Pink Arrow Stories of Perserverance 2015 by Jon Jacobs

perseverance

Stories of

A community fighting cancer

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perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Six boys pen "Guys' Guide to Grief"

Six young men who tragically lost their fathers or grandfathers have gotten together and written a book, “Guys’ Guide to Grief.” Alex Stiles, Justin Gallandt, Luke McLaren, Mason McLaren, Steven Eickhoff and Max LaPonsie range in age from 11 to 16. They met at Gilda’s Club of Lowell, 314 S. Hudson St., during a grief support group. The boys became friends and Luke McLaren had the idea that they should collaborate on a book. “It started back in December where they started writing and collaborating on ideas,” said Kristen McLaren, the mother of two of the authors. “They’re all young tweens and they just thought, ‘Hey, let’s put all our stories in one place. We’ve helped each other out in this journey, maybe we could put our stories down on paper and help other young guys going through losing a father figure in their life.’ Each put their story down on paper and submitted photos.” Not only did Luke have the idea for the book, he also had a publisher in mind. “Luke actually got the publisher, Studentreasures Publishing,” McLaren said. “[Luke] had written and illustrated a book through school and they had published those. He said, ‘Maybe we could start here.’ [Gilda’s Club volunteer] Jacqueline Scherer contacted them and it took off from there. The publisher was very interested. They said they’d never seen anything like this, where a group of boys connected in this unique way, trying to help other young men in a similar situation. They were very excited to publish it. It’s really exciting. We just hope that it impacts other kids going through the same thing.” In “Guys’ Guide to Grief,” each author has their own chapter in which they relate stories and share pictures and messages of encouragement for other young men who might be going through the same thing. Luke and Mason McLaren lost their father Donovan McLaren, 36, in a car crash. The whole family were passengers in the car and they all sustained serious injuries. Luke McLaren is 11 and a 7th grader at Greenville Middle School. “We were coming home from a family party in 2011 and we got in a car accident,” Luke said. “We were all in it, my brother and sister, my mom and dad. When I was in the hospital a lady came in and told me that my father had passed away, then my mom came in and said it was going to be okay.”

Luke was injured, but has recovered. Unfortunately, he had to miss his father’s funeral. “My neck was unseized, it came apart in one area,” Luke said. “I was paralyzed on my whole left side for a few weeks, but then I slowly regained my strength. We were in the hospital for the funeral, but my mom went in a wheelchair.” Luke has many fond memories of his father. “He was fun, really active; he was never sad, he was always happy,” Luke said. “We loved to watch movies together. I was sad, but I’ve learned to get used to it kind of.” Luke’s brother Mason McLaren, 13, is an 8th grader at Greenville Middle School. He also remembers Donovan McLaren as a funloving, caring man. “I remember him as an uplifting, fun kind of guy,” Mason said. “He was always cheerful and never angry. He always cheered you up. We liked to watch movies together. We would stay up really late when my mom would go scrapbooking and we’d watch movies all night.” Mason was lucky to survive the accident. “I had seven broken ribs, my left collarbone broke, my spleen and pancreas split, my spinal cord stretched and caused eye damage; I had a collapsed lung, a kidney laceration and I had poison ivy,” Mason said. “Luke got out to try to get help and he fell in poison ivy. The doctor who touched him touched me and I got poison ivy.” Mason had a long recovery period, but now you can’t tell he was ever hurt. Guys’ Guide to Grief, continued, page 29

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Six boys pen "Guys' Guide to Grief"

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Clara and Herb Rice I came from Havana, Cuba, in 1962 and had traveled all around the USA, but truly Michigan is my favorite state. I lived in Grand Rapids most of my life, where I brought up my two daughters with the help of my parents and where I met my wonderful husband Herb. So here we are having a good and fun life, when Herb was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1999 and began his long fight with cancer. As of today, after many treatments, his cancer is under control. Last year, in December, when I had my annual mammogram, they found a suspicious spot in my right breast and after a second mammogram and a biopsy, I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma. After the diagnosis everything happened so fast I felt like it was happening to someone else. I had a right breast mastectomy and some lymph nodes removed. Because everything else was clear of cancer, I did not need chemo or radiation; I only have to take one pill a day for five years. I was blessed; the Lord gave me a second chance. We would like to thank the Pink Arrow for the gift cards given to us. They helped in many ways. I determined after living in several places, that Lowell is very beautiful and full of a loving community.

Marcia Knott I was diagnosed at age 44 with cancer in my right breast for the first time in August 1997. Our son Rob was 14, our daughter Sara was 10. Ed and I would be celebrating 23 years of marriage on August 23 and construction had begun on the new home we were having built. After a lumpectomy with no cancer showing in the lymph nodes, six months of mild chemotherapy (fatigue, slight nausea and very little hair loss), six weeks of radiation and a couple of months recovery time, life as we knew it pretty much returned to normal. Fast forward to July 2014, seventeen years later....Rob and Sara were now adults; Sara was married; we had welcomed two granddaughters into the world, who had totally stolen our hearts; Ed and I would be celebrating our 40th anniversary. Ed was retired from the Kent County Sheriff’s Department and was now working three part-time jobs, one of which was with the Lowell Police Department. We had pursued our love of travel, both in the U.S. and internationally, traveling sometimes with friends, sometimes with family and sometimes just the two of us. We enjoyed seeing the landmarks and history in the big cities, but the best part was traveling to the small towns, seeing the beautiful scenery along the way and experiencing the local culture, and yes, always coming home with a meaningful souvenir - usually pottery, crystal, china, or jewelry. We devoted lots of time to our granddaughters’ life journeys, creating precious memories along the way. Life was not perfect, but it was GOOD. Then I was again diagnosed with cancer in my right breast. I found myself along with Ed, Rob, Sara and my sister Karen

sitting in a conference room for a three-hour consultation with an oncology surgeon to discuss “the plan” for surgery and follow-up treatment. On Monday, August 11, with Ed, Rob, Sara and Karen in the waiting room and other family and friends waiting for phone calls with updates, I went in for a 10-hour surgery with the oncology Marcia’s story, continued, page 35

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A community fighting cancer

Marcia's story, continued surgeon performing a right breast mastectomy, lymph node excision and insertion of a port in my upper left chest, and then the plastic surgeon doing a left breast reduction and a right breast reconstruction using what is called a DIEP procedure, using my belly fat for the reconstruction. This necessitated a “tummy tuck,” which my friend Isabelle told me was the “silver lining in the cloud.” Due to the delicacy of the procedures, I spent the next five days in Intensive Care, in a room where the temperature was kept at a constant 78 degrees and I was covered with a “bear hugger” inflated blanket blowing warm air over my entire body. Everything was going smoothly until it was discovered on Wednesday morning that a hematoma had developed at the site where the port had been. It was decided by both of my surgeons that they would take me back into surgery, where they repaired the hematoma and rechecked all of the other incisions. (On Friday, when I was allowed out of bed for the first time, I counted ten incisions, with the mastectomy, reconstruction, lymph node excision, tummy tuck and the insertion of four drains.) Friday evening I was transferred to a regular room and was told on Saturday I could go home as long as I had someone to care for me (and to keep in mind that if I stayed in the hospital, I was where they had the tools and expertise to take good care of me). They were right, but I opted to go home where I also received good care. After an eight week recovery period, I began my chemotherapy...a treatment once every three weeks, with a total of six treatments. These treatments were not the quick one-hour mild treatments I received in 1997/1998. These treatments each took the better part of a day. I lost my hair. I was terribly fatigued. Usually about two days following a treatment I would start not to feel good, which lasted for several days. I learned if I wanted to do anything, the three days prior to my next treatment were the days to do it. I would be hungry, but most foods left a terrible taste in my mouth. Lipton Chicken Cup-a-Soup and my recliner in the sunroom became my best friends. Ed would go to bed at night and I would say I’d be there in a minute, but often just didn’t want to make the effort it took to get out of the chair and walk to the bedroom, so I would fall asleep in the chair and wake up a few hours later and then head to bed. It wasn’t horrible and I did what I had to do, but I was looking forward to better days. I don’t think a person realizes, until they go through something traumatic, what a difference a good support system can make in coping, recovering and just getting through each day. That support system was there for me and definitely made things very doable. Ed, Rob, Kevin and Sara, along with their precious Evalyn and Olive, and my sister Karen have been so good to me. Between all of them, someone was with me during my entire stay at the hospital, even taking turns staying during the night. At home, they provided excellent care. I was always driven to my many appointments and kept company during all of my chemo sessions. I could feel the love and support of extended family members,

my very dear friends, my wonderful co-workers and neighbors, all of whom offered kind words, prepared meals and always asked me if there was anything else I needed. The Lowell community and Pink Arrow Pride, with their generosity and devotion to the cause, as many people have testified to, is a wonderful thing. I was honored to have my name on the pink football jersey worn by Karsen Murley in the 2014 Pink Arrow football game. (That pink jersey now hangs proudly in my closet among my other clothes.) I had the best of both worlds for my care, going to Lack’s Cancer Center for my mammograms, biopsy, surgery and recovery and then having my chemo treatments at the Lemmen Holten Cancer Pavilion. I have been the recipient of the best care and felt the kindness and compassion of the doctors, nurses and all other staff at both of these facilities. One year after my diagnosis, I am mostly recovered. (Although fatigue, chemo brain and neuropathy sometimes remind me I still need to take it a little easy.) I am still going once every three weeks through the end of September to receive one drug, but it really doesn’t have any side effects. I have had the same nurse, Tasha, for all of my treatments, but she will be moving out of state after my next treatment and I will surely miss her! My hair is starting to grow back and as another bit of wisdom from Isabelle pointed out, I would know what my true hair color is as I have been coloring it for so many years. She was right...I am not surprised it is a mixture of white and gray. I retired from my over 40-year career at Amway in April and have already enjoyed a couple of vacations...one with Karen and one with Ed. As soon as I finish writing this article, I will begin packing in preparation for another vacation with Karen and a friend. Ed and I have quite the bucket list and look forward to continuing to work on it. Life IS good.

