Meet Our Cancer Champions
Tricia Johnson
WE DID IT!!! With your support and fundraising efforts... and Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research... TRICIA IS CANCER FREE!
Everyday Tricia is reminded how important research is to fighting cancer. Tricia is thankful for those that give of their time and resources so that she can look in the mirror and say "I am Cancer Free". We won! June 18, 2014!
"When the world says, 'Give up", Hope whispers, "Try it one more time" ~Author Unknown. This sums up Tricia's Story. Dance till joy overtakes your heart and your feet just keep going!
Tricia's diagnosis with late-stage uterine sarcoma came in 2002. With less than a 1% percent survival rate, she persevered. Tricia diligently searched for the best medical team to handle her case and provide that "fighting chance". At Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, she found a team with the same passion to fight and never give up. Through surgery and a full year of intense radiation and chemotherapy her cancer went into remission.
Tricia resumed her prosperous life. She is a respected attorney in her community and a determined advocate for her clients. Prior to her career in law, Tricia's life revolved around dance. Elizabeth, of Elizabeth's Dance Dimensions was her teacher and now the Executive Artistic Director of Dance for a Cure. Tricia was a cheerleader on the nationally acclaimed University of Washington Husky cheerleading squad and a member of the NBA Seattle Supersonics dance team.
Unfortunately, this disease had much more fight left in it. Sarcomas are tricky – they hide and almost always return. In July 2004, the cancer returned in the form of six inoperable metastatic tumors. This news was frightening for Tricia and her family and incomprehensible…she was only 35! This diagnosis would have left many feeling hopeless. But Tricia would not give up and neither did her medical team.
Tricia’s medical team immediately began aggressive, cutting-edge treatments. Doctors from across the country were consulted on the case. This included extreme, experimental procedures. Although the treatment plan was groundbreaking and aggressive, it did not kill the “one” monster. After many meetings, considerations, and prayers, her medical team performed a procedure that had never been contemplated or done before on this type of tumor. During the course of her battle, Tricia lost sight in one eye and became color blind. True to her Great Spirit and attitude, her biggest concern was how she was going to avoid putting outfits together that would not clash! She persevered.
Tricia found the love of her life while enduring this battle and thanks to cancer research and the power of love in the fall of 2005, Tricia's cancer was once again in remission!
For many years Tricia Fought the long-term damage cancer and its treatments can do the body. It was an ongoing process, but in the meantime, her law practice flourished and she married that love of her life.
Tricia, her husband Matt, and their family and friends are bracing through Tricia's latest diagnosis. Her cancer was back, in the form of another inoperable brain tumor. There was more treatments to endure and more research to be done.
Tricia underwent extensive and severe chemotherapy and radiation. Tricia, Matt, their family and friends never gave up hope... They continued to fight. "Trying one more time" no matter how many one more times they were faced with.
Today, Tricia is cancer free. With every breath she takes and every day she is blessed with, she owes it to Fred Hutch and donors that raise their paddle, attend Dance for a Cure, and recognize that every dollar they give changes lives and gives life!
Life can be like lightening, a flash of brightness that is gone in an instant. Have a ball and share your beautiful gift with others. PLEASE DONATE YOUR TIME AND MONEY TO THIS WORTHY CAUSE. There is no more powerful gift than giving someone a new lease on life. Our hope is that Dance for a Cure will move and inspire you, reaching into the very core of who you are. Please make a difference today so WE CAN FIND A CURE TOGETHER and DANCE FOREVER.
Everyday Tricia is reminded how important research is to fighting cancer. Tricia is thankful for those that give of their time and resources so that she can look in the mirror and say "I am Cancer Free". We won! June 18, 2014!
"When the world says, 'Give up", Hope whispers, "Try it one more time" ~Author Unknown. This sums up Tricia's Story. Dance till joy overtakes your heart and your feet just keep going!
Tricia's diagnosis with late-stage uterine sarcoma came in 2002. With less than a 1% percent survival rate, she persevered. Tricia diligently searched for the best medical team to handle her case and provide that "fighting chance". At Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, she found a team with the same passion to fight and never give up. Through surgery and a full year of intense radiation and chemotherapy her cancer went into remission.
