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Wall of Hope
Wall of Hope
At the 2009 Middle and East Tennessee Light the Night Walks, participants created a Wall of Hope by hanging mementos, photographs and handwritten stories of how blood cancer has touched their lives from a wall in the Mission Tent. Since then, we have continued to honor those affected by blood cancer by asking walk participants to share their photos and stories every year - both at the walks and here on our website.
You can Email Tricia Ward your Wall of Hope story. If you include a photo, please send as a high resolution JPEG or GIF images only (250x150 pixels or smaller).
Please be sure to bring paper, photos and any other materials you want to use for the Wall of Hope to the actual walk as well.
Team Bryant
On July 26, 2010, I lost my precious child Bryant to Hodgkin's Lymphoma. This was the first day that changed my life forever. Bryant had many names - Bryant, BB, Tiny Bud, Bud, and Dilbert - but I prefer to call him Bryant. At the age of sixteen and 6' 3" he wasn't so "Tiny" anymore. I knew the request would come one day to stop calling him Tiny Bud, a name my mother tagged him with the day he was born. I respected that request and he's been Bryant ever since. Although, he will forever remain, my Tiny Bud.
If you have ever watched a loved one battle cancer, you know it's not the physical actions but the attitude and perseverance that prove someone's true strength. Regardless of the fact he lost his battle, he never lost his will to live, his sweet smile and the ability to make everyone around him laugh.
Cancer can certainly test your faith and make you dwell on the bad news you receive. Bryant was diagnosed in November, 2009 and he told me on Thanksgiving Day. This was a Thanksgiving I will never forget. However grim the news, he continued to tell me it was going to be ok and determined he was going to get through it and come out stronger on the other side. He kept every doctor's appointment, arrived early to every chemotherapy treatment and met every commitment related to his treatment. Bryant wanted to live.
I was recently going through some of his paperwork from all of the doctors who had a hand in his treatment and on one of his visits the doctor had asked what one of his long-term goals was. His response, "to live." I also recently ran across some homework from the 8th grade. One of the questions was, "What would you do if your child needed a heart and you were the only immediate match. Would you give him your heart?" His response, "I would want my child to have a long and healthy life and if that meant giving him my heart, then he would have it. He deserves to have the chance to live as long as I have, and hopefully longer." He was eight years old at the time! His caring, unselfish heart was ever present, even at that very young age. Bryant considered everyone he met a friend and wanted to take care of those he loved, his family and friends.
He was very good at getting people to laugh. You could be having the worst day, and after having a conversation with him, you're nearly in tears from laughing so hard. After his passing, I heard this repeatedly from his friends.
It is heartbreaking to watch your child suffer to the point of death. I have only asked myself one time "why HIM? Why did HE have to get cancer?" Now I know that it's because God knew he would be strong enough to handle it and teach all that knew him a lesson about life in the process. Bryant taught me so much about life in general. Knowing that my time with him was way too short and came to an end way too soon breaks my heart. There are many times I simply still cannot picture my life without him. But, they say you're not supposed to think about what you're losing - think about what you've had. I have had a wonderful experience of raising an absolutely wonderful child and see him grow into a wonderful man.
Dreams for Michelle
Just before Christmas 2009, my baby sister went to the ER because she was vomiting and was told that she had Leukemia. Her 23 year old body had already been suffering, but her doctors had previously been unable to find a cause for her emaciated state. That was the year her boys (then ages 3 and 4) spent their first Christmas without their Mommy as she was admitted to the hospital.
We asked around and found out that some of the best hospitals in cancer research were right there in Chicago. I used to be mad that she moved away with her boyfriend, but now I thank God everyday that she was in Chicago when she got sick. Rush Hospital took over her care, and went to extreme measures to include her in any experimental treatments they could. She was eventually diagnosed with Acute Mylomonocytic Leukemia.