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perseverance

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For five weeks, the Lowell Ledger and the Buyers Guide highlighted the stories of area cancer survivors. Each told, in their own words, of their experiences as they walked through the many phases of their personal journey. Photos by Modern Photography

Renee Grant endless doctor appointments and medical claims somewhere in the ballpark of $500,000.” (And that doesn’t include the remaining treatments and hospital stays she endured in the final two years of her life.) Renee Grant’s life was about far more than the disease that ravaged her body. Her friends remember her as one who had a powerful zest for life. She was fiercely independent with a streak of stubbornness and had a laugh that was uniquely hers. She was a successful business woman and deeply loyal to her friends and family, her business associates and her community. She had a magnetic personality. Renee was joined in life by her partner Sharon Schnipke and together they served their community in many ways. For several years they delivered Christmas boxes on behalf of the Santa Claus Girls. They were active in the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life, a cause that was close to Sharon’s heart because she had lost a brother-in-law to cancer. Renee used her many business contacts Renee Grant’s story is told in her memory, with three of her friends contributing to this article. Our appreciation is expressed to Lan Hamilton, Lynn Wolbers and Carol Seacord for the assistance they provided as they shared their memories of Renee. One of the first persons to receive a financial gift from Pink Arrow has now become the first person to name Pink Arrow in her will. Renee Grant was first diagnosed with cancer in 2007. For seven years she knew the roller coaster of diagnosis… treatment… remission… new diagnosis… more treatment. Sadly, Renee Grant lost her battle with cancer last December, but her memory lives on in the hearts and minds of this community. “Remembering Renee Grant” will be printed on this year’s Pink Arrow t-shirt. Because of the generous gift Renee made to Pink Arrow through her estate, her memory will be honored in this special way. Renee told the story of her cancer journey in our 2012 series of articles. At that time she wrote, “It started in 2007. I was an independent person and successful realtor, living a “normal” life with no history of health issues. It all changed one day when I found a lump under my arm…Three months of tests and a couple biopsies later, I was eventually diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a cancer of the immune system cells in your blood system (called lymphocytes.) It was an easily resolvable cancer, I was told; 85 percent cure rate. I went through rounds of chemo and radiation and went on about my business.” Renee’s cancer journey became more and more complicated. Not only did the original cancer return, but it was discovered that she also had Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. In the 2012 article, she wrote about the extensive treatments she endured. “That’s five years, five cancer diagnoses, about 45 rounds of radiation, seven biopsies, four series of chemo treatments, four rounds of Rituxam, a stem cell transplant, enough CT and PET scans to make me glow in the dark,

to do significant fundraising for Relay for Life and that was even before she knew that she, herself, would walk the cancer journey. Renee was enthused about Gilda’s Club coming to Lowell. She and Sharon hosted a kitchen shower at their home and Renee let her friends know that she expected them to give generously. Thanks to her efforts, the kitchen at Gilda’s Club was completely stocked in time for its grand opening. The financial success of the very first Pink Arrow game far exceeded what anyone could have hoped for. A “family support” fund was quickly established, allowing Pink Arrow to provide a financial gift to persons who are experiencing the cancer journey. The timing of Renee’s illness was such that she became one of the first persons to receive that gift. Her friends remember how she was “blown away” when she received that assistance; it became for her a symbol of the wonderful support that comes from the Lowell community. She was one of Pink Arrow’s most ardent supporters and quickly became a powerful spokesperson on behalf of Pink Arrow. An important part of Pink Arrow Pride week is the education about cancer that happens within the Lowell schools. Renee was invited to speak at an assembly so that students could learn about the reality of cancer. Renee told her story in a way that all of the students could relate to. One day she would be at the elementary school speaking to a gym full of youngsters and the next day she was speaking to hundreds of high school students, always adapting Renee’s story, continued, page 6

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Renee's story, continued

her message to the group before her. Though dealing with the realities of cancer, Renee remained positive and continued the activities that were important to her. She always had a large garden and preserved her own fruits and vegetables. She raised rabbits and chickens, providing her friends with fresh eggs. The final addition she made to her garden was blueberry bushes. The shipment of bushes had arrived during one of her many hospital stays and her friends offered to plant them for her. True to her nature, Renee insisted that she would do it when she returned home and those bushes are producing berries this season.

In the last months of their lives, Sharon and Renee each faced critical health issues. Sharon suffered from heart disease and it was determined that her only hope for survival was to receive a heart transplant. In the fall of 2013 Renee realized that something wasn’t right with her health and after many doctor visits and tests it was finally determined that the cancer was back with a vengeance. Sharon and Renee were each being treated by doctors in both Grand Rapids and Ann Arbor. There were times when one would be in the hospital here and the other in the University of Michigan Hospital—and sometimes they were hospitalized in Ann Arbor at the same time. In the final weeks of her life, Renee was receiving treatment at the U. of M. Hospital and Sharon, while waiting for a heart to become available, was being cared for in the home of her friends, Lan Hamilton and Lynn Wolbers. Many trips were made back and forth to Ann Arbor to be with Renee and she was surrounded by the love of family and friends when she came to the end of her life in early December 2014. That was on a Monday and just five days later Sharon received the call that a suitable donor heart was available. She needed to report immediately to the University Hospital for the transplant. She was in surgery all of Saturday, with family and friends anxiously waiting. Sadly, the transplant was not a success and Sharon passed away the next morning. Sharon and Renee had just marked the 19th anniversary of their relationship and now they were both gone within six days of each other. Throughout the years of her illness, Renee was determined that the cancer would not define who she was and how she lived her life. In her 2012 article she wrote this about her cancer journey: “I will face it all with the same determination as I have over the past five years. I feel fortunate that my friends, my family and my

community are there for me when I need them. I don’t quit; they don’t quit on me. I couldn’t have done it without them. So don’t give up on Pink Arrow. Thank you…for your support of the Pink Arrow Pride, helping people like me and others in your hometown on this journey every time you buy a Pink Arrow Pride t-shirt or contribute to this event.” As she faced the end of her life, Renee didn’t want her remains to be a burden to the earth. She had always loved the water and was a diver, so she pre-arranged to have her cremains placed in a reef that would be lowered into the ocean. The concrete reef, which carries a plaque in her memory, is designed so that fish can swim under and through it. During a ceremonial burial, the reef was lowered into the water off the coast of Florida and has now become a part of the ocean’s habitat. And, as Renee faced the end of her life, she knew that she wanted to leave one more message with this community—a message that would live beyond her death. Through naming Pink Arrow in her will, she modeled the kind of generous spirit that defined her life. Her gift will enable Pink Arrow to reach out to many additional families who know the cancer journey. In her gift, other families will find the kind of community support that meant so much to Renee.

And the winner is....

Robert Woldhuis, is pictured with Sherri Zandstra, office manager at Wittenbach GMC in Lowell, when he arrived to pick up his 2008 Yamaha V-Star 650 custom motorcyle. He placed the winning bid of $3,000 for the cycle that was donated to Pink Arrow Pride by the late Renee Grant.

Please consider Pink Arrow for your philanthropic giving.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Stacey Spencer

My name is Stacey (Shinabarger) Spencer and in the fall of 2014 at the age of 43 I was diagnosed with stage 1 ovarian cancer. In October 2014 I had an ultrasound done for some minor symptoms I was experiencing. My intuition (and a gentle nudge from my husband) was telling me to get things checked out more than the minor symptoms that I had experienced for a few months. After the ultrasound I went to see the gynecologist for the results of the ultrasound. I pretty much knew there was something going on with the left side from watching the technician do the ultrasound. The doctor confirmed that I had a cyst on the left side about 10 centimeters in size and that it needed to come out. He gave me options for having it removed. He could remove it and send it to the lab for testing or he could refer me to an oncologist to remove it. If the oncologist removed it they would test it during the surgery with a frozen test which is not 100 percent but is a quick test during surgery that gives them a pretty good idea if there is cancer. The oncologist would also send it to the lab for more thorough testing. He then sent me to the lab that Friday afternoon for blood work and said we would talk on Monday and I had the weekend to think about it and decide which doctor I would like to remove it. Saturday morning I received my blood work results on my Spectrum Health MyPage. My CA125 was elevated to 85. I was told it should be less than 35, but I was not overly concerned. The doctor had warned me that if it was slightly elevated it does not mean you have cancer, other things like inflammation can cause it to be elevated. Since it was not too high I did not panic. Of course I had to google it and read about it. Some patients are in the thousands so mine was pretty low. Over the weekend I spent all my hours trying to decide which doctor I would prefer to remove the cyst. I had decided Sunday to be referred to the oncologist. I wanted to wake up from surgery and have a good idea if I had cancer or not and the frozen test during surgery would tell me that, or so I thought. Monday morning at 8:30 am I received a call from the gynecologist that I had seen the previous Friday. He said he was not comfortable removing the cyst and was going to refer me to the oncologist. I didn’t really ask any questions and still wasn’t too concerned. I felt like he had just confirmed my choice of wanting the oncologist to remove it. A few days later I met with an oncologist at Lemmen-Holton Cancer Center and plans were made for removing the cyst. The oncologist and her team are absolutely wonderful and I would recommend them to anyone. It was decided

I would have the left ovary, fallopian tube and uterus removed. I had that surgery on November 10, 2014. I woke up to the news that the frozen test they did during surgery did not show cancer and I was relieved and ready to heal and move on. I felt very good after the surgery. The day after surgery I felt good enough to make a small dinner. Four days after surgery I sat at the Zeeland vs Lowell football game at Zeeland in frigid temps and lots of snow. I was under no circumstances missing that game as it was my son Brendan’s last high school football game. One week after surgery I went back to work part time working four hours a day from home. The following week, two weeks after surgery I returned to work full time in the office. I was shocked at how well I was feeling physically. I am thankful for the help of my sons when I was home even though I was feeling very good I had some restrictions and needed their help. Snow days the week of my surgery allowed them to be home instead of at school a couple days. Tuesday, the week of Thanksgiving, I had a surgery follow-up appointment with my oncologist. I was feeling great, back at work and drove myself to the appointment. The physician’s assistant examined me and said everything looked very good and she was impressed at how well I was doing and feeling. She said the dr. (surgeon/oncologist) will be in to see you soon. I questioned seeing the surgeon as I did not expect to see her and the PA replied, ”Yes, you are on her schedule today too.” I had no idea my world was about to change. The doctor walked in and asked me who I had brought with me today. I replied, “Nobody,” and she asked, “Is there anyone we could get on the phone?” to which I asked, “Is there a reason we need to?” She then broke the news that there had been a surprise Stacey’s story, continued, page 53