Tricia resumed her prosperous life. She is a respected attorney in her community and a determined advocate for her clients. Prior to her career in law, Tricia's life revolved around dance. Elizabeth, of Elizabeth's Dance Dimensions was her teacher and now the Executive Artistic Director of Dance for a Cure. Tricia was a cheerleader on the nationally acclaimed University of Washington Husky cheerleading squad and a member of the NBA Seattle Supersonics dance team.
Unfortunately, this disease had much more fight left in it. Sarcomas are tricky – they hide and almost always return. In July 2004, the cancer returned in the form of six inoperable metastatic tumors. This news was frightening for Tricia and her family and incomprehensible…she was only 35! This diagnosis would have left many feeling hopeless. But Tricia would not give up and neither did her medical team.
Tricia’s medical team immediately began aggressive, cutting-edge treatments. Doctors from across the country were consulted on the case. This included extreme, experimental procedures. Although the treatment plan was groundbreaking and aggressive, it did not kill the “one” monster. After many meetings, considerations, and prayers, her medical team performed a procedure that had never been contemplated or done before on this type of tumor. During the course of her battle, Tricia lost sight in one eye and became color blind. True to her Great Spirit and attitude, her biggest concern was how she was going to avoid putting outfits together that would not clash! She persevered.
Tricia found the love of her life while enduring this battle and thanks to cancer research and the power of love in the fall of 2005, Tricia's cancer was once again in remission!
For many years Tricia Fought the long-term damage cancer and its treatments can do the body. It was an ongoing process, but in the meantime, her law practice flourished and she married that love of her life.
Tricia, her husband Matt, and their family and friends are bracing through Tricia's latest diagnosis. Her cancer was back, in the form of another inoperable brain tumor. There was more treatments to endure and more research to be done.
Tricia underwent extensive and severe chemotherapy and radiation. Tricia, Matt, their family and friends never gave up hope... They continued to fight. "Trying one more time" no matter how many one more times they were faced with.
Today, Tricia is cancer free. With every breath she takes and every day she is blessed with, she owes it to Fred Hutch and donors that raise their paddle, attend Dance for a Cure, and recognize that every dollar they give changes lives and gives life!
Life can be like lightening, a flash of brightness that is gone in an instant. Have a ball and share your beautiful gift with others. PLEASE DONATE YOUR TIME AND MONEY TO THIS WORTHY CAUSE. There is no more powerful gift than giving someone a new lease on life. Our hope is that Dance for a Cure will move and inspire you, reaching into the very core of who you are. Please make a difference today so WE CAN FIND A CURE TOGETHER and DANCE FOREVER.
2020 Cancer Champion: Jackson Barber
On October 2007, Jackson was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia (ALL). At the age of 3 he began his three-year battle with cancer which included aggressive chemotherapy treatment.
We are now pleased to announce that Jackson has been cancer-free for over a decade. We have so much gratitude to the people in our lives who have surrounded us with love, friendship and support throughout this journey.
Jackson has a passion for creative design and loves Halloween. He started creating his home haunts at the age of 10 and in 2018 ventured into the professional haunt arena. He has been visiting Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights (HHN) annually since 2017 and has been fortunate to have one-on-one backstage tours each season with John Murdy, Creative Director and Chris Williams, Art Director for Universal Studios HHN. John also started his career as a house haunter at the age of 10. John and Chris have been hugely inspirational to Jackson in pursuing his career within the industry.
As a leukemia survivor and haunt creator, it is Jackson's desire to support children diagnosed with critical illnesses by combining his passion for Make-a-Wish and Halloween.
On October 2007, Jackson was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia (ALL). At the age of 3 he began his three-year battle with cancer which included aggressive chemotherapy treatment.
We are now pleased to announce that Jackson has been cancer-free for over a decade. We have so much gratitude to the people in our lives who have surrounded us with love, friendship and support throughout this journey.