Many of you know the rest of the story, the two year battle with Leukemia, with my faith, with doctors and family, with hope, with denial, and even with my sister. We wore down the path between Murfreesboro and Rush Hospital and there was more than one trip that was made in sheer panic. Through all of the ups and downs it really looked like she was meant to beat all odds. Beat it she did and when she was finally in remission she moved here to try to start over closer to her family. For six months she got her oldest to the bus stop and stayed home with her youngest each day, she spent Christmas and Easter at Mom's with the whole family, she spent one more birthday Cancer free, and she got to be there for one more birthday party for her boys.
I will never forget the sound of my Mom's voice when she called me to ask me to come meet them. The Leukemia was back, and my sister wasn't sure she was going to fight again. Eventually, Vanderbilt laid it all out there for us, gave her a 20% chance of surviving another round. Surprisingly enough, 20% was enough for her and fight she did. She said that as a mom, she owed it to her boys to fight if there were ANY odds. She couldn't show them that she didn't love them enough to fight, or that it is ok to give up. She kicked Leukemia's rear one more time, and again it looked like she could beat all odds.
When my sister's 100 day tests were done, she was sent home to celebrate remission again. When those results came back a few days later, so had the Leukemia. This time, there were no odds or percentages to discuss, only timeframes. She had 6 weeks to live. The last time I saw her awake, I was sure she was nowhere near done. She had been baking and crafting with my kids all day, and while I was there she came running out with my oldest in a coordinated silly string attack. She was so thankful for that perfect day that I probably should have known.
On December 23rd, 2011, I was working and checked my phone on my way to lunch. "Michelle is unresponsive" the message said, "they said this is it." My co-workers took me back into the branch, called my husband and helped me get shut down to leave for the day. I sat with my family through the night fighting before her fight ended at 5am on Christmas Eve. When her boys got the news, the oldest one (now 7) rejoiced, dancing around the room saying "Mommy is everywhere, I can feel her everywhere." It was a good Christmas for them, Mommy was with Jesus on his birthday.
Team Old McDonald
The strongest man I know only weighs 125 pounds, which is 40 pounds less than he weighed five months ago. The strongest man I know can't even swallow water because it's too thick, or stand for more than ten minutes at a time without becoming dizzy. This man goes by many names - Jim, James, Richard, Dad, Brother, Uncle - but I prefer to just call him Grampa. If you've ever watched a loved one battle cancer, you know it's not the physical actions but the attitude and perseverance that proves somebody's true strength. My Grampa has been able to keep his faith, his head held high, and his great, upbeat personality despite the fact that he's dying from cancer.
Cancer can test your faith and make you dwell on the bad news you may receive. My Grampa is very dedicated to his religion. It's not every day you can say you've met someone who has read the Bible four times all the way through, and he is very proud to say he is only five books away from reading it the fifth time. In April, the doctors told us that the chemo and radiation treatments were doing more harm to his body than to the tumor itself, so he decided to quit receiving treatments and they only gave him six months to live. I don't know how I would react to hearing a doctor tell me that, but his reply was, "Well, I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm on God's time, not doctor time." Two months later in June, he had a doctor appointment on my birthday. The tumor had shrunk! The doctors were amazed that it was shrinking without any treatment at all. Later that day, I thanked him for the best birthday present he could have ever given me. He said, "Not me, God did it." Unfortunately, the tumor is not getting any smaller. It has actually grown so rapidly it is taking up his entire throat. He can't talk anymore and has to use a pen and paper to communicate. He can't swallow or eat, so he has had to use a feeding tube. Right now, his trache is his lifeline; without it, he would not be able to breathe. The doctors are saying there's nothing more they can do, and that we should take each day as a blessing.
Even though my Grampa cannot talk, he still has his same goofy sense of humor. There is not a nurse at the Hendersonville Hospital that has not been hit on or proposed to by my Grampa. They would reach for his IV and his hand would be there to stop them. He would look the nurse in the eyes and say, "Honey, you are the most beautiful nurse I have ever seen. What do you say when I get out of here, we go get married?" You might think they would take this the wrong way, but somehow they all understood he just wanted to get a laugh and a smile. He's very good at getting people to laugh. You can be having the worst day, and after having a conversation with him, you're near tears from laughing so hard.