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A community fighting cancer

Stacey's story, continued

and Noah for the chaos my brain fog has caused all of you. The teenage boys took it pretty well in February when I sent them to the dentist for their cleanings a year early! I know where you will be February 2, 2016! Better to be early than late, right? That mistake cost me a trip to Spoonlicker’s. When Pink Arrow asked me to share my story with the community I was hesitant. I feel guilty that my journey began in October 2014 and I was cancer free by the end of December 2014, actually I was cancer free on November 11, 2014 as I later figured out. It was short and I had very little suffering compared to so many others. I didn’t put it together in my head until about May 2015 that at the time I was told I had cancer on November 25, 2014, I was actually already cancer free. Nobody actually told me I was cancer free until I asked the question on January 7, 2015. One day in May it just occurred to me that the cancer was removed on November 10, 2014 and when they did the blood work on December 19, 2014, I was back in the normal range. I was cancer free at the time of the second surgery but I hadn’t figured that out yet. The doctor had not told me I was cancer free because she wanted to do additional testing during the second surgery. I feel like there are so many people in our community who have suffered and fought such long difficult fights that my story is very minimal. I want my story to bring hope and encouragement to others. You can-cer vive! Cancer is not automatically a death sentence like we sometimes think when we hear that word. It isn’t always a long fought battle, a lot of treatments, surgeries, losing your hair and not feeling good. This short journey with cancer has allowed me to get back on my feet and now I can join the fight against cancer fighting for those that are having a more difficult journey and need the support of others. Cancer has also been a gift to me. You learn from your struggles, you gain strength. I now have a lot more compassion for those going through difficult times. I am learning to slow down and try to focus on the more important things in life. I have a lot more to learn and will continue learning but cancer made me take a time out and think about life. I have supported the Pink Arrow from day one and will continue to support them. I plan to volunteer at the Pink Arrow Community Day in August [and] hope to see you there. I have lived in the Lowell community my entire life and I consider that a blessing. It is a great feeling and comforting to know that you have an entire community standing behind you when you are going through a difficult time. Our sons have been in Lowell schools their entire lives. Our son Brendan has worn two Pink Arrow jerseys while he was a junior and senior at Lowell High School. In 2013 he wore the jersey for his grandmother, my mother-in-law, who was diagnosed with colon cancer in May 2013 and died less than six weeks from diagnosis; she never returned to her home after being diagnosed. Pink Arrow is always an emotional game but when your family is directly affected by cancer the game is even more touching. The game in 2013 was that game for my family. In 2014 he wore the

pink jersey for his great aunt, my dad’s sister, who passed away from breast cancer in 1996; Brendan had never met her. Our other son, Noah, is also a Pink Arrow supporter, wearing the pink t-shirt every year. In the early years of the Pink Arrow he painted his face and hair pink for one of the games. A radio station stopped him and asked him questions while at the Pink Arrow game. That brief interview is online and Noah will be forever in pink in the internet world. My cancer was slow growing and my doctor can’t tell me how long I had it before it was discovered. In 2014 while our son was on the field in his pink jersey I did have the cancer but did not know it. Watching the game I was so proud of him, the team and the entire community and I never thought I would experience Pink Arrow as a cancer patient. No matter what the scoreboard of a Pink Arrow game shows, Lowell always wins that game! If my memory is correct I don’t think Lowell has ever lost a Pink Arrow game on the scoreboard. Three months after the 2014 game I was contacted by Pink Arrow and have experienced the love and caring of the Lowell Community. At some point in our lives everybody experiences cancer. You may have a friend, family member, coworker, neighbor, or someone else in your life who fights cancer or it may be yourself. I encourage everyone to support Pink Arrow in any way that you are able. There are so many ways to support the event whether it be financially or with your time. It is an amazing feeling living in such a caring community. For many people and students the Pink Arrow event is a week-long event or maybe just a one-day event the day of the game. But there are a lot of people behind the scenes who work on Pink Arrow all year long. I would like to thank those loving, caring individuals for all that they do; they are making a difference in so many lives. Pink Arrow does so much for our community and if we all pitch in a little we as a community can make a big difference. It takes a community to kick cancer out of our lives. Our children have been experiencing Pink Arrow since they were in elementary school. It has taught them about caring, giving, supporting others, etc…. Pink Arrow is helping us to raise generations of caring people. The Pink Arrow games have encouraged other communities to do similar type games whether it is for cancer or another cause. A special thanks to my husband Charles who stays by my side and always reminds me I am going to be fine. He is my positivity when I feel negative. Our wedding colors 21 years ago were purple (has always been my favorite color) and teal. Ironically my cancer colors are also purple (gynecological cancer) and teal (ovarian cancer). I guess it is purple, teal and Pink Arrow forever! I have experienced Pink Arrow as a community supporter, a football parent whose son wore pink jerseys in memory of a loved one and this year I am excited to experience Pink Arrow as a survivor! Pink Arrow on, we can do this together!

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Rachell VanVeelen My story or journey rather began with those three short, but memorable words, “you have cancer!” Everything in my life changed after that. To all my fellow cancer survivors and fighters out there, I am sure you can relate. My name is Rachell VanVeelen. I live in Lowell with my husband Brian and my two sons, Carson and Spencer. In 2008 when the Pink Arrow Pride first began I too was beginning a journey that would change me and my family forever. While performing a self-breast exam, I found a lump in my right breast. I have a family history of breast and ovarian cancer, so I set up an appointment right away. My physician sent me on to have an ultrasound which led to a biopsy to the right breast mass. When I received the phone call that my biopsy results returned cancerous I was in shock. How could I, at the age of 31 years old have breast cancer? What did I do wrong? Am I going to die? All these thoughts and fears entered my head right away. The weeks that followed did so in a flurry. After several meetings with surgeons, oncologists and radiation oncologists, my husband and I decided that a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction was the best way to hopefully eradicate the cancer and minimize the chance for reoccurrence. After the surgery I met with my oncologist to discuss my diagnosis and plan of care. I was told I had stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma with negative lymph node involvement. The plan was for me to take a daily pill to decrease the hormones in my body for the next five years, CBCs (blood work) and regular scheduled appointments with the oncologists. I was told no further testing was needed and decided to seek most of my medical needs through my primary care physician thereafter. The Pink Arrow Pride thrived through the years that followed and so did I. Every year the Pink Arrow Pride showed me I was not alone in my fight and I did not have to hide or be embarrassed. I saw what a community can accomplish together for the greater good and I felt so fortunate to be a part of it. I have made so many wonderful friends, met with and spoken to women about my experience and theirs, spent time focusing on positives and less about negatives and truly learned that life is a gift to enjoy! This past spring I had pain in my left hip that was getting worse. As a nurse, I was working twelve-hour night shifts and was hardly able to walk without pain, so I went onto my primary care physician. I was told I more than likely had bursitis because nothing was seen on the x-ray, was put on prednisone and was going to initiate physical therapy. I do not know why exactly, but I felt the need to contact my oncologist office. After a complete history and physical she ordered a bone scan for my hip pain. She also ordered a brain MRI because I had been having headaches and migraines. On the morning of May 12th 2015, I received a phone call from an unknown number to me and on the other line I heard those three, little but powerful words, “You have cancer.” I was told that my brain had a two cm mass in my right parietal lobe and the tissue appearance indicates it is breast cancer. I was quickly started on a strong steroid called Decadron to decrease swelling that was seen in my brain. The following week I had a CT scan of my whole body which revealed two more masses, one in my right lower lung and another in my left upper lung. A lung biopsy was quickly scheduled and

confirmed that the masses in my lungs were indeed breast cancer. Once the results all came in I met with my oncologist again. I asked, “How can I have breast cancer in my brain and lungs?” I could not seem to grasp it. She stated that by the time I had found my lump in my right breast in 2008 that the breast cancer had already spread elsewhere. So for the last almost seven years I have had this cancer in my body and was unaware until odd symptoms, like my hip pain and headaches started to surface. Since this re-diagnosis I have asked myself several times, would I have had wanted to know it was there then? My answer is no. I am glad I did not know so I was able to live freely and so very thankful for that time with my family. So here I am today, stage IV metastatic breast cancer! I wanted to share my story with the Lowell community ….to inform and help others….to let others know that they are not alone in their cancer journey. I share my story…..for all who are battling this terrible disease but especially to the many young women who are not aware that breast cancer, or any cancer, can affect ANYONE at ANY AGE. I share my story… to encourage women and men who have cancer to love themselves and to surround themselves with as many people as they can. I share my story….. to encourage all of us to continue to fight and not stop fighting until a cure for cancer is found. I share my story….to offer support to anyone who may be dealing with the same situation as me and my family. So why do I share my story? Most importantly, I share my story for my family, my friends and myself. To remind me of who I was before my cancer journey and who I am now as I continue on my journey for as long as God allows. Quick note…I would like to thank the Lowell community and Pink Arrow Pride for the generous gift card that was given to me and my family; it is very much appreciated. I would also like to thank Dan at Modern Photography for taking our family photo. I would also like to thank Don Reedy who helped us sell our home and move into our new home seamlessly and another thanks to all my other many family and friends for their love and support.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Debra Moody

No one is immune to the human condition. We all have ups, downs, joy, sorrow, laughter, tears……all of us have a story. My story is too long to tell here, all of the chapters that make me who I am and add up to the sum of my life. So I will share just one with you, one of the best and worst. It is the story of my journey through cancer land. Thankfully, it is right around the corner from the Pink Arrow nation.

It started in January of 2014 when I found a lump. An ultrasound revealed it to be a cyst and since it was not causing any problems did not require treatment. When I went in for my annual well woman exam in May, it was still there. I was sent for a routine mammogram in June and received a call the next day requesting I come back as the results were abnormal. On July 7, I went to the Lemmen Holten Cancer Pavilion (LHCP) for thermography. That was quickly followed by an ultrasound and a biopsy. The cyst was still there but this time it had a companion. The cyst was drained and the suspicious tissue next to it was biopsied. I had questions. How many of these do you do a day? Nine. How many result in a diagnosis? Three. How many doctors do you have here to do this? Two. That meant I was one of 18 women getting biopsied that day and of those, six were going to get poor results. As soon as I got in the car, I started to cry. I was devastated to hear those numbers. So many women. I was working from home the following afternoon when I got ‘the call.’ All I heard was you have invasive ductal carcinoma. Cancer. I hung up the phone, dropped to my knees and cried. Within minutes, I dialed my husband, Bill and told him the news. He came home and we both cried. We didn’t wait long to tell the kids. We have three and all are grown thankfully. Yes, they cried too. We were all in a bit of shock. Mine was the third diagnosis of cancer in our family in less than a year. I had just recently lost my dad to an aggressive thyroid cancer two months before and my father-in-law was in the midst of treatment for lung cancer. I wasn’t sure where to start with getting help so I went online and found information about the Spectrum Health Multi-Specialty Team (MST). I called the next day and made an appointment. I also made an appointment with the surgeon I knew I wanted. Less than two weeks after the biopsy and I was back at LHCP. Bill and I spent most of the day there and saw a surgeon, oncologist, radiation oncologist, genetics counselor, health navigator and social worker. It was overwhelming to cover all the bases in one day, but it was what I needed. The pathology results from the biopsy showed an

