Lessons from Cancer Survivors

A lot has changed in two and a half decades.

When I was in college I began noticing how many people had been affected by cancer in some way, and it certainly wasn't just older relatives. It was mothers, fathers, teachers, supervisors, church friends, neighbors, classmates and occasionally the individuals themselves.

In the early eighties, in my family's experience, whether it was my grandmother and great-aunt or my mother's 40-year-old work friend, cancer was something you died from. Since then, I've learned it is also something many people struggle to live with on a day-by-day basis.

It wasn't until I met Eileen, a Mary Kay sales director living in Kansas, that I understood the importance of donating money to cancer research.

Eileen, in her late thirties when I first met her, is someone who has been living with cancer for several years. She once explained that the reason donors are constantly funneling funds into cancer research is not simply so medical researchers can find one across-the-board cure. That money is also used to come up with new treatments, so that when one type has been exhausted and is no longer working, there is another option to try the next time.

I'm certainly not well-versed in the details of cancer research, but the importance of my personal contribution, however modest, became more real to me when she put it that way.

Last year, my mom told me that a little boy she used to babysit, someone whose family once went to our church, had been diagnosed with cancer. Also the son of one of my middle school math teachers, J.D. Miller was only 20 years old when he found out he had a tumor in his chest. While everyone was saddened at a cancer diagnosis in someone so young, J.D. has managed to demonstrate that he is the last person in the world anyone should pity.

Studying to be a teacher at Indiana State University at the time he was diagnosed, J.D. has undergone numerous expensive treatments and surgical procedures that have left him exhausted -- but still optimistic.

At a fundraiser at Dairy Castle earlier this year, J.D. was socializing with supporters and well-wishers, candidly talking about his Christian faith and showcasing his handiwork from My Knit Hat Company, the on-line business he started after learning to knit his own hats. Along with driving back and forth to various medical appointments, J.D. has also managed to find the time and energy to take on leadership roles in education and in raising cancer awareness, and even teaches students at Tzouanakis Elementary School.

Although J.D. is an adult now, I clearly recall an afternoon many years ago when he was about three or four years old. He and another little boy were being quite feisty, and J.D. went running full speed at my brother, who was in his early twenties at the time.

Predictably, J.D. fell over like he'd hit a wall, but instead of crying or remaining on the floor where he'd been knocked down, he immediately popped up, put up his fists and announced, "That's why they call me The Flea."

Being able to follow the medical challenges of stars like Farrah Fawcett and Patrick Swayze in the media is not uncommon anymore. Whether or not they want to reveal them, celebrities' private moments are often shared with the public. For private individuals, sharing the experience of living with cancer means going out of their way to talk to friends, family, community members and sometimes total strangers in order to educate, motivate, inspire and request support. Even with a strong spirit and optimistic outlook, the cost of medication, treatment, commuting and everyday expenses means that we each have the opportunity to reach out and directly benefit someone in our community -- even someone as tough as "The Flea."

For more information about J.D.'s company, go to www.myknithat.com.

For more information about fundraising for J.D., go to www.fundraiserforjd.com.