War Against Cancer

Under the "Links" on my blog are Team Woodlands Fall & Team Woodlands Winter. These sites include our weekly training messages to our TNT runners and lots of other good information. I have the Fall group who are fast approaching their events, Chicago & Nike San Francisco next weekend after which I get some R&R…..well maybe not….(we’re doing a short 10 week half marathon program through Luke’s Locker) Carol Steele & Dana-Sue Crews have the Winter group doing Houston, Disney & Arizona events. This Saturday is a very special day for the Crews family. Bill & Dana-Sue have become very good friends and I would like to share their story.


From Dana-Sue’s Team Message
This Saturday, October 14, is a huge anniversary at the Crews house. It was on this day, three years ago, that my husband found out he had cancer and our lives changed forever. We now celebrate this day each year. And as part of the celebration, I’m sharing my story with you, Team Woodlands, and reminding you all to celebrate life.

War Against Cancer
I was introduced to the dark world of childhood cancer as a seven-year-old. My baby brother Luke was only 18 months old when he was diagnosed with a very rare blood disorder called Histiocytosis X and had to undergo chemotherapy treatments at Texas Children's Hospital. Because the nature of his disease was so similar to blood cancer and bone cancer, he stayed in the leukemia section. There have been many times when I've wished to erase the ugly memories of sickness and death that lurked in those dreadful hospital halls. It was 1977 and survival rates for childhood leukemia were not good. Most children died after enduring very harsh treatments. When all the odds were against him, my brother Luke survived and has gone on to live a healthy, normal life. But try though I did, I never was able to successfully remove the memories of the many other children I saw during those months. Bald, weak, dying little children whose families were devastated as the thief cancer took joy, peace, health and life from them.

Many years later I met my husband Bill Crews. We found it at least a little interesting that the two of us shared the common horror of knowing what it's like to be a child walking through the halls of the leukemia section of a children's hospital to visit a sibling. His sister Michelle was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of five. One year later she became a casualty in the war against cancer, taking her last breath in a Dallas children's hospital at the age of six. One night I asked my husband to tell me about his sister, to share his memories. Of everything he said, the most vivid image of all was that of an eight-year-old little boy bending down to a coffin to kiss his sister's cold cheek. "Have mercy," I thought, "eight-year-olds shouldn't have to experience these things. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children."

Bill and I wondered if perhaps God had allowed the two of us to fall in love and get married so he could use us to reach out to the cancer community. After all, cancer had affected our lives from such an early age. What could we do though? As a junior high school teacher, I had done some small things like having my students put together care packages and write poems and stories for young patients. But there must be something more for us to do.

In January 2003 one of my husband's good friends, Chad, lost his battle against leukemia. He was 31 years old when he took his last breath with his mom on one side and his young wife on the other. I've thought of Chad's mom often. She had two children – Chad and his older brother who lost his life to leukemia at the age of 12. Their mother had the appalling task of burying both of her children. This wretched disease has got to be stopped!

Chad left behind two small children and a group of family and friends who will mourn to their graves. His death was very difficult for Bill, but it served to intensify our desire to somehow do something to fight it. Two months later, we traveled to Europe to visit my parents who were living in Spain. We shared our desire to reach out to the cancer community and they encouraged us. On the trip home, I had a strong feeling that very soon we would be heading down to MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. I was right.

On Tuesday, October 14, 2003, just before 10:00 in the morning, my husband Bill phoned from his visit to an orthopedic doctor. I expected him to tell me his rotator cuff had been torn and a surgery date was set. Instead Bill said, "I have cancer."

Two days later, we walked through the doors of MD Anderson Cancer Center and began filling out mountains of papers at "New Patient Registration". Bill was handed a blue card with his patient ID and in an instant my strong, 37-year-old, athletic husband became a cancer patient.

His diagnosis was follicular lymphoma, normally an indolent low-grade type of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma that had become aggressive and was now stage four. His bone marrow was almost completely replaced by cancer and multiple tumors were found throughout his body. He began intensive chemo treatments immediately and I quickly realized why it's called the "War Against Cancer". We fought with every ounce of strength against this monster disease. Our entire family and many good friends fought, each of us with various roles. Our two young children Morgan and Dylan proved that courage often comes in small packages as they struggled daily to overcome their fears.

It would take some time, but finally one day I realized how lucky I was. First I was lucky to marry my best friend. Then I was lucky to have some great years, both of us being athletes. I was lucky most of all because I got to learn how to love my husband in sickness and in health. Out of all the people on the planet, I got to be the one driving him to and from the Texas Medical Center at all hours day and night. I got to be the one sitting in the waiting room praying for him when they were drilling a hole into his bone to suck out the marrow. I got to be the one by his side in the chemo unit while poison pumped through his veins. I got to be the one awake with him at night while he was sick in the bathroom. And as harsh as it all seems, I also got to be the one in the room with him when Dr. Hagemeister walked in and said, "You're in complete remission".

That was a good day. But treatments were not close to over. He had to endure more months of harsh chemotherapy and follow that with two more years of maintenance treatments to keep him in remission. You see, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma is incurable. So even though we've won some crucial battles, the war against cancer is not over. My husband has defied the disease in many ways, though. Only five months after completing the intensive chemo, he crossed the finish line in the Stonebridge Ranch Triathlon in McKinney, Texas. And although he continued monoclonal antibody treatments through June 2006, he continued to compete in multiple triathlons and even finished the Houston Marathon this January in under four hours.

Bill inspired us all. Our children and I began competing in triathlon events shortly after Bill's first. We figured if he could do it after having his body riddled with cancer and pumped full of toxins, we could do it too. I ran the Houston Marathon in January with him, raising funds for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's endurance sports program Team in Training. That was so much fun and since I qualified, I decided to run Boston three months later. We've found a way of bringing sickness and health together to combat blood-related cancers.

It's been said that if you cure blood cancer, you cure cancer. Research is vital. Leukemia survival rates have improved vastly, yet it remains the number one childhood disease killer. Lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and Myeloma kill thousands each year as well. Our family is surviving and living well, but we are still at war. We battle it out through the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's programs. We raise funds through Team in Training and Light the Night. We speak to members of congress who make laws affecting cancer research. We do First Connections, making contact with people who are newly diagnosed to try to help them through the difficulty of cancer. Our kids wrote a book about their experience helping their dad fight lymphoma and that book has been sent out nationwide with hopes of touching lives and inspiring people to fight their sickness and prevail.

When long ago, I sat by my baby brother's side in a hospital room at Texas Children's Hospital, I could not have imagined doing it again with the man I'd marry. I feel privileged. Now I know many people, young and old, who have bravely fought that thief cancer. I've had the blessing of helping them fight and the further blessing of fighting still for as long as it takes to cure cancer. May we someday be blessed to say, "We have won the war!"