aggressive cancer and it was stage 2 based on size. A treatment plan was made and blood was drawn for genetic testing. I saw my surgeon of choice the next day who agreed with the plan. I started my treatment with neo-adjuvant chemotherapy. I had a port placed in my chest and was in the infusion chair within eight days of my rounds with the MST. The genetic test came back negative which was a major relief. The thought of passing this on to my kids was terrifying. It also meant that having breast conserving surgery was a good option. I had the lumpectomy in December and had my port removed at the same time. My surgery lasted much longer than expected. They found a positive lymph node and performed an axillary dissection. I woke up to find two new large scars. One for the tumor and one for the chunk of flesh from under my arm that was being dissected to determine if the cancer had spread to other lymph nodes. It had, but not by much. There was just one more and it was microscopic. I had a month to heal before starting radiation at the end of January. During that time I developed axillary web syndrome. A painful condition that caused cording in my arm and rib cage and limited my range of motion. I started therapy immediately and was lucky to have success in getting it resolved. Radiation started next and lasted until mid-March. I was finally done! Except I wasn’t. A PET scan in April showed that the cancer had spread. I was now at stage 4. Happy birthday to me. I had just turned 44 a few days before. Finding out I had cancer was like entering a time warp. Everything happened so fast but I couldn’t get it over with fast enough. Then I found out it had spread and I was never going to get it over with. My oncologist had already told me that if I had a recurrence or if the cancer spread, there was no cure. I am back to treatments with chemotherapy with the goal of stabilizing the disease. I will be in treatment for the rest of my life. How long will that be? No one can say for sure. Statistically, the average is about a year. I am hopeful that I am not average. There is more to this story than just a timeline with stops along the way for tests and treatments. The bigger story is what I have learned during my trip through this treacherous land of cancer. The most surprising thing to me is how lucky I am. Yes, you read that right. As unfortunate as my circumstances are, I am so grateful for what I have. My life is filled with wonderful people that have provided tremendous support, family, friends, coworkers, healthcare providers and even complete strangers. People who send me cards, make me dinner, spend time listening, give me hugs, and tell me they care. I have felt well enough to continue to work full time and am so fortunate to be part of a great team of people who let me know I am valued. My husband is incredible. His love and care for me is beyond anything I can capture with words. He, too, has a wonderful network of support that I am so thankful for. My kids have been great at sharing their feelings along with their hugs. I have learned that I am truly loved. I don’t take it for granted. I have also learned that I am stronger than I thought. I keep getting up every day and living as if I will be here tomorrow. What is the point of me telling you this part of my story? What will you do with it? I hope that you will take a moment to be grateful for the good things in your life and the bad things, too, if they taught you something. Take a moment to let someone know you care about them. Take a moment to appreciate a community that supports individuals and families in a way that has touched a nation. Take a moment to support a cause that makes a difference.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Jeffrey Mogenthaler Hi. My name is Jeffery Morgenthaler. I have been asked to tell you my story. On October 2, 2013, my wife Barbara died. She went into the hospital to have surgery. After three days in the hospital she lapsed into a coma. The medical team went to extraordinary measures to save her life. The neurosurgeon told us that the MRI showed signs of what they determine to be brain damage. That likely was the reason she failed to respond to any stimulus. He could not be sure if she could hear us or understand what we were saying. Unhappily, on her fourth day in the coma the attending physician informed us that my wife’s heart was slowing and her body was getting only 50 percent of the 94 percent oxygen they were administering. The doctor gave my wife two to maybe three days to live. Knowing my wife’s wishes, my daughter and I decided it was time to let her go. It was now in the hands of the Creator. We stepped out of her room while the medical team removed her breathing tube and electrodes that were attached to her body. When we re-entered the room we took up our positions beside her. While I held my wife’s hand my daughter and I reassured her that we would take care of each other. And it was okay for her to seek her eternal rest. My wife cried a single tear. Had she heard us? Had she understood the heartbreaking decision we had to make? I was so overwhelmed I had to leave her bedside. My daughter took up my position. My wife’s unblinking, unmoving eyes seemed to be focused on the ceiling light above her head. My daughter stroked her mother’s cheek while she gently sung “Down by the Boardwalk” to her. My wife’s eyelids slowly closed. If my daughter stopped stroking her mother’s cheek her eyelids would open. So I encouraged my daughter to continue, for it was comforting her mother. My wife’s eyes close and she cries a single tear for my daughter. She was telling us goodbye. A couple of minutes later an attending nurse comes in and tells us my wife has passed on. I consider myself lucky to be with her in her final moments of life on this earth. Many people don’t get that opportunity. I kept myself busy for the first year, not wanting to accept my loss. Then grief struck real hard. The days all seemed dark, even when the sun was shining. How could anyone understand the pain and loneliness I was feeling. I had lost my best friend of 38 years. It was as if half of me was missing. For it was. I lost all motivation. What was the use? What was the sense of doing anything? Grief is a solitary journey. It is different for each and every one of us. Whether you lose a grandparent, parent, sibling, child or spouse, a person’s journey through grief is individual. I am not qualified to tell another person “I know how you feel” when they have lost a loved one. For I cannot know the relationship, the closeness that person had with the one they have lost. But I do know there is pain. In life we make our plans. From the birth of our children, to summer vacations, birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, retirement, and then there is death. Unhappily, death can come along at any time. We are never ready for death. So the plans for retirement my wife and I had made were nothing more than dust in the wind. There would be no more vacations to

plan, no more birthdays or anniversaries to celebrate. It seemed the clock had stopped. The only anniversary to celebrate was the day my wife died. What was I to do? I saw an advertisement in the Ledger for Gilda’s Club. The advertisement said if you were dealing with grief

to come on in. I thought Gilda’s Club was only for those dealing with cancer. I was wrong. Gilda’s Club deals with so many things. Grief being one of those things. What did I have to lose? I am so grateful we have a Gilda’s Club in Lowell. The Grief group at Gilda’s helps members find their way. We listen to the highs and lows each of us experienced during the week. We discover that we too may be confronted with the same experience. There is no road map or timetable for grief. I find Gilda’s a comforting place. We get to honor the memories of the ones we have lost. From the husband and father that had to leave his family too soon, to the mothers and wives that will watch her children grow up without her. Or the parents of a child lost that can only dream of what might have been. What we would give for another day, an hour, even a minute to have the ones we’ve lost. But it is not meant to be in this world. I tell you my story not to make you sad. Our grief can be overwhelming. Paralyzing at times. You are not alone. I don’t have any answers. But know there is a place where you will be welcomed with open arms and open hearts. And maybe Gilda’s Club can make your journey through grief a little more bearable. And so I realize there are many travelers on this journey. Yet we are all taking our own paths. I will keep my wife in my heart and in my memories. And while she has gone away, I know she walks beside me on this path. For all those dealing with grief may your path lead you to Gilda’s Club. I would like to thank Gilda’s Club of Lowell and the Lowell Pink Arrow Pride for letting me tell you my story.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Angie Gildea It will be 24 years ago this fall that I would be on the sidelines at Birch Field cheering on the Lowell Red Arrow varsity football team. As we all know, Lowell football didn’t have the hype it does today, but one thing was for sure, the entire Lowell community consistently showed up to pack the stands every Friday night. Whether the team had a winning or a losing season, the stands were always full. Being a cheerleader for a community like this will always hold a special place for me. Even though I would eventually move away from this community, I still consider Lowell my home. On March 10 of this year my life would dramatically change and I would embark on a journey that has become both a blessing and a curse. I was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer with metastases to my liver. Last fall I had been struggling with a somewhat irritating upset stomach, which I just chalked up to being a busy mom in the heat of my busy season at work. After a visit to my primary care physician it was highly likely I would end up with my gallbladder out. The next day I would go in for an ultrasound but nothing was found. My PCP ordered a nuclear scan to get a clearer picture and that too came back normal. At this point I just told myself it was probably in my head and eventually the upset stomach would subside. I also was experiencing some blood in my stool, but that had been happening for quite a few years and [I] was told it was internal hemorrhoids, which are very common for us women over 40. It would be another month before I realized that things were just not getting better. The upset stomachs were daily and becoming somewhat debilitating and the blood in my stool was increasing. My PCP suggested a referral to a gastroenterologist and thought a colonoscopy should be ordered. I met with the gastro doctor and he didn’t seem to be too worried but thought a colonoscopy might at least give us some answers. I would wake up from the colonoscopy to my worst nightmare. All I heard the doctor say was large tumor and colon cancer. Wait! What? Colon cancer? I am only 41 years old and have no family history. This can’t be! Unfortunately the photo of my colon put in front of me would validate what he was saying. It didn’t look

normal at all. He said the mass had likely been growing for ten years and would have started as a small polyp. The next week would be a complete blur. Telling family and friends, going to and from the hospital for scans and blood work [ups] became overwhelming very quickly. The initial colonoscopy indicated I just had colon cancer, a scan later that week would reveal four tumors on my liver. Stage IV! It all happened so quickly. The next month we would be inundated with cards, meals and many well wishes. I am still in awe of the blessings we have received the last four months. One of the most significant gifts was a card I received with the return address ‘Pink Arrow Pride,’ it was a beautiful card written by Teresa Beachum extending a monetary gift from the Lowell community. Until this point I had tried not to get very emotional when opening cards, but this one got me. We have supported Pink Arrow as a family in the past but never would I have imagined being a recipient. Even though we moved away from Lowell it was apparent that this community still takes care of their own. The last four months have been quite the journey. To date, I have undergone six rounds of chemotherapy and a colon resection to remove my tumor. The chemotherapy (as much as I hate it) is doing its job and shrinking the tumors in my liver. I am scheduled for my liver resection this fall which will remove anywhere from a half to a third of my liver, followed by more chemo. I am very positive about my prognosis and look forward to life as a survivor of colorectal cancer. PLEASE, if you are over 50 and have not had a colonoscopy, use my story as a reason to place the call and schedule one. It was an honor to cheer at Lowell for my Red Arrows, but it is even more of an honor to be cheered on by a community team that offers such profound support in so many ways. Thank you for ‘packing’ the stands for me. Proud to be a Red Arrow – always!

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Kim Schwacha

Hi, my name is Kim Schwacha and I am the luckiest guy in the world. I’ve always been lucky (with the exception of the bumble bee in the shorts thing when I was eight years old). But, I digress and here is our story. It is more than a story of symptoms, tests, treatments and such. It is more a story of hope, love, support, determination, appreciation and the ability to keep an eye on the prize. Appreciative of the fact that I was born in a time and place of unparalleled freedoms, where 20 miles down the road you will find world class technology and facilities used in the fight against cancer and many other diseases, in a small town where the Pink Arrow Pride was born and has impacted not only Lowell, but communities throughout the state and even across the nation. It’s a fact that we could just as easily, if not for the grace of God, been born in some desolate, impoverished village in some third world country. But it was 2014, I was born and living in Lowell, Michigan and married to my gal Beth. This is how the conversation went with the ENT specialist who initially detected the mass in my throat and was now ready to give us the results of the biopsy. Dr. Spoon – “Well Kim, the second biopsy (the first one, which I refer to as the jagged spoon biopsy, was inconclusive) revealed that it IS in fact cancer.” Kim – “Just so I know, uh…..what stage is it?” Dr. Spoon – “Oh its stage 4,” he said matter of factly. Kim – “Should I go sky diving?” Dr. Spoon – “No, net yet.” 48 HOURS EARLIER: Beth – “I do.” Kim – “I do.” Now bear with me as I set the table. Finally, after somewhere just shy of 40 years of wanting the woman, I snagged her! She was my high school sweetheart. You know the one. The whole time when things were not so good or even when things were really good, she was always on the radar. That constant blip on the screen. Every once in a great while, when the moon, stars and lack of relationships would line up, we would get together, maybe have a date or two and sooner or later I would utter something on the line of, “Sooooo, do you maybe think that we could, uh, you know, maybe have a shot at a long-term relationship?” I am telling you NO LIE, she would look at me, crinkle her nose, look away for a bit, then look back, tilt her head and hesitate for what seemed like hours and then say, “No, I don’t think so.” Finally with desperation dripping from my forehead, I went old school and penned “the letter” on some old brown, antique store parchment paper and sent it off in an envelope for what I assumed would be another soul crushing response. But it made her laugh and it made her cry and now she was mine. Us guys get it. A woman can only say “no” to a hunk a hunk a burnin’ love for just so long. (Kim drops his pen and walks away.) Now, 48 hours later, we get the cancer diagnosis, stage 4 squamous cell carcinoma throat cancer to boot. Are you kidding me? Never getting cancer would be fine with me, but getting it and getting it now? Geez! Cruel, unusual, devastating.

