To Be in the Presence of Heroes and Angels….

"And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I will fear no evil…." — Psalms 23:4

A month or two ago, US Airways flight 1549 hit a flock of birds and lost the use of both engines. In an incredible maneuver, Captain C.B. "Sully" Sullenburger managed to "land" the plane in the only open area available to him; the Hudson River. By the time the last of the passengers had been fished out of the river, the captain's face was plastered over every television screen in America and the word hero started to circulate. A friend of mine decided to become a fan of "Sully's" on Facebook and within hours people started making verbal love to the captain on my friend's Facebook page. They started saying things like, "He is truly a hero….. Children should look to him as a role model and not those overpaid athletes."

The thing that bothered me from this whole incident, which I took the liberty of posting below the long list of praises, is the fact that, no matter how you spin it, he was really just doing his job. Seeing that the passengers survive the flight is his, as well as every other pilot's, primary objective and he is trained extensively and well paid to do so. Granted, as far as celebrities go, US Airways' most famous pilot would put Latrell Sprewell to shame and is probably more respected than every athlete short of Peyton Manning, but I refuse to call somebody a hero for doing his job. But that's part of the problem. The world around me has hardened me over time and that optimism I had when I was younger has been smudged and tarnished. Through all of the mistakes that I've made in my life and the pain that I put myself through, alone, I have lost my faith in the goodness of myself and the goodness of man.

My girlfriend is 37 years old and is already a breast cancer survivor of nearly three years. She was diagnosed with high risk stage 2 breast cancer on March 17, 2006, and her body has been free of cancer (i.e. the cancerous breast removed) for nearly two and a half years. She's been through chemotherapy, a lumpectomy, a mastectomy, a prophylactic mastectomy, and several reconstructive surgeries in the past three years. To make her life even more complicated, while fighting cancer, she's had to endure her ex-husband's infidelity as well as a long, drawn out divorce while somehow finding a way to keep that contagious, loving, positive disposition and a heart that is as pure as the driven snow. That spirit, after everything she's been through, is what has drawn me to a woman that is ten years older than me and will keep me at least at a glimpse's distance for years and years to come. We started dating after her treatment, but before her cosmetic reconstructions were finished, so I've experience just a small hint of the anxiety and pain associated with this horrible disease.

Shortly after diagnosis, my "queen" got involved with an organization called YSC, or Young Survival Coalition. This organization is involved with advocacy, education, medical research and personal support, either through local meetings or an online survivors' network. Since her discovery of the site, she has been an active participant on their message boards and has made some lasting friends as well as offering counsel and information for those who were recently diagnosed and had more questions than their oncologist had time to answer.

Towards the end of February, the YSC has an annual convention and this year it was in Dallas. Even though my "queen" is three years past her diagnosis, she is still a very active member, and integral part, of this multi-faceted organization. This year, my "queen" was nice enough to invite me along. The experience was absolutely incredible and nothing like I expected. I figured there would be a lot of bald/balding, sickly looking women and I assumed that it was going to be like a four-day funeral. Even though breast cancer in post-menopausal women has excellent survival rates, the odds for women under 40 are so poor that I figured the mood would be sedated and somber. Much to my surprise, it was anything but.

The thing that jumped out at me was just how beautiful these women were. Many of these women had some combination of thinning hair, no hair, visible surgical scars, ports, no breasts, one breast, and breasts in the process of reconstruction. Even with all of these "blemishes," they collectively, and individually, had this glow and radiance about them that was too overwhelming to take in all at once. So much so that you could hardly notice the light of the sun reflecting in concert with the house lights against the shiny, white marble floors! Throughout the weekend, different people would ask me, or my girlfriend, if I was freaking out, and I was; but not in the way that they thought. This band of fighters and survivors absolutely knocked me off my feet, not from the ugliness of this terrible affliction, but from their collective strength, courage, and incredibly positive perspective! Whenever these lovely ladies would gather, I could always hear their individual conversations transform into this enthusiastic roar. At one point, I could have sworn I could hear former University of Houston basketball coach, and victim of cancer, Jim Valvano in his very famous, very moving 1993 ESPY award speech; "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

