormone treatments needed to harvest Trisha's eggs might make it grow more quickly. Trisha was sent to Denver for surgery. On the day of her surgery, the Zowadas had all but decided to adopt a baby. Still, Trisha Zowada couldn't let go of the idea of having a biological child. "I said, 'I need to ask one more time. This just seems so final. Are you sure I can't save my eggs?'" she said. The specialist in Denver was perplexed. Hadn't the Zowadas consulted with a fertility specialist? They hadn't. Trisha's surgery was canceled, and the couple rushed across town to a fertility clinic, where they got the news they wanted: They could preserve Trisha's eggs and fertilize them with John's sperm. That left just one question: Where would they grow the embryos? Months earlier, before the cancer diagnosis, Trisha and her sister had talked about surrogate pregnancy. "We were in the mall one day, and she looked at me and said, 'If you ever need a surrogate, I'd do that for you,'" Trisha Zowada said. "I said, 'Oh, it won't come down to that.'" Janet Steinbeisser Krivec is eight years older than Trisha, but the sisters' relationship is very close. "I value my children so much," Janet said. "If that (needing a surrogate) was the only thing stopping her from being a mom, I could help that." That offer had been rendered moot by the news that Trisha could not save her eggs. But when the Zowadas learned they could pursue an in vitro pregnancy after all, their first call was to Janet. "They asked how serious I was" about being a surrogate, she said. "I was very serious." A month later, doctors collected 17 of Trisha's eggs and successfully fertilized 12 of them. Two days after that procedure, Trisha had a hysterectomy and was declared cancer-free. She did not need chemotherapy or radiation treatments. On Aug. 3^rd 2005, doctors transferred two Zowada embryos into Janet's uterus. Janet had to stay in bed for 48 hours after the procedure, so the women rented a hotel room in Denver. "It was so fun," Trisha said. "We just laughed the whole entire trip." "Those days we got to spend in the hotel room were priceless," Janet said. Nine days after the August in vitro procedure, Trisha Zowada received a call at work from her doctor's office. Her sister's blood work was in. "I jumped up out of my seat," she said. "I was like, 'Oh, my God, she's pregnant, she's pregnant, she's pregnant!'" The first three months of the pregnancy were hard on everyone, but especially on Janet. Her husband gave her hormone shots every morning, and she had to have blood work done every three days. After about the 14th week, Janet's body took over and the pregnancy began to feel more like the two she had already experienced. The baby was due April 22, but Janet began having contractions a week early. On April 14, Sara Rosemary was born via Caesarian section. She weighed 8 pounds, 9 ounces, and was named after her grandmother, Leona Rosemary. The Zowadas want more children, but they aren't sure how they will go about it. They are comfortable with adoption, but they also have 10 embryos in storage. "Time will tell," Trisha said. "I don't know if I could have another surrogate besides my sister." Janet promised herself that she would not seriously consider a second surrogate pregnancy until at least three months after Sara's birth. But she hasn't ruled it out.

Nick: ‘Live as good as you can’

The Sandoval family had a day full of fun planned for mom, Rose’s, 39th birthday on September 12, 2002. They were going to spend it as a family, where they would go to a local restaurant after a quick stop at the doctor’s office to see what was going on with 12-year-old Nick’s knee. Nick’s knee had been bothering him for a while, but after starting to play with a youth football team, the pain became unbearable and he told his mom about it. Rose figured that he’d need a bit of physical therapy but didn’t really worry about it. Unfortunately, Rose’s birthday did not turn out the way the Sandoval family had planned. At that first stop at the doctor’s office, they found out that what they thought was minor knee pain was really osteosarcoma. “We were absolutely devastated,” said Rose. “We thought we were going in for physical therapy, but ended up getting chemotherapy.” In fact, Nick who is now 15 years old, underwent a grueling year of chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant at the Children’s Hospital of Oakland. For the first few months of chemotherapy, he was allowed to come home in between doses, but as his body grew weaker, he had to spend more and more time in the hospital. Towards the end of that year, he was spending weeks on end on the 5th floor of the Oakland hospital. It was on that floor that the Sandovals met what Rose calls their “cancer family”. The families of the young cancer patients bonded together to lend a shoulder to cry on and share stories that only they could really empathize with. Rose would be feeling sad and angry at her situation and share her frustrations with other moms and dads who had kids on the 5th floor. She would in turn, listen to their stories of cancer and heartbreak. “After hearing their stories you become thankful for what you have and yet completely devastated by what you’re going through,” said Rose. The family was able to cope with help from a large support system including the families on the 5th floor, the Lathrop and Manteca communities, pastors and mentors at Calvary Community Church in Manteca, and various resources for families of cancer patients. One of the resources that the Sandovals treasure is Camp Okizu, a retreat center for families of cancer patients. Each member of their family went on a week long trip at no cost to them in which counselors and directors made sure that they didn’t have to worry about anything except having a good time.