I used to ask myself why, why HIM, why did HE have to get cancer? But now, I know that it's because God knew he would be strong enough to handle it and to not let it ruin his life. My Grampa has taught me so much about life in general and how to handle situations that may come your way, even if they are something you did not want. Knowing that my time with him is coming to an end breaks my heart. I can't picture my life without him. But they say you?re not supposed to think about what you're losing - think about what you've had. And I have had a wonderful experience of getting to know an absolutely wonderful man for eighteen years. I consider myself blessed to get to call him my Grampa.
- Katie Shoemaker
Casey Coble
Casey Coble was diagnosed with ALL in March of 2006 at 23 years old. As a former collegiate swimmer at the University of North Carolina, he felt that there was little that could stop him physically, but his journey to remission has been daunting.
After being diagnosed, he underwent the lengthy chemotherapy that leukemia patients experience, with numerous hurdles health hurdles along the way. Many hospital stays later after almost a year of chemotherapy, the leukemia was gone.
About a year and a half later, while going for a run Casey felt more tired than usual. He decided he might as well go to the doctor and tests came back indicating the leukemia had returned. This news was devastating, but he fortunately caught it early. The doctors informed him that he needed a bone marrow transplant. His sister was tested but was not a match. He turned to the national bone marrow registry and he waited to find a suitable match. His chemotherapy intensified, requiring 5-day hospital stays and spinal doses; however, he got extremely ill with a 105.5 degree fever that would not drop. This turned out to be a blood infection, and he immediately developed pneumonia as well. This was one of the low points for his family as the reality of the situation hit them head on. Casey continued to battle, recovered, and waited for results from the registry.
Ten weeks later, there still was no match. The doctors decided to perform the transplant using umbilical cord blood. In early January 2010, Casey had his transplant. For 66 days his blood counts did not improve and he somehow remained healthy without an immune system. His doctors acknowledged he would need another transplant.
The registry found an acceptable match and he went ahead with the second transplant. The 100-day milestone was this past August, which he met with normal counts and good health. The cancer is in remission and Casey is back to living a normal life.
As a close friend of Casey, what I find remarkable about the situation is how the bad can bring out the good in people. Through the roller coaster of events including having leukemia twice, experiencing numerous infections with countless weeks in the hospital, and having a transplant fail, his family became closer, his friends are more loyal, and we all appreciate the loved ones that we have. We all are grateful for his recovery, and the efforts of organizations to advance this cause play a central force in allowing Casey and others to become cancer-free.
- Eric Mohr
John Marlin John Marlin was diagnosed with AML (acute myelogenous leukemia) in October of 2003 at 12-years-old. At that time, he was given a 33% chance of survival. John underwent chemotherapy, radiation and a bone marrow transplant in January 2004. John's cancer has been in remission for nearly 7 years. He is off of all medications and has yearly visits to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital for blood counts and tests on his vital organs. John is now 19-years-old. He loves to be outdoors hunting, fishing and playing golf. He is a full-time employee of Kroger and is still trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. John is interested in educating others about leukemia and the importance of fundraising for cures. He has spoken at an all children forum about relating to others with various special needs. John's family and friends have a team of fundraising walkers who have participated in the Society's Light the Night Walk in his honor for the past five years. John was the Boy of the Year for the Society's Man and Woman of the Year campaign in 2006. He has also been part of Pennies for Patients and Team in Training. John and his family know that without caring, loving people to fundraise, John would not have had the best chance of surviving his cancer. We are truly grateful for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society!!
What a HANDSOME young man! Course, I'm prejudiced because I'm his Mom. This is Rob Bundy, and let me tell you, HE'S A FIGHTER. In fact, HE'S A GLADIATOR! Rob has been diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia TWICE in the past three years. It is devastating enough to endure radiation and chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant one time...but TWO?? It is heartbreaking to watch your child suffer to the point of death. To watch his brother try to save Rob's life by being his stem cell donor TWICE. To watch his sister work so hard to raise support for the LLS through t-shirt sales, jewelry sales and corporate sponsorship and to be there for her little brother. To have my husband and myself uproot ourselves to be in NYC to be care-givers for Rob. All of this is HARD...but it is worth it and we would do it AGAIN because Rob is alive and back to work in NYC. We are THE GLADIATORS and we work hard to raise support for the LLS. We work because we have received their support in the past and because we have HOPE for Rob's future, due to the research and development funded by the LLS. We HOPE Rob will never again be diagnosed with ALL, but if he is, we know there will be new protocols and procedures in place to save his life. Some of these will be in place because Rob has been a part of the research through participation in clinical trials. We will always have HOPE...and through the grace of God, we will have Rob.
