Managing Editor/
General Manager
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As I told Larry Murdock a year ago in Thomasville, NC, there have been many times that I have stood on the infield of a track and called out words of encouragement and clapped as survivors took that first lap at Relay, but never in my wildest imagination could I have pictured myself as one of those walking around the track.
As we went around the room Friday morning, I realized there are at least two things we survivors share. First, we've all heard what I think are the most damnable words in the world: "You have cancer." Second: We know when we heard those words and we know how long it has been since we were told we were cancer-free.
But I know there's also a third thing we share, and that has to be the fear that we'll again hear those three words in our lifetime.
I'll not worry about that, though, because I believe that surviving is as much a frame of mind as it is good, solid medical care ... and I believe that my frame of mind that my head and neck cancer, which I named "Bubba," was built on the belief that my God was not going to let me fight that fight alone and that He would be with me every step of the way.
He was and has been. And embarrassingly, I must admit that I've not matched His commitment step-by-step.
I realize that surviving is a combination of things, and I know all of my doctors - Papatto, Burton, Paschold, Leung, Deang, Lance, Pincus - all had the skills to treat my illness. I know those skills and abilities were gifts of the Lord, just as with all of us, but while they were treating me, I refused to quit.
Given the choices of a surgical approach or aggressive medicinal, I said "no" to surgery and went through the chemo and radiation. I tried to stay at work as long as I could, but when it got to the point that I even had difficulty sipping water, it was time to fight the fight full-time.
My decision to fight was an easy and quick one. My pastor, Jack Stratas was visiting in my office and asking how I was doing when my wife came in. That's when I knew something was wrong, because she and I had just had lunch and she had dropped me off at work.
My decision to fight was easy because too many times I had heard friends or loved ones disclose they had cancer and then watched as they gave up. Yes, they lost their battle.
My intent was to kick "Bubba's" butt.
On Friday, I heard survivors tell that they had been diagnosed more than 30 years ago and survive today ... so even at a time when hearing 'You have cancer" was viewed as the same as receiving a death sentence, there are those among us who have defied the odds.
God is indeed a great God, isn't He?
But there are two sets of survivors.
There are those of us who have survived cancer and there are those among us who have helped us fight the fight and have survived with us. Our caregivers have survived cancer with us and we shouldn't let those who have never walked this walk overlook their importance.
I've watched as my wife, Stephanie, worked to try and keep me comfortable when it was 100 degrees outside and I was freezing and I can't tell you the times she scolded me - out of total love, care and concern - that I needed to keep myself hydrated. And she was right beside me when I was hospitalized because I became dehydrated.
In reality, it wasn't "my" cancer, but rather "our" cancer because of the impact it had on ours lives and the fact it was always there.
As the offspring of a Hester woman and Walker man, I can tell you I'm headstrong and stubborn - but I was also blessed with my parents' common sense, and I know that while I would have fought the same fight and fought just as hard, it would have been much more difficult without my Sweetheart.
So, as we go through life, let's not forget those who are there with us every step of the way, because the chemo zaps them mentally, just as it does us physically.
Bubba? God, Stephanie, the docs and me ... we kicked his butt.
(John H. Walker is general manager/managing editor of The Daily News.)
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