The Sandovals have also benefited from the help of several Lathrop and Manteca community organizations including the Titans, Manteca Kiwanis and the Manteca Rotary Club. The Titans donated $1,000 to help with medical and family expenses. The Kiwanis put on a pancake breakfast to benefit the family and the Rotary Club helped to fund Nick’s trip to Washington DC as part of the Junior National Young Leaders Conference. “The blessings that come when a community supports you is so awesome,” said Rose, a frequent community volunteer. “It’s easy to give, but it’s very difficult to receive so much, especially from people you don’t know.” Nick, who is now a freshman at Sierra High School in Manteca, is in better health than he was four years ago, but is still battling cancer. The disease metastasized to his lungs and he has had several operations to cut out tumors. Nick must undergo alternating cat, bone and heart scans every 6 weeks. Sadly, Nick isn’t able to play sports anymore because doctors were forced to cut out 7 inches of his femur and replace it with a metal prosthesis that they expand as he grows. The prosthesis isn’t up to the impact of sports like football or basketball, but Nick is excited that his physical education teachers at Sierra High are doing their best to include him by providing things like pinch runners in baseball games allowing Nick to step up to the plate. Battling cancer has taught Nick lessons that most people don’t learn until much later in life. “It made me realize how important it is to live as good as you can and how important it is to get good grades and how important my family and friends are,” said Nick. Since he missed most of 7th grade because he was in the hospital, Nick repeated the grade the next year. He was in a wheelchair for most of that year and graduated to crutches for the last 2 weeks of the school year. “But now I’m really good at doing wheelies,” said Nick with a smile. Nick is really good at doing a lot of things. After battling cancer, he went from being an average student to leading his class with a nearly 4.0 grade point average. His academic jump is due in large part to the inspirational trip to the Jr. National Young Leaders Conference in Washington DC which he was nominated for by his history teacher. He was also recently honored by the college prep class he participates as a recipient of the AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination) Vargo Scholar Award. Nick now has plans to go to college to get a degree in biomedical engineering. “I want to help people out who have my problem. If they need an arm, I want to be able to make it for them,” said Nick, referencing his own bone prosthesis.