There was already such a whirlwind of emotions and I had yet to understand what "stage four" meant. "Stage four," a.k.a. "mets," is metastatic breast cancer. While the cancer is localized to one specific area, such as the breast, the infected tissue can be removed (a lumpectomy) or the entire breast can be removed (a mastectomy) with the hope of preventing the spread of the cancer to the rest of the body. When a cancer is classified as metastasized, it has become systemic and is free to spread throughout the body. "Stage four" is the terminal classification of the disease and there is no "stage five." How long a person has to live varies from individual to individual. After I would meet different young, vibrant, cheerful women, my girlfriend would tell me about their condition and I was shocked at how many of these young women had breast cancer that had metastasized. They just didn't behave like somebody that was marked for an early death!

Even though it was such a positive atmosphere, you can't help but find the somber aspects of such an occasion; it is the nature of the disease. Breast cancer in women under 40 is so often fatal and aggressive that it requires the most toxic of chemicals to rid the body of this mutation. So with all of the triumph, strength, and perseverance, it is a statistical certainty that a significant number of these young, bright women won't overcome this incredible obstacle and this particular year had been especially hard on this sorority of fighters. There was Danica Martinez, who friends loved because she was incredibly funny and straightforward, but also left behind three children that she loved very, very much. You couldn't mention Danica without mentioning Jayme. Jayme Gonzalez, a mother of one, was also loved for her sense of humor and her ability to love and care for the people around her. She and Danica both were the best of friends for their "spunk" and enthusiasm. So much so that Danica was there to help with Jayme and her family in the days leading up to Jayme's death. There was Cathy, Shabby, Jessica, Lola, Courtney, Brin, Melissa, and Janet. Each one of these women had their own unique story of their diagnosis, treatment, and how they interacted within the group. They were all special and will be missed by everyone that knew and loved them.

Even though their bodies stopped functioning they are still very much with us. They are with us in pictures, stories, and memories. They are with us in trips, vacations, and past conferences. Their thoughts and words live on as well as their actions. They live on in every clinical trial, successful or unsuccessful, that they participated in. They live on in every blood test, every specimen, and every chemical or virus they allowed, if not requested, into their bodies in an attempt to exterminate this predator of women. I would like to think of them as angels that offer us hope, strength, and encouragement in ways we can't possibly explain.

So here I am, expecting this four day funeral and I find myself in this vast and seemingly endless sea of real life heroes and angels, two things I didn't believe existed anymore. The women that were currently in treatment are some of the strongest, yet upbeat, individuals that I had ever met, but it was the conference alumnae that impressed me the most. These are women that either defeated this disease or who continue to fight this disease on a long-term basis, whose families and friends just can't understand why anybody would want to be reminded of the fires of hell that either impaired or consumed their lives, yet they not just willingly, but enthusiastically rush back into the "burning building" so that they can offer support, encouragement, and most importantly understanding to those women that are in the very early stages of this arduous progression. It is that sort of behavior that re-asserts my belief that heroes really do exist! In just four days, in the presence of these heroes and angels, the optimism that I had spent a decade quite successfully tried to destroy had suddenly and miraculously been restored!

These past few days have absolutely enhanced my perspective on life. I just don't know that I can have such a glib outlook on life, even if in my case it's caused at a body chemistry level, when there are these young women who celebrate the beauty of life every moment of every day, even when something deep within their own bodies is fighting to prematurely end their lives. These young heroes demonstrated to me, through their actions, that every day that I'm alive is truly a gift and I should pursue every possibility available to me, because nobody knows what tomorrow has in store for us. These women, who have every reason to be spiteful, jealous, angry, and hateful act as a very powerful, and moving example of the human spirit that lives inside each and every one of us. They were truly an inspiration and I'm a much better person for taking the time to learn about the joy of life from their perspective. I don't know that I'll ever be put in a position where I have to walk a while in their shoes, but I do know that I would gladly carry their bags, chauffeur them around town, buy them dinner, or be their cameraman whenever necessary to show my appreciation for how their perseverance and humility has touched my life!

"Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever…." — Jim Valvano, 1993



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