Hi my name is Brian Link. I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma in August of 2009. It was really hard when I found out that I had Lymphoma. It was hard on me, my friends and my family but, we all went into it with a positive outlook. You can't go into it with a negative outlook because it will bring you down and it will make the entire experience not good. I found out about Light The Night from my oncologist. I had heard of it before from taking donations at work but didn't know what it was. After seeing the brochure in the office I decided to join and do the walk. It was hard on me to do the walk because I had just had a treatment two days before. With the support of my friends and family that walked with me, I made it to the end. It was a very special night for me. I'm really looking forward to the Light The Night Walk for 2010. As of February 2010, I'm in remission. It was one of the most exciting things anyone has ever told me. I started back to work and I was able to get my port-a-cath taken out. After experiencing cancer I realized that it could have been worse than what it was for me. I think if you just go into it with your head up, then you will have a better outlook on it in the end. Cancer is what it is. Just make sure you beat it and don't let it beat you.
Amanda "Mandi" Carlisle Conway Our story begins with Mandi's diagnosis of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma in August 2007. At this point in her life, she was happily married with a little boy who had just turned a year old. She had been to several doctors regarding her symptoms and an odd egg-shaped knot in her chest. Finally, one nurse practitioner did an X-ray and found fluid around her heart. She referred Mandi to Tennessee Heart in Cookeville. Her doctor there removed the fluid and in performing testing on the fluid, found the lymphoma. Mandi was 26 years old. The doctor at Cookeville Regional told her that if she had to have cancer, this was the best kind to have since it was the easiest to cure. She began her chemotherapy immediately. In January/February 2008, Mandi switched doctors and started seeing Dr. Diana Shipley in Gallatin at Sumner Regional. Dr. Shipley gave Mandi a different type of chemo than what she'd started out with and it seemed to work. Dr. Shipley gave Mandi some options, one of which was the stem cell transplant. Mandi opted to go with that and the process began of testing each of her five sisters for a match. Her match was the oldest sister, Melanie. At the end of May, Melanie began donor preparations while Mandi began recipient preparations. There was a positive attitude among all involved that this would be a successful transplant and remission would be imminent. The stem cell transplant was done in June 2008 and by September 2008, she was home and feeling fairly well. My parents took her to Disney World in October 2008 as a celebration of what she?d been through. By Thanksgiving, she was not feeling as well and she had a mass in her abdominal area. In December 2008, she found out that the lymphoma was back. Christmas was very somber and her family was thankful to have her. In January 2009, she became very ill and the family was told that her one option was a chemotherapy that had a 1% chance of working IF it didn?t kill her. She opted to take that chance. A white cell infusion was done in February with the hope of boosting her immune system. She was steadily declining. On March 13, 2009, she came home to her parents' house with hospice. Over the next few days, she lapsed into a coma and left this earth for her home in Heaven on March 18, 2009, in the early morning hours. Mandi was a beloved wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. She left her husband Joseph, her son Riley, her parents Mark and Marie, her sisters Melanie, Molly, Marki, Morgan and McKenzie, her parents-in-law Harry and Hannalore, and all her family and friends with broken hearts.
Team Tanner Church Fundraiser These pics of the kids at church... they were so awesome! Preschool through 5th graders. Our church raised at least $2,400 for Team Tanner yesterday!!! That will put us at $14,600, including the $700 in checks that still need to be applied to our total. Crazy, huh? Then, the Tennessean photo is coming out today and they are going to publish her team address, so we might just get some donations out of that. Nutty, nutty. I LOVE it! Tanner smiling in disbelief as the kids just kept emptying money into the collection box.