Scholarship Created in Name of Former Reno Rodeo Champion

Shane Drury, the 2001 Reno Rodeo bull riding champion, is fighting a losing battle with Ewing’s sarcoma. His friends are out to make sure he'll never be forgotten. The National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association (NIRA) Foundation recently announced the creation of the Shane Drury Scholarship. The first $2,500 scholarship will be presented at the 2006 College National Finals Rodeo, which runs June 11-17 in Casper, Wyoming. A year after winning the bull riding title and setting an arena record with a 95-point ride on Big Bend Rodeo Company's bull Riverdance, Drury, was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma. He immediately started chemotherapy to reduce a grapefruit-sized tumor in his chest cavity. He had surgery in August 2002 to remove the tumor, surrounding muscle and a portion of several ribs. One of the things that kept him going through the process was the goal of returning to the rodeo arena. After being deemed cancer free, he started competing in the PRCA again, just two months after his final treatment. However, just a few months later, a routine checkup revealed that the cancer had returned. He went through treatment again and was declared cancer free a second time, but just four months later, he started having pain in his back and chest again. Again, doctors told him the cancer was back. Since then, Drury's fight has turned to making the most of the time he has left. “Realistically, I don't have much time left here on this earth," Drury told Susan Kanode, public relations coordinator for the College National Finals Rodeo. "I'm not thinking about that. I'm enjoying every day that I'm here and thanking God for every minute. I'm staying busy and keep telling everyone that I don't have time to die." Drury is continuing his love of rodeo, working as a bull riding judge at PRCA, Professional Bull Riders and college rodeo events. Drury's story, love of rodeo and attitude led to the creation of the scholarship, hoping that just as his story has inspired others to persevere and keep going, a student would be able to share their story and keep the inspiration going. The scholarship selection committee includes some of the biggest names in rodeo, including seven-time world all-around champion Ty Murray; ProRodeo Hall of Fame announcer Bob Tallman and his wife, Kristin; and tie-down roper Stran Smith. Donations to the scholarship fund are fully tax deductible and can be made to the NIRA Foundation in Shane Drury's name. They should be sent to: National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association Foundation, 2316 Eastgate North Suite 160, Walla Walla, WA 99362. Drury plans on being on hand to present the first scholarship during this year's CNFR at the Casper Events Center.

California Girl Copes with Cancer One Day at a Time

Aside from picking the perfect dress for her upcoming senior prom, Elizabeth Creger has another thing on her mind -- picking the right wig to match. Yet, while other girls may be planning their dinners and limousine rides in advance, she is taking things one day at a time. Creger, a senior at Mountain View High School in California is living with cancer, so it's hard to predict what will happen past today. “My worst fears have always been spiders and cancer,'' Creger said, “and they were both realized during a span of about a month.'' Creger was bitten by a spider the day before she was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma. Once scared of needles and cancer, Creger is now enduring chemotherapy and radiation. Her treatments keep her in the hospital for six or seven days at a time. Even when she's home, she makes frequent visits to the emergency room because of high fevers. She's also had to contemplate her future children earlier than she imagined. She receives a shot of hormones every month because doctors feared that chemotherapy could cause her to be unfertile. She described the pain as “the worst bee sting you could imagine.'' She laughed about the alternative to the injection -- freezing her eggs at the age of 17. Yet, Creger views having cancer as a learning experience. “At the beginning, I felt more alone with my disease, like no one else knew how I felt,'' Creger said. Now, she exchanges stories with a community of current and former cancer patients (including some in her school's administration and faculty). Because of her experience, she feels like her priorities are in order because she “knows what's more important in life.'' After her treatments are completed, she hopes to travel to the Darfur region in Sudan so she can help genocide victims. She will be graduating with the Mountain View High School Class of 2006, but is unsure whether she will be able to attend the commencement ceremony. And though her body is pushed to its limit on a weekly basis, Creger is still able to describe her procedures with an easy smile, a joke or two, and a laugh. Having no hair makes it easier to endure days in the hospital without a shower -- and she doesn't have to shave her legs anymore, either, she said.

