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Page 2 of 2
 Sharon
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 Rich
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 Jonathan
Climbing
Mt. Kilimanjaro will be a challenge for me, but more importantly, is a
tribute to the many hundreds of patients with cancer I have treated
over the past 35 years. They and their families have shown me the
meaning of true courage. |
 Jo Ann
If you asked me who my hero is I would have to say my Dad.
My Dad has faced many challenges throughout his lifetime, each making
him stronger and yet more vulnerable. When Dad was 5 years old he came
down with rheumatic fever. From the age of 5 until the age of 8, a
teacher from the Father Baker’s School for Boys home schooled Dad. When
my father was finally well enough to attend school he was behind in the
grades and attended the same grade as his younger brother. Rheumatic
fever damaged Dad’s joints and heart.
At the age of 17 my Dad tried to join the Marines, but due to his
medical background they declined his application. At 19, my Dad was
drafted in to the Navy and became a Merchant Marine. On March 4th 1944
at 2:30 in the morning my Dad’s ship the Joel R Poinsett (A liberty
ship) was torpedoed on the return trip from Liverpool England. The Ship
snapped in half, the front of the ship sank but the rear stayed a
float. The crew sat on half a ship for 32 hours waiting for help to
arrive.
In August of 1945 Dad suffered a relapse of rheumatic fever and ended
up in the Jacksonville Navel Hospital. He stayed in Jacksonville until
February of 1946, when he was transported to the Batavia Veterans
Hospital. There on February 16th, 1946 my Dad was discharged.
My Father never graduated from high school, but yet earned his GED and
went on in life to own two businesses. Plus he worked a full time job,
to support a wife, seven children, and a whole bunch of animals.
During Dad’s life he had been diagnosed with diabetes, arthritis, high
blood pressure, skin cancer, multiple joint replacements and numerous
ailments. But all of these medical conditions were small in comparison
for what was yet to come.
On November 21, 2004 my dad had a heart attack. He had wonderful
Doctor’s who really took great care of him. You see, my father had a
horrible hacking cough for quite some time prior to his heart attack.
The Doctor that preformed his by-pass surgery scoped his lungs
during the by-pass procedure. The scope found some unusually spots,
that they sent for biopsies.
Dad’s cough prohibited his recovery and caused so many
complications that he had to under go three more major surgeries. Twice
the doctors when in to repair the sternum. Then third and final surgery
to remove the sternum completely. For the final surgery Dad laid in an
induced coma for three days over the Christmas Holiday, until a
specialist could be brought in to make him a protective cover for the
heart. Somewhere between the first surgery and the last, Dad contracted
a deep tissue infection in the chest cavity.
On January
13, 2005, Dad finally came home. He was still on IV antibiotic, which
had to be changed every six hours. His chest cavity was open and needed
to be repacked twice a day. But yet recovering from this was still not
his greatest challenge.
In late January, we received bad news, Dad had lung cancer, we were stunned. This was yet to be his greatest challenge.
In February of 2005, as we wheeled my Dad into Roswell Park Cancer
Institute, Dad reached up and said, “I don’t think I can survive
another surgery, I don’t think I will live though this” and as my
sister and I fought back the tears, we assured him that every thing
would be ok.
The family met with a Doctor at Roswell Park who explained the type of
treatment that would be best for Dad. PDT. Photo Dynamic Therapy.
The American Cancer Society funded for the research of this particular type of treatment.
No surgery. Only non-invasive treatments. By the fall of 2005 Dad was
cleared and now returns for yearly checkups. Lung cancer was by
far the most challenging disease my father has ever faced.
It is only through the continuous funding of cancer research that we
will ever find the answers to this truly hideous disease. My father is
alive today because of the type of treatment he received. If he
had to go through another surgery he might not have been here to enjoy
my over cooked Easter ham!
My personal touch with cancer gives me more passion for my work. You
see, I am reminded every day by the many cancer survivors I meet, why I
do what I do. Although Dad’s cancer was found at an early stage, my
family still worries all the same. I am thankful for the researchers,
doctors and the American Cancer Society for making huge strides in
helping find a cure.
In February of 2009 I will be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in honor of my
Dad. I am happy to face this challenge knowing that the funds I am
raising for cancer research might help someone else’s Dad. I am
asking you today to please support my efforts by making a donation in
my Dad’s honor to my Mount Kilimanjaro climb care of the American
Cancer Society. You may send you donation to: Jo’s Kili Climb, American
Cancer Society, 101 John James Audubon Parkway, Amherst, NY 14228
Your donation can help fund a cure! With hope, jo
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 Desi & Alex
"Alex and Desi are climbing in memory
of our family members that we have lost to cancer. We are also
climbing in honor of those family members who have survived cancer and
in honor of those who are still struggling." |
 Bonnie
 I don’t know why I want to climb
Kili. I just know that when I heard my friend Diane King speak
about her 08 climb, my whole being said, “Why didn’t I do that?”
Then, when she said there would be another climb in 09, I was so
thrilled I could hardly contain myself!
Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro is a metaphor for so many things on so many
levels. Terry Cullinan (09) tells me that apparently the name
came from early German settlers’ attempts to pronounce the local name
for the mountain, a word which meant “impossible.” Other origins
have been suggested, but this one rings the truest.
“Impossible!” Climbing almost 20,000 feet at sixty-five (which
I’ll turn three months before) with two post-surgery knees is
impossible. Getting my neglected self in shape by February is
impossible. And raising all that money….
“You must do the thing you think you cannot do,” said Eleanor
Roosevelt. Cancer is one of the things we instinctively feel we
cannot do. It is, in a word, impossible. But when cancer
enters your life, as it did mine nine years ago when my husband Gareth
was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, you definitely must do the thing
you think you cannot do. Cancer, whatever the outcome, is one of
those things that makes us bigger than we are. It is one of the
ways that God stretches us.
Gareth did not survive multiple myeloma. But we journeyed
together on a path of impossible challenges, and we did them
together. Our blinders ripped off, we lived without regard for
the things that seemed so important the day before. We grew
closer. We did new things and we learned new things – about life,
about love, about each other. We watched the Yankees
together. We went out for coffee a million times. We
planned a trip to New Zealand. We didn’t make it there, so Gareth
mapped out a trip closer to home. We went to Acadia National
Park, Grand Manan Island, Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, Prince William
Island, the Gaspe Peninsula, Montreal, the Thousand Islands and home to
Rochester – between chemo. What a trip! And now we’re gong
to climb a mountain. Kilimanjaro, here we come! I’ll be
climbing. He’ll be cheering – I know.
Bonnie Lloyd
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