Those of you who know me, understand that I can spend a lot of time in my own little, happy world. A world with lots of butterflies, puppies and giggling babies. Therefore, it will come as no surprise that within eight hours of being diagnosed with stage 4 throat cancer, I had figured out how to beat it. I would stay true to myself. Leave anger at the front door, cancel the pity party and keep my sense of humor. I compared cancer to a bully. Bullies enjoy and gain strength from the reaction of anger and pain they get from their victims. Many times if the person being bullied doesn’t show these negative emotions, a bully will leave. So if I follow that mind set and just laugh it off, cancer will leave, right? Good thought Kim, but just a bit naïve. Humor (from my mother) gets a place at the table but your gonna need more than just that. So who else got a seat at the table? Beth, my wife and caregiver. My father’s WWII, four battle star guts and determination to stay alive and come home. Support from my family and friends. Support from my community in the form of the Pink Arrow Pride. The medical community in the form of my awesome doctors. Incredible friends who championed a more natural treatment/ lifestyle. My dog T-bone. What would the world be like without dogs? When support from family and friends came upon us like a tsunami, advice from our friends, the Drapers, kept ringing in my ears. “When someone wants to help you with something, don’t let your pride get in the way. Allow them to help. The reason they asked is because they care. Take the help.” They should know, they have lived this cancer journey. Another instance of easier said than done, especially for us guys. But we took the help and are glad we did. The support we received, both emotionally and financially, was truly humbling. As an example, our friends, the Schaefers, started a fundraiser for us and raised an amazing amount of money. Kim’s story, continued, page 44

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Kim's story, continued

But it was more than the money that meant the most to us. It was the fact that so many people cared enough to respond. With support comes strength. Strength gives you determination. The determination gives you the focus to keep your eye on the prize. Then there are the folks of the Pink Arrow Pride. Wow. It’s no surprise to anyone that this cancer thing is painful in many ways, physically, emotionally and financially. So when Teresa Beachum called and asked if we could use some assistance in the form of a prepaid card, we were caught a little off guard but righted ourselves and happily accepted. How cool is that? It wasn’t just us either. I believe they helped 80 something other families in 2014 also. How many other communities have that kind of support? So here we go, seven weeks of gullet frying radiation, five days a week with once a week chemo. Even after the treatments are finished, relief is still weeks away. Can’t swallow so you have to have a feeding tube. All the while, Beth was there listening to me whine like a little baby, remembering what I forgot, forgetting what I remembered and yet that pretty face was there in the end. “No place I’d rather be,” she would say. I can’t believe she came back into my life when I needed her the most. I would like to say something that may surprise some of you. Good things can come from cancer. You may be thinking a few things right now. a) “Are you drinking again Kim?” b) “Was that a butterfly I just saw come flying out of your backside?” c) “Tell me more.” Okay, I will. You might find out that many more people care for you than you thought. You may rekindle old friendships that had somehow slipped to the side. You may learn a thing or two about yourself (like how strong you can be when you need to be). You may become closer and appreciate the people in your life just a bit more. You can feel the support of the community. You may decide to take up that cause that is so important to you but you may not have acted on. You may feel a heightened sense of appreciation of the world around you and the little things in life. For example, when your dog is bouncing off the wall because he wants to go for a ride in the car, take the mutt with you. Heck, he gives you unconditional love and only lives for eight or nine years, so what the heck. (Had a Great Dane, now a Bullmastiff.) Take the puppy for a ride! Or it’s late and you can see the fireflies outside but you’re tired and it’s time to go to bed. Just put your big girl panties on and go outside and enjoy the show. There are countless other little things that somehow gain a bit of clarity once you’ve gotten in the ring with the bully. All of that said I still would like to say to cancer, “Don’t let the door hit you on the backside on the way out.”

Before I bid you adieu, I would like to thank all of the caregivers who have ridden shotgun on one of these journeys. What would we do without you? You are the reason that many of us are still here. You are the true heroes and we love you for what you do and who you are. There is no way on God’s green earth you get the recognition you deserve. So as I sit on my pontoon with a bass minnow on my line, thinking really bad things about me, I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes. A quote from Stuart Scott who was an anchor for ESPN for many years and just recently passed after a long, long battle with cancer. Take us home Stuart… “You beat cancer by how you live, why you live and in the manner in which you live.” P.S. Shelby Offrink – Looks like you won honey. P.S.S. – Fish on!

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Judy Strehlau-Ward

My breast cancer journey began on December 10, 2000, with a confirmation phone call from my surgeon, announcing that my lumpectomy showed the tumor was cancerous. Invasive lobular carcinoma, stage 1, grade 2. This call came 12 days before my 43rd birthday and 15 days before Christmas. My reason for having a lumpectomy at this stage of my journey was just simply to remove the growth, whether it was cancerous or not. When the call ended I went into a panic mode for about five minutes. I then collected myself and called my husband. All the while my thoughts were with our two daughters, ages ten and seven. I just wanted to be a healthy mother and see them grow into beautiful young women. Several days before Christmas I had a lymph node dissection in the “fat pad” of my right armpit where 23 lymph nodes were removed. The report came back that no cancer cells had spread beyond the tumor site. A positive sign! My oncologist suggested my course of treatment to include four rounds of chemotherapy, six-and-a-half weeks of radiation, followed by five years of tamoxifen (an oral cancer drug). The chemotherapy was included in my regiment of treatment since my mother and her sister both had breast cancer. I did take about one week to consider this treatment option and along with my husband’s support, I decided to trust in my oncologist’s recommendation for this “plan of attack.” My chemotherapy regiment was not as terrible as I had expected. I know this sounds strange because the “cocktail” of chemicals are very harsh on your physical and mental being. I never felt sick after each treatment due to the antinausea medication given prior to my cocktail. This application did leave me feeling very anxious but lasted only for a few days after each treatment. My hair loss wasn’t an issue. It would grow back. I just wish it wasn’t during the coldest part of the winter season. Now I understand how bald men feel. The main issue I had with chemotherapy was that it left me feeling “off,” not feeling my normal everyday self. The best way I can explain it to you is that I felt like I was coming down with a very bad cold but it never surfaced. This feeling carried with me throughout my twelve weeks of treatment and once the chemotherapy was completed, so was that “off” feeling. The only issue I had with the radiation treatment was the long drive into Grand Rapids every day, five days per week. Near the end of the treatment I was feeling a little tired and redness occurred underneath my right breast, but those were minor issues. The drug tamoxifen, as all other drugs, does have its side effects and I was not immune to some of them. I did have problems with tightness in my calf muscles when going for power walks, so I

just learned to slow down my pace. The positive side with this medication was my cholesterol levels lowered, significantly. Over Labor Day weekend of 2014 my right hand and arm were stung by two bees. I was tending one of my flower gardens not even realizing there was a nest of bees in the ground not two feet away from me. As soon as I was stung I applied baking soda to my arm which stopped the throbbing. What I didn’t realize was another bee had stung the top of my hand - it somehow got into my glove. It wasn’t until I took off my glove that I noticed a red dot. I knew immediately this would be trouble. My hand, not my arm, endured significant swelling. This went on for several weeks. My family physician prescribed prednisone, which brought the swelling down, but not completely. This complication came about because of the surgery I had to remove some of the lymph nodes from my right armpit. It is called lymphedema. This condition is commonly caused by the removal of or damage to your lymph nodes as part of your cancer treatment. It results from a blockage, in your lymphatic system, which is part of your immune system. The blockage prevents lymph fluid from draining well and the fluid buildup leads to swelling. I experienced light to moderate swelling in my right hand, aching and discomfort, and a restricted grip hold and range of motion. I have received physical therapy from a certified lymphedema therapist and do a regiment of exercises to ease the swelling. I also wear a compression glove and arm sleeve. I am now 14-and-a-half years in remission but I am forever on my cancer journey. There are constant reminders: the surgical scars along with the psychological scars. There are days when you may have a pain somewhere in your body and you can’t help but think Judy’s story, continued, page 50

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Bill Schreur

My name is Bill Schreur and this is my journey with cancer, my journey of faith. I was born and raised in Vergennes Township to William and JoAnne Schreur and grew up on Bailey Dr. I lived a pretty care free life growing up and all of my basic needs were met by my parents. My Mom always instilled in me the importance of having a relationship with God but until my “journey” I can say I had never truly been tested to the core of my being. My Dad had always instilled in me a strong work ethic, the love of nature, trees and wildlife. He also led me into the home building trade which I am still engaged to this day. I consider myself an average guy, far from perfect. I always thought I was pretty healthy overall. I do not smoke or drink and I rarely went to the doctor for checkups. At 49, I felt good, appeared healthy and figured I was bulletproof-- no plans for a physical any time soon. I planned out my life ahead of me in decades. Cancer was for risk takers and the unhealthy---at least I thought this. Sure, my occupation exposed me to limited amounts of solvents, dust and chemicals, but nothing I felt any other person in my trade did not endure. In the spring of 2012, I was walking out to our workshop to begin my day seemingly like all the others, when I felt a wet sensation in my throat. “Strange, I said to myself, this does not feel like mucus but more like water.” A fleeting thought it could be blood left my mind as quick as it had entered....and seconds later I began coughing up blood. I summoned (yes yelled at) Brenda, my wife of 26 years to get me into the hospital ASAP. This bleeding episode only happened once (ever). Think about it. As one can imagine all of the tests you can think of began. The day came when the doctor and nurse walked in together, both looking at me with the clipboard in hand. I sensed I had the challenge of my life before they even said a word. I had a cancerous tumor about 2 centimeters in my right lung and the CT scan also indicated I had something indicative of cancer going on in my thyroid. My lung doctor told me if I had cancer in my thyroid and it was the same type that was in my lung that they would probably

scrub any operation and go straight to chemotherapy or radiation. I can’t remember his exact words, but if they had to go one of those routes it really didn’t matter to me anyway. A subsequent biopsy determined that there was cancer in my right thyroid, and the left side did not look like it should be saved. The good news was it Bill’s story, continued, page 51