Battling Cancer is no Joke, But Couple Thinks of Ways to Find Joy

After doctors diagnosed Jerry Nicholas with soft tissue sarcoma for the third time, he and his wife got their heads painted. When her husband began losing his hair from chemotherapy, Anna Nicholas had her head shaved to match. During the Easter holiday the two had a friend decorate their heads like Easter eggs to celebrate the holiday. They aren’t trying to turn terminal illness into a joke, Anna said. Jerry’s been fighting cancer, in and out of remission, for the past four years so the couple knows how serious the illness can be. She said they’re just finding ways to cheer themselves up and keep a positive attitude. “We just have to try to think of things to do to take our minds off it,” she said. “We just try to stay busy.... This is not a joyful time, but we’re trying to find the joy in it.” Jerry began his battle with sarcoma about four years ago when he developed a golf-ball-size bump in the calf of his left leg, a place he had injured volunteering at a Boy Scout camp the year before. After Jerry began losing his hair as a side-effect of chemotherapy, Anna shaved her head for the first time. With her head freshly shaved, Anna attended her first Relay for Life. The cancer treatment fund-raiser would become a significant part of their lives in the coming years. The relay begins with a survivors’ walk, where cancer survivors walk a lap around the track. Anna recalls watching the ceremony through the fence and being moved to a tearful prayer. “I started crying, and I just said: ‘Please God, let my husband walk in this walk next year.’” Jerry did. By that time, he’d had a bone removed from his left leg, but he walked the survivors’ lap holding hands with a friend. He was the first to start and the last to finish, Anna said, but Jerry finished. At relay time the next year, Jerry once again made the survivors’ lap, this time in a prosthetic leg. Jerry lost most of his left leg to cancer in December 2003, so his family dressed up in pirate costumes to match his “peg leg.” Their Christmas card that year read: “Yo, ho, ho, Merry Christmas.” Jerry’s leg was amputated Dec. 2 that year – Anna’s birthday. How does Jerry keep from being overcome by despair or depression when he’s hurting or feeling weak? He can answer in one word. “Her,” he said pointing to Anna. “She’s my angel. She can always find a way to turn a negative into a positive.” While pirate costumes and scalp decorations may seem like unconventional ways of finding hope in a potentially fatal illness, Jerry said Anna is not a conventional person, and he’s told her he will cooperate with any plan she has for cheering them up. “You’ve not run into anybody like Anna before,” he said. “She can come up with a joke or a game or just a way to get through this, and I told her I would never say no to anything she suggested.” On July 4, it might very well mean having a glow-in-the dark fireworks display painted on his scalp. But it also means keeping busy and having fun with his wife and family while he can. “She told me: ‘We can make this sad, or we can make it fun,’ so we’re trying to have fun,” he said. But don’t think the Nicholas family is living in denial, hiding from reality in wacky disguises and fluorescent makeup, Anna said. Jerry has been diagnosed with cancer for the third time now, and each time the cancer reappears, his chances of recovering diminish. This time, the cancer has moved to his chest, surrounding his heart and lungs. The doctors say it’s inoperable. And no one knows these things better than Jerry and Anna. “I’m completely aware of what can happen with this,” Anna said. Jerry is even more blunt describing his condition. “Eventually, this will kill me,” he said. “I know that.” In fact, Anna said, the two are so realistic about Jerry’s odds they sometimes make their friends uncomfortable. They have accepted the reality of the situation, she said, but they have no intention to dwell on it. “I cried when they told us he had cancer again,” she said. “I cried for a whole day. But what am I going to do, cry everyday?” Jerry and Anna say no. The time the couple has left is too precious to waste on depression and self-pity, Jerry said. Fighting the urge to get depressed isn’t always easy, Anna said, and it would be impossible without her faith. She said she sees her faith as her core, surrounded by hope. Hope for Jerry’s recovery, but also hope of a life after this one where she and Jerry will be reunited. Encompassing both of these values, she said, is her love. These three things, she said, and her belief in a power greater than her own give her the strength to try to make her husband’s bouts with cancer fun. A few nights ago, Jerry and Anna both woke up at 4 a.m., unable to go back to sleep. Anna got a loaf of pumpkin bread and some milk from the kitchen and the two stayed up together, sharing a snack and watching TV. “I thought: ‘Am I just going to lay here and feel sorry for myself?” Anna said, “Or I can go get some food and we can have a bed picnic.” They opted for the bed picnic. At Relay for Life three years ago, Anna would have been found hanging onto the fence by the track, praying for her husband’s recovery. Jerry and Anna both hope he will be walking in the survivor lap this May, but her prayer has changed. “My prayer is that I will have the strength that I need to get through this,” she said. “I know what’s going to happen, and there’s days when I’m going to be sad, but I also know we’re going to be OK.”