Steve Thomas Fundraising Letter from Denise Thomas dated August 31, 2010: Hello all, Last year at this time I drafted a letter and sent it out asking for donations to be made to The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society?s Light The Night Walk. My letter began by talking about Steve being diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia on September 25, 2007, and explaining about his subsequent Bone Marrow Transplant in January of 2008. The letter was dated August 25, 2009. At that time, Steve was doing very well. He was 19 months from his transplant and was finally beginning to feel good again. He had gotten to the point of being able to work most days, with the exception of the dates we had appointments with doctors. His blood levels had all come up to almost within normal ranges. On October 1 of last year, Steve, Carly, and I were able to participate in the Light The Night Walk. Although Steve was not physically able to walk the 1.75 miles, we attended the opening events that night and got to experience first-hand the festivities and lighted balloons. Carly and some dear friends walked for us. Shortly after that, Steve and I were able to travel to Virginia to spend a few days with Cody and Stefanie, and then on the 15th of October we celebrated our 31st wedding anniversary. I ended my letter last year by emphasizing that during the time of Steve?s illness we had lost many friends to the disease, and stated that we would be participating in honor of those we had lost with hopes that someday there wouldn?t be as many patients who would lose their fights with blood cancers. I had no way of knowing that I would be asking for donations this year in memory of Steve. He lost his fight with Leukemia on April of this year. He has been gone now for four months and life is very much different for our family now. I will not be walking this year, but am very passionate about asking for donations. If you would be interested in walking, we?d love to have you walk in memory of Steve. If you would be interested in donating financially, any amount is helpful. You may donate online (link below) or I?ll take a check and forward it on. Please don?t feel obligated, but know that we appreciate any gift you may give. The link to my page is
Rob Bundy
Brian Link
I had six rounds of chemotherapy. I wasn't sure how it was going to affect me. Everyone hears stories about how bad chemotherapy is and how it affects people. When I got my first chemotherapy treatment it was weird because I had never experienced anything like it before. Yes, I did get a little sick, but I was never that bad. I was extremely tired and had low energy all the time, but I stay active all the time. I did anything I could do to keep the situation off my mind. Staying on your feet and being active will help you out a lot. If you are able to do stuff while you have cancer I encourage you to do it. You have to beat it and not let it beat you.
March 10, 1981 - March 18, 2009
Denise and Carly Thomas
Stefanie and Cody Businda
Tanner Page
As Team Tanner crossed the Shelby Street Bridge during last year?s Light the Night Walk, I looked behind me and in front of me to see thousands of illuminated balloons. Somewhere around the middle of the pack was a white balloon attached to a red wagon carrying a pale but determined six-year-old propped up on pillows and wrapped in a pink High School Musical blanket. That child was my daughter and I was more proud of her in that moment than I have ever been before.
Tanner had started a particularly hard phase of treatment that day and had spent the afternoon sleeping and throwing up. I went ahead of Tanner and my husband to meet the team. Right before the event, John called me to tell me she was too sick to come and my heart sank. She had raised nearly $400 for the event by selling lemonade, collecting loose change and asking the tooth fairy for an extra twenty. While we were on the phone, Tanner got up and firmly insisted she was coming.
Tanner arrived, packed in her wagon, pale and with a tired smile on her face, but happy. She never got out of the wagon except to go the bathroom and, even then, I carried her the few steps to and from the port-a-pottie. But she never complained. She made it on sheer grit, a childlike desire for fun and a maturity I had never seen her show on this level.
The walk was a beautiful event. I thought I would be a weepy mess, but it was a mostly joyous event that was too uplifting to make me cry. Even those who were walking in memorial of a loved one seemed to be celebrating a life lived well, if not ended well. That night, Tanner learned that there are lots of people with cancer, there are tons of people who love her and that she is never alone in this journey, although she probably feels like it sometimes.
On the way home, I looked into the rearview mirror to see my little girl, asleep with a chain of glow bracelets looped over her ears and dangling down, ridiculously. She looked beautiful and strong, even though she was pale and physically weak, and I marveled at her determination.
This is my daughter, Tanner Page, and she is fighting cancer tooth and nail.
-Beth Page