Judy's story, continued that your cancer has returned. Other cancer patients I have talked with feel this same way. This sounds cliché but forever keeping a positive attitude has helped me in my healing process. I became a member of Gilda’s Club Lowell because I needed to feel connected to others who were also going on their cancer journey. You become part of a family. You laugh, cry, share new cancer information, but most important of all, you share a bond, a connection with others on their own journey. Our group discussions don’t always have to be centered on cancer. We are free to discuss any topics. Gilda’s Club Lowell offers a Breast Cancer Support Group

and an Adult Cancer Support Group. I attend both of these and have found that everyone who attends has a unique perspective regarding their own cancer journey. I always leave these meetings with a positive outlook and glad to have gathered with friends and shared stories. Gilda’s Club’s mission is to provide free emotional healthcare to children, adults, families and friends on any kind of cancer journey or those grieving the death of someone in their life due to any cause. Along with being a member I am also a mentor. As a mentor I am available to anyone who wishes to talk about their own cancer journey. I consider myself to being a very good listener.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Betty Morlock

My cancer journey began on December 30, 2013, when I thought I had the flu because I felt terrible and was throwing up, but when it turned into a massive amount of blood we knew something was not quite right. So off to the hospital we went and after a few days of being poked, prodded and having an endoscopy procedure done they found an ulcer that did not look so good and they took a biopsy and sent it to the lab to find out if it was cancerous. As my strength started building from losing so much blood I was sent home. We were hoping to get the biopsy results before I left, but oh well, that is the way the cookie crumbles. And, of course, no sooner than we got home that day my husband received the telephone call from the hospital saying the biopsy showed I had adenocarcinoma cancer, which in laymen terms means stomach or gastric cancer. I have to admit, I was not overly shocked by the diagnosis being I lost my mother to cancer when I was twenty one, my father some thirty years later and my oldest grandson, Tyler, had cancer at age four but he is doing just fine at 6’2” and is very handsome. I also lost two of my four siblings in the past seven years to cancer, not to mention many aunts and uncles who also had cancer. I guess that is why I bought an Aflac cancer insurance policy when I first started at the city in 1988 and thank God I did because I do not know how people make it financially without additional insurance when you are fighting cancer. Now this is when the real madness began…because I was at Spectrum Downtown Hospital all my doctors, appointments, tests, chemo treatments, radiation and so on took place at the LemmenHolton Cancer Pavilion, which is a good thing because it is a fantastic facility. You have valet parking at no charge and when you are in the middle of your treatment that is such a blessing because you are so weak. That was the only place I had to go, I mean everything was right there! I met with my surgeon and was told that they would have to remove some of my stomach but until they get me in surgery, he was not sure about how much would be removed. I had two ways to look at this. First I could panic, thinking I am going into major surgery and having a portion of my stomach removed…poor Betty. Or I could think by having a portion of my stomach removed, means it is going to be a smaller stomach. Then afterwards, Betty would not eat as much as she usually does, so maybe poor Betty would lose some weight. Because we all know, Betty could handle losing some weight, so I call it my silver lining in a cloud. Well I ended up having surgery on January 24, 2014 and they had to remove one third of my stomach and because they found some cancer in my lympnode, chemo and radiation was needed. The surgeon also had the foresight to put a feeding tube

in my stomach, just in case it was needed…and it was! I was in the hospital for seven days and when I was released I went to stay with my daughter Jamie’s family so she could take care of me. My husband Sam had no problems with this. Sam is a fantastic husband and friend but a nurse he is not, nor did he want to be, so this arrangement was fine for all of us. In March I had my port put in so I could start my chemo and radiation. My chemo schedule was one whole day of chemo through my port at Lemmen-Holton then fourteen days of taking four big pills in the morning and four big pills at night, and I mean big pills. Then I would have a week off and then do it again. After my first two rounds of chemo I had five weeks of radiation, a week off and two more rounds of chemo…done. But during this time I had several trips to the ER and extra nights at the hospital, you know, things like your feeding tube coming out, an infection and on and on. But you know I was very blessed to have this while being a resident of the community of Lowell and working for the city of Lowell. City manager Mark Howe and my fellow staff were so supportive throughout my journey. If you are going to get sick or have a personal tragedy, Lowell is “The place to be.” First you have all the people of Lowell and churches praying for you and my strong faith in God helped me survive this journey. The Pink Arrow family support, Gilda’s Club and the Livingstrong Program at the Lowell YMCA. I am also very blessed to have the Lowell wrestling family be by my side with prayers, a fantastic white sweatshirt signed by all the wrestlers and coaches saying “Lowell Wrestlers #1 Fan.” They even set up a schedule for meals to be prepared and brought to my daughter’s house and the Lowell Rotary Club members sent gifts and brought food too. I received many, many cards, gifts, telephone calls from people throughout the community and a very Betty’s story, continued, page 51

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Bill's story, continued

was a common form of thyroid cancer and had a high rate of cure through the removal of the entire (right and left) thyroid. Still, the lung cancer issue was there and needed to be dealt with first. My doctor told me the first step would be to remove about half of my right lung. As I sat on the hospital bed looking out the window waiting for the doctor to return to my room a torrent of thoughts began going through my mind. Who am I? Why am I here? Why is God allowing this to happen to me??? There was no clear answer to me. I immediately prayed and asked God for healing and direction. “I place this problem between You and my doctors.” After praying I already felt like a burden had been taken from me. But other thoughts began racing through my mind. What about all the children, servicemen dying in battle and others who were so less fortunate than I who passed away so young? I could only conclude that I am rich with my family and friends and stand grateful to God for all that I have been blessed with, and that God owes me nothing more on this Earth. When my cancer issue had been made known to family and friends, we had several people called out of love and concern asking how they could help. I did not want any sympathetic cards, visitations, meals or any other tangible forms of help. All I asked for was as much prayer as could be petitioned. Word had gotten back to us how many people had been praying for us and this was so humbling. The leader of our Sunday school class asked me if I would like the Church Elders to come into class and anoint me with oil and pray over me, as this is commanded in The Book of James as an act of faith and submission for God’s Grace and Healing. Without a doubt I said yes. When the day of anointment came, I was asked to kneel down with the elders standing over me, and all of the people from class had joined and layed hands on me as the elders prayed and placed oil on my forehead. I cannot put into words the overwhelming sense of joy and peace that had come over me at this time. My tears were running like a river and I felt the presence of God’s Grace and Holy Spirit unlike any other

time in my life. How can you explain to someone what a beautiful experience you had when you are facing a mountain of adversity like this? In the weeks leading up to my surgery I had many people ask me how I felt, how I was doing, and I felt great. I did not worry, and never lost any sleep over this and as a result I felt this kept my body strong right up to the surgery. After the surgery, recovery went relatively well. The good news was the cancer had not spread to the lymph nodes, so no chemo or radiation was necessary at this time. We caught it early. It had been determined after a tumor biopsy that the tumor had started in a small cluster of embryonic lung cells which had not developed properly before I was born. I often remind my Mom that she gave me a defective lung. As close as we are, we can find humor in this. Later that fall, my entire thyroid was successfully removed. It has now been three years since the operations, and my annual June CT scan showed that I am still clear of any cancer at this point. I would agree with those who advocate the need to maintain a positive attitude (Plan A) when facing cancer. It’s easy for someone to say this, but for me would have been unbearable if I had no backup or “Plan B” if or when it is determined my illness was or will be terminal. Fortunately I did have a “Plan B” and it has enabled me a beautiful, positive outlook for my future. I do not deserve this plan B, nor can I earn it on my own, but it is free. It is the knowledge of my Eternal Salvation given to me by Christ through the sacrifice he made for all of us on the cross. Up until this point I have shared my journey with some family and friends, but have not shared it publicly. Brenda and I are thankful for Gilda’s Club, The Pink Arrow Pride as well as The Lowell Ledger for organizing these testimonials. If my story can help some burdened with grief this letter was worth my time. If just one person finds personal salvation in Christ as a result of this message it will be worth all of the pain and suffering I have gone through to this point.

Betty's story, continued special stuffed animal called “Faith” and a “Dammit Doll” for those not so great frustrating times from a very dear couple that we all know and love, Dave and Jan Thompson. During my sickness I had to miss most of the wrestling season, which was devastating to me. I love supporting and being part of the Lowell wrestling family. And what a season to miss, our wrestlers went to state and beat St. Johns by one very important point! Oh how I wanted to be there but to help me out two of the wrestling dad’s, Noel Dean and Brian Krajewski that were the commentators of the WLHS Radio at the State Wrestling Competition, sent greetings to Lowell’s Number One Wrestling Fan, which was me! Wow…how can you beat that!

Then during the summer I receive a phone call from a Lowell football (and wrestler) player Max Dean asking for the honor of wearing my name on his jersey for the Pink Arrow game. I could not believe it; I just cried…every time I told anyone up to the day of the event and after I would get choked up and cry. I was so honored and excited to have Max do this for me. Max and his family are fantastic, I am so blessed to know them and they made the Pink Arrow night one of the highlights of my life. I was so very proud to be on the football field next to Max Dean having our names announced and looking at the football stadium that was all pink! I still get very emotional when I talk or think about it. And to me, things like I have written in my article are why Lowell is the BEST PLACE TO BE!!

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Ashley Weber

My name is Ashley Weber and my husband and I share the responsibility of raising three children: my two sons from a previous relationship, Chevy and Hunter; and our daughter Harper. When Chevy and Hunter’s father passed away suddenly a-year-anda-half ago, a friend told us about Gilda’s Place. Since this tragic loss, we have attended Gilda’s Place, making new friends through group meetings designed for each age range in the family. We found comfort in the experiences that others have shared with us as we console them and grow through our grief together. We know we are not alone in the mix of feelings we have as we share with others our daily struggles. Every Tuesday we look forward to a time of relaxing with our new family at Gilda’s Place as we share a wonderful meal prepared by loving volunteers. These volunteers are an important part of Gilda’s Group program. It is a blessing to know people care for you when you are feeling so lost. Our children have seen how in a matter of minutes the life of a person can be changed –lost forever- and bring with it more change and uncertainty. The children have learned to value life more and not take life for granted. At the young ages of 10 and seven, the sudden loss has forced an adult level of maturity on the boys and taught them to appreciate their family, friends and acquaintances more.

PINK ARROW

PRIDE

PINK ARROW

PRIDE

In Memory of

Linda Sharpe With love from her family

Survivor & Supporter

Betty Morlock

The boys go to Camp Sparkle, funded by Gilda’s Place. Camp Sparkle ministers to children who experience cancer and death. The boys learned about how many different cultures live with the experience of death. Knowing that Gilda’s Place is there for us brings comfort and security to our family. We would like to give thanks to Julie, Jaclyn, Lindsey, Emily, Karina and Bethany for the guidance and leadership they bring to the groups. They are very special to us. We are forever thankful for the friends and families at Gilda’s Place and the security and warmth they provided, have provided and continue to provide us during the difficult days.

PINK ARROW

In Memory of

In Loving Memory of

PRIDE

LARRY ROTH

With love from his family

PINK ARROW

PRIDE

Mike Serne

Proud Supporter

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Steve Watson

I am writing this article about my step dad, Steve Watson. Even though he is not my biological dad, I am honored to call him “my dad.” He raised my sister and I since we were very young and has always been there for my mom, my sister and I. Our family’s lives changed in July 2013 when my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. He has had a long history of chronic back pain due to an injury when I was a child. He has had several back surgeries, nerve blocks and a lot of pain management and medications due to his back pain. In 2012, he finally qualified for disability and was able to retire from his career of remodeling houses, drywall and just about any other handyman job out there. In February 2013, he was having a lot of shoulder pain, chest pain and did not feel well. My mom took him to the emergency room, where he underwent many tests, including an EKG, blood tests and a stress test to rule out any heart condition. My dad was then referred to more doctors and more specialists for his chronic back and shoulder pain. Then he was referred to a neurologist, thinking his pain was nerve related or a pinched nerve. After several tests with a neurologist, he then was referred to an orthopedic doctor. Conveniently, he was referred to a shoulder specialist that I work for thru Spectrum Health. During his initial appointment, the doctor had thought my dad had a rotator cuff tear. They did x-rays and his doctor recommended having an MRI done on the shoulder. It was July 2013 and I was at work pulling faxes off the fax machine and happened to see “URGENT” on one of the faxes. So curiosity got the best of me and I was shocked when I saw my dad’s name and the words “multiple bony marrow lesions.” I am not a doctor by any means, but my knowledge of medical terminology kicked in and I thought to myself, this is not good. I gave it to the medical assistant and she gave it to the doctor to look at the results. His orthopedic doctor pulled me aside, showed me his scans and informed me they would now be ordering a full body scan. We are now in the second week of July and I have a vacation planned in the Upper Peninsula. I now have to make a decision if I am going on vacation or if I will stay home and await the scan results. The problem was, nobody was aware of his soon-to-be cancer diagnosis. Under the HIPPA laws, I am not able to say anything regarding his results. This was the hardest part, I know something bad was going on but I could not even talk to my husband or even my parents until they got the final diagnosis from the doctor. If I didn’t go on vacation, my family would for sure wonder why. It was horrible that I had to keep back such important information regarding his health. I ended up going to the UP and pretended that everything was fine. The doctor that I work for informed me that when my dad’s results came in that he would call me. The day I found out we were on a family tubing trip and I felt like a teenager. I couldn’t go anywhere without my phone. It was attached to my body just like the teens! On the river, my phone rang and it was the doctor giving me the most heart wrenching news. The spot on his shoulder was bone cancer, along with many other tumors throughout his body. The CAT scan revealed that he had cancer on the skull, brain, spine, adrenal glands, liver, ureters, the left lung, and in several of his bones. This was absolutely the most horrible

outcome that we were not expecting. He was diagnosed with small cell lung carcinoma (undefined) because they could not identify where the primary tumor started which had spread to the rest of his body. The oncologist had told my parents that if my dad had no treatment, they gave him approximately three months or less to live and with treatment it depends on how his body responds to chemo and radiation. Many trips back and forth from Lowell to Grand Rapids for treatment was really exhausting for both my parents. He was referred to Spectrum Health Oncology and the Lemmon Holton Cancer Center where he underwent 10 rounds of very aggressive chemotherapy which ended in April of 2014. His next CAT scan was in June of 2014. This scan revealed tumors in his lung, liver and adrenal glands had started growing again. This time he was able to complete four of the six rounds of chemo and had to stop treatment due to neuropathy in his hands and feet caused by the chemo drugs. In October of 2014 he underwent cyber knife to his liver and in December of 2014 he went through 15 days of radiation to the adrenal glands. We were informed that the cancer spread to his throat in December 2014. In April 2015, my dad was complaining of a sore throat over the weekend. On that following Monday, he asked my mom to call his cancer doctor. The oncologist advised my parents to go straight to the emergency room. I missed a call from my mom on that Monday afternoon and I knew something was wrong. My mom does not use her cell phone, so it must be horrible! While at work, I listened to my voicemail and my mom stated that they were in ER and they were taking him into surgery. What, when, how is all I could think! I packed up my stuff at work and went to the hospital and met my mom where I learned they had to do Steve’s story, continued, page 59

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Marian Mayou We will never forget the day we found out our mom had cancer. It was October 16, 2013 and she had called her doctor to make an appointment because she had a headache and just didn’t feel right. We ended up going to the ER at the advice of her doctor. Shortly after arriving at the hospital they evaluated her and since there were no obvious signs of what was causing her headache and she didn’t have a history of migraines they decided to do a CT scan of the brain. Okay, simple enough we thought and as we waited for the results we never once thought it would be something serious. To be honest, we all thought it had something to do with her cataracts. She had been to an ophthalmologist a few months prior because she was having some vision trouble (seeing spots, sporadic shapes/colors in her vision and off balance periodically) and was scheduled to have laser surgery on both eyes in Nov. 2013. As the ER physician walked back into the room we all immediately knew by the look on his face that it wasn’t good. The CT scan showed a single brain tumor, the size of an egg. We all began to cry. The ER doctor was so compassionate and sat down on the side of the bed and held our mom’s hand; we will never forget that. Within minutes there were multiple doctors in her room and a neurosurgeon was on the way as she would be having surgery within a few days. The next step was to have a CT scan of the chest as they assumed the tumor had spread to her brain from elsewhere and it was most likely cancer. It couldn’t be cancer, we lost our dad to cancer in 2001 and there’s no way this could happen to our family again, especially our mom, at least that’s what we thought. The CT scan of the chest confirmed a dime size tumor in her lung and the diagnosis of stage 4 lung cancer was confirmed. It wasn’t fair, cancer is not fair and it doesn’t discriminate. Our mom was so healthy and she didn’t look sick or feel sick, how could she have stage 4 lung cancer? She was admitted to the hospital that Wednesday evening of October 16, 2013 and a craniotomy was scheduled to remove the brain tumor that Monday, October 21, 2013. As we spent the next two days at the hospital with her, we were ecstatic when her doctor said they would allow her to go home for the weekend and come back on Monday for surgery. WOW, how special for us. The weekend was spent with all our families at her house, which really wasn’t out of the ordinary for us; her house was always the gathering place and we were ALWAYS there. We all had the feeling of uncertainty though and were very concerned and scared. She was the one that reassured us that everything was going to be okay, no matter what the outcome. The morning of the surgery was a whirlwind and we were prepared for her to be in surgery for about four plus hours. After waiting in the waiting room for almost exactly four hours, we saw her neurosurgeon. The tumor was successfully removed and they did not see anything else of concern. That was GREAT news. After surgery, she was moved from recovery to the ICU. We weren’t sure what to expect and when we walked into her room in ICU, she was awake and she looked right at my sister and I and said, “There you two are, I’ve been waiting to see you,” and then proceeded to introduce us to her ICU nurse. Amazing, plain and simple, so

strong, that’s who she was! Following the craniotomy, she spent two weeks at Mary Free Bed for rehabilitation therapy. Shortly after coming home from MFB, she started radiation of the brain, five days a week for six weeks (30 radiation treatments total). Once radiation was completed she would meet with her oncologist to discuss and begin treatment of the tumor in her lung. She handled radiation of the brain like a trooper! She lost all of her hair and was exhausted most days, but still managed to smile and laugh and did all of this while going to physical therapy at MFB once a week as well. A few months later she started chemotherapy three days a week every three weeks (the first day was eight hours and the next two days were about four hours of chemo). Chemo was very hard on her, she was very sick and after three cycles of treatment, a CT scan of the chest showed that she was not responding to this particular combination of chemo. They discussed other options and decided to try a different combination of chemo drugs and this chemo would be one day a week for about four hours every three weeks. After three cycles of this second chemo they did a CT scan and it was working – YEA and she continued on with three more cycles. Luckily she had minimal and tolerable side effects from this chemo and powered through it; she knew when it was time to rest and she knew when it was time to go shop! She was even strong enough to participate in the 2014 Pink Arrow game and was introduced and walked onto the field with her grandson and his friend – what a special night for us all and our community that we Marian’s story, continued, page 59

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Marian's story, continued will never forget! And her hair was starting to grow back, but that didn’t stop her from buying colorful hats and scarves; they became her favorite accessory along with her always classy earrings. After her last treatment, she had a CT scan and it showed the tumor had shrunk but there were a few other tiny spots that hadn’t changed and they thought radiation of the chest would be beneficial. If she decided to have radiation, she would need to stop chemo during that time frame. We knew there would be a chance of the tumor or new tumors appearing if she stopped chemo, but she felt this was the best decision and was willing to take the chance. She had radiation of the chest everyday for five weeks. After radiation was complete they did another chest scan and it showed some new areas of concern. We were devastated but remained optimistic as they weren’t sure if it was cancer or scar tissue. A biopsy followed and a follow-up appointment on Christmas Eve 2014 confirmed it was cancer. We were devastated again by the news; we thought for sure we would receive good news, it was after all Christmas Eve, you couldn’t get bad news on Christmas Eve, right? We sat in the doctor’s office for about five minutes and we all cried. We knew from the beginning that they would never be able to cure her, but we were hoping to buy as much time as we could by stopping the cancer from growing and spreading. A life without our mom was unimaginable and she wasn’t giving up; she was ready to get started with a new treatment right away, she was always so positive. After her appointment she wanted to go have lunch and coffee, so we did and we all cried and laughed and cried and laughed some more. We had a wonderful Christmas Eve and Christmas and we were all together. Again, she was the one reassuring us, as she always did; we were going to get through this as a family and nothing was going to stop her or bring her down. Moving forward, the new plan was to have chemotherapy again with the previous chemo that she responded to. She began treatment and after three cycles a CT scan showed that she was not responding to this chemo any longer and the cancer in her lungs

was growing. The plan was to change to a different combination of chemo again. She began a third line of chemo (one day a week for about two hours every three weeks) and this was the most difficult chemo yet. It was very, very hard on her and she was very weak and was spending most of her time sleeping. Each treatment seemed to make her weaker and so fragile. She wanted to continue and push through, she wasn’t going to give up and she continued with treatment. After three cycles, they did a CT scan and it showed she was responding and the tumors were getting smaller, but her body just couldn’t tolerate the treatment any longer; she was tired and it was doing more harm to her than good and she might not recover from any more chemotherapy. She made the decision on May 5, 2015, to stop treatment. Her quality of life was much more important to her at this time and being able to spend quality time with her family was a must. Sadly, our mom lost her battle with cancer and passed away 17 days later on May 22, 2015, with her family at her side. She was a fighter from day one and fought so hard for nineteen months. She went through so much and was willing to do whatever it took to beat cancer and never gave up or complained. She made the most of every day, even when she wasn’t feeling the best. She wasn’t going to let cancer ever get her spirit. She truly was an amazing woman, our best friend and most of all a wonderful, loving mother! She will be forever missed but has left us all with a lifetime of love, courage, strength and taught us all never to give up, no matter what. We are forever thankful to all of our family, friends, Teresa Beachum and the Pink Arrow Pride that supported her and us during her fight. WE COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU and we are so blessed and grateful that we live in such a wonderful, compassionate and supportive community. A cancer diagnosis affects all of us, it doesn’t matter who you are. Stay strong, have hope, fight and never give up!

Steve's story, continued an emergency tracheotomy. The ENT doctor said if he had waited another day, there would have been nothing they could do for him. His throat was swollen from the tumor [it was] making it hard for him to swallow, eat and breathe. He had a tracheotomy placed on that following Monday and he was in ICU for three days and then moved to the cancer floor at Spectrum. On Friday, he was doing so well that they discharged him to go home and they taught my mom how to clean the trach. Three weeks after the trach was placed he had to go and see the ENT to have it changed. During the appointment, the doctor put a scope down his throat and was completely shocked that the tumor was gone! He had 10 rounds of radiation to his throat and the doctor had never seen it

disappear that fast with so few treatments. Soon, he will undergo another round of stereo tactic radio surgery on his liver to shrink another tumor. We are blessed that he is still here with us and I am completely blessed he is here with my mom. My dad is a cancer hero! With a stage 4 terminal cancer diagnoses, two years later he is still fighting and I admire his courage, strength and his strong will to live. I do believe in the power of prayer and we greatly appreciate all the support from family, friends, Spectrum Health, CHCWM, and Gilda’s Club of Lowell. I want cancer patients and newly diagnosed patients to know there is hope and to not give up. Reach out to support groups, stay strong, pray and stay positive.

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Louise Weeks My story starts at the beginning of 2013. I was living in Bay City at the time that my mother was diagnosed with colon cancer. She underwent surgery in January of 2013. This was followed by six months of chemotherapy. She was quite ill from the chemo drugs in the beginning and surprisingly did not lose her hair. I made as many trips to Lowell as were possible and it was difficult to not be able to be there all the time, however once she adapted to the treatments she was able to function on her own or with assistance from my father. She came through it all like a trooper and continues to get clean checkups. I’d moved to Bay City almost five years earlier for employment and once there found that my life was in the Lowell area where I’d grown up and lived for most of my life. In June of 2013 I was presented with the opportunity to transfer to the Lansing office of my employer. I was so excited I could hardly stand it. I was coming home, or at least closer to home. My older sister and her partner were moving to New Mexico and my daughter was coming back to Michigan. All was right with the world. I started in the Lansing office in August. Commuting from Lowell, packing up my belongings in Bay City and trying to decide where to live. Then a dear friend was involved in a motorcycle accident the beginning of September and passed away from the injuries sustained in the accident on September 27. Suddenly all was not bright and cheery. I began to wonder why I wanted to move back to this side of the state if this was how my life was going to go. I spent several weeks trying to decide what I wanted to do and then decided that I needed to move forward with my plans. I was able to move my house from Bay City to Portland and in November I was back in my home. Thanksgiving was going to be at my house for the first time in what seemed like forever. There was excitement in my life again and then I discovered a lump in my breast. I waited a few weeks and it didn’t go away. Wishing it away was not working. I decided to not share this with anyone until I knew what was happening. I put a smile on my face and we had, I believe, a wonderful Thanksgiving. I made an appointment with my doctor and the journey began. The doctor’s appointment ended up with my being sent for a diagnostic mammogram. This was scheduled for Christmas Eve. The doctor that came to let me know that I was going to need a biopsy was very apologetic because he had to give me this news on Christmas Eve. I still was not sharing any of this with anyone. I couldn’t share this during the holidays. It was bad enough that I made several trips to that dark place where you know nothing and there are no answers to your questions; I was not going to let anyone else go there with me. Once again I put a smile on my face and shared the Christmas holiday with family and friends. The biopsy was scheduled for January 3, 2014. The hospital called me the day before to confirm the appointment and informed me that I needed to have a driver for the test. My heart skipped a beat or two. I tried to talk them out of it but they were insistent. Now I needed to decide who to share this with. It was a difficult decision and I ended up choosing my parents. The biopsy process was interesting. The doctor needed to

turn the table around so he could see the screen and perform the biopsy at the same time which meant that I got to watch. I would never have guessed that I could laugh as much as I did during this process, but the group of us in the room were having fun. Now this test was done and I started the waiting process. I hadn’t felt like I was waiting until now; it was all becoming real. Less than a week later I received a call from the family doctor that I needed to come in for an appointment. They don’t usually call you in for good news. The biopsy results determined that I had breast cancer. My whole world came crashing in on me. I had so many questions and I didn’t know where to start. I needed to share this with people in my life. I didn’t start sharing the news immediately. I did tell my parents and I didn’t want to tell anyone else until I told my daughter and this needed to be in person. There were shock, tears and anger involved in that conversation. I wasn’t sure she would ever forgive me for not sharing with her sooner. It took some time but she has forgiven me. I shared with my siblings, a few close friends and my employer and then headed for the first step, surgery. My parents, my daughter and I had a day of appointments with the surgeon, oncologist and radiation oncologist. And the next day I had a lumpectomy. I chose this course of action because there didn’t seem to be a reason to remove the breast. Once the lump was analyzed I met with the oncologist to determine what was next. My cancer was rated stage 2 due to the size of the lump and was hormone receptive. The decision was to do chemotherapy followed by radiation and then the hormone therapy. I met with the chemo nurse that same day. I remembered my mother’s trip through chemo and thought I was ready for this. Right up to the moment that the nurse told me I was going to lose my hair. I don’t think I heard anything after that. I came home with an entire notebook of information and immediately went online looking for ways to cover my future bald head. I decided on hats and scarves and ordered several that night. Louise’s story, continued, page 57

perseverance

A community fighting cancer

Louise's story, continued My mindset was to keep my life as normal as possible and I continued to work while all of this was happening. My employer allowed me to work from home when needed and other associates took on part of my client load to help. Support of all kinds was coming in from all over the country. Family and friends were all reaching out. I didn’t know how to handle it. I would assure everyone that all was doing as well as could be expected and that I was trying to just be me. I also tried to find a positive in everything that was happening. My port placement for the chemo treatments was scheduled and again I reached out to my parents for a ride. I ended up being scheduled for an echocardiogram on the same day. My mother’s birthday was just a few days away and they were planning on going to the casino and I called for a driver. On the way to the appointments I convinced them that they could drop me off and go to the casino for a few hours as there was a large gap of time between the two procedures. They decided to go. Of course, the hospital was concerned that I needed to have a driver so I assured them that my parents would be back from the casino before I was done and this got them all talking. When they called me for my port placement they called for “Nancy, who is not at Gun Lake.” We still laugh about this, as do the doctors and nurses at the cancer center. With chemo came the losing of my hair. A friend of mine had shared with me something she had received from a woman that had gone through losing her hair and how she shaved her head when the hair started falling out. That sounded good and that was my plan. My daughter was going to do it for me. I had colored my hair for years and often wondered how I was going to stop. Looking at the bright side, this is how. Actually removing the hair started out with many tears and much reluctance on my daughter’s part but it needed to be done. After two swipes with the clippers she decided that she really liked the color of my natural hair and that she loved the way the extremely short hair looked on me. Needless to say the haircut took much less time than I thought it was going to take. I started wearing hats to work and everyone liked the new look. I really like the hassle free hair style that the short hair provided and have decided to keep it short. The support of friends and family during my chemo treatments was overwhelming, from providing rides to sitting with me through treatments. About this time is when my father was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. While trying to be supportive for me, my parents were now dealing with surgery, special diets and radioactive treatment for my father. Because of chemo effects on my immune system I was not able to be as helpful as I would have liked for him. We have had two occasions where we have, what I refer to as dueling surgeries where we both had surgery on the same day. They were an interesting bonding experience. His treatments all worked and he too, continues to get clean checkups. Nancy is my first name and I tried to maintain throughout this process that as long as this was happening to Nancy, Louise was okay. That worked up until the point where I was almost done with my chemo treatments and my younger sister was diagnosed with

breast cancer. I also found out that I had several family members that have had breast cancer. When I shared this with my oncologist she suggested that I see a genetic counselor and have genetic testing done. This needed to be done before we started radiation because in her words, “There is no sense in radiating a breast if it is going to be removed.” Genetic testing, breast removal, my head was spinning. What had happened? I was almost done with chemo and would be done with radiation by November. I wanted my life back, my normal. Now my whole world could change again and what if I’m positive, what does that mean for my siblings and my daughter? Not that I felt like I had much control in the process up to this point in time but now I felt a total lack of control. I had to remind myself to take one day at a time and not get ahead of anything. The genetic testing was done in early August and again I found myself waiting for results before I could move forward. I received the results about four weeks later and I tested positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation. This means that I have an increased risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer. Once my results were in my younger sister was also tested and she too was BRCA2 positive. So not only was I making some difficult decisions, so was she. Many sleepless nights and conversations with loved ones took place. And after discussions with my oncologist and surgeon I decided to have a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction and a complete hysterectomy including removal of my ovaries. My sister opted for the same procedures. The surgeries went fine and my body healed. It was my emotional state that took a beating. I wasn’t me anymore. I felt as if I no longer had a normal to return to. I met a few times with the social worker at the cancer center and in one of those meetings she asked me if I was attending any kind of support group. I was not and she suggested that I try Gilda’s Club of Lowell. I did and am so thankful that I walked through the door. I find it extremely helpful to be able to talk with people who are walking [thru] their journey as well. I only wish that I had started attending earlier. At this point in time I have at least one more reconstruction surgery and then hopefully I’ll be all set. I could not have made it through any of this if it weren’t for the love, thoughts, prayers and kindness of my family, friends, and so very many people that I’ve never met. Family gatherings, card parties, picnics in the park, work and so many more activities that were part of my life before all of this have all helped with keeping me on track and moving forward. The financial and community support from Pink Arrow Pride helped in more ways than I can count. Sometimes you start to wonder how you are going to be able to do all of this and then an angel appears. This organization is a wonderful example of true community spirit. You touch so many lives and I am blessed and thankful to have been one of those lives. I’m still working on what my new “normal” looks like but the picture is getting clearer each day. With God’s help, continued support and love from so many, taking it all one day at a time and remembering that I am choosing life, it will all work out as it is supposed to. Thank you and God bless you all.