Jackson has a passion for creative design and loves Halloween. He started creating his home haunts at the age of 10 and in 2018 ventured into the professional haunt arena. He has been visiting Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights (HHN) annually since 2017 and has been fortunate to have one-on-one backstage tours each season with John Murdy, Creative Director and Chris Williams, Art Director for Universal Studios HHN. John also started his career as a house haunter at the age of 10. John and Chris have been hugely inspirational to Jackson in pursuing his career within the industry.
As a leukemia survivor and haunt creator, it is Jackson's desire to support children diagnosed with critical illnesses by combining his passion for Make-a-Wish and Halloween.
2019 Cancer Champion: Hunter Coffman
On December 28th, 2015, our world shattered when we learned our youngest son, Hunter was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Upon learning the tumor was cancerous and had spread throughout his brain and spine, he immediately went in for surgery, then began a nearly yearlong treatment of chemotherapy and proton radiation.
At the end of treatment Hunter was declared cancer free. I would be only 9 months later we would find the cancer had returned. With no options left, we faced the devastating reality that Hunter would not win this battle.
On March 23, 2018 our sweet Hunter took his last earthly breath and returned home to Heaven. It would also be the ver first day of our grief journey.
Where there is deep pain, we have also found unimaginable joy. We have seen firsthand how family, friends, and a community of people come along side of you during the darkest times and beauty can be seen. We have tried to focus on Hunters great strength and faith, so we can navigate this life without him and do what can seem impossible, find joy in the pain. He was the strongest child we have ever known, he taught us to much, he prepared us for this journey. While we thought we were teaching him all about life, it turns out, he was teaching us.
On December 28th, 2015, our world shattered when we learned our youngest son, Hunter was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Upon learning the tumor was cancerous and had spread throughout his brain and spine, he immediately went in for surgery, then began a nearly yearlong treatment of chemotherapy and proton radiation.
At the end of treatment Hunter was declared cancer free. I would be only 9 months later we would find the cancer had returned. With no options left, we faced the devastating reality that Hunter would not win this battle.
On March 23, 2018 our sweet Hunter took his last earthly breath and returned home to Heaven. It would also be the ver first day of our grief journey.
Where there is deep pain, we have also found unimaginable joy. We have seen firsthand how family, friends, and a community of people come along side of you during the darkest times and beauty can be seen. We have tried to focus on Hunters great strength and faith, so we can navigate this life without him and do what can seem impossible, find joy in the pain. He was the strongest child we have ever known, he taught us to much, he prepared us for this journey. While we thought we were teaching him all about life, it turns out, he was teaching us.
2017 Cancer Champion: Robert K. Brown
During my junior year in college I was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). This was in late February of 1990, near the end of six months of studying abroad in Lancaster, England. Getting into a fight with cancer while I was halfway across the world was not something I'd expected to take on before my twenty-first birthday.
After a hurried flight back home to Seattle, I began what would be about six months of treatment at the University of Washington Medical Center. I'd require four separate weeks of 24x7 chemotherapy that got stronger as I got stronger throughout the spring and summer. Each of those "batches" of chemo would temporarily shut down my immune system for weeks at a time, and my family and friends and I would hold our breath and cross our fingers, often smiling and laughing our way through those dark days.
And we DID make it through.
There was a particularly unlucky complication late in my treatment -- brain and eye infections that meant opening up my skull to determine the most effective course of medication -- but even that didn't prevent me from walking out of the UWMC for the last time in October of 1990.
Of course I had regular blood draws and follow up appointments over the weeks, months, and years that followed. My leukemia was gone, though. I was in remission. Later, that word changed to "cured." Even later, my doctors would tell me that I was "cancer free."
Life continued to move forward. I did my best to push my experience into the past. I was happy to have survived at the same time I desparately wanted to forget it had ever happened.
Not long after the birth of my first daughter in 1997, I realized that I had to give back. Something. Anything. I'd been so lucky, so incredibly fortunate to have survived my battle almost entirely unscathed, when so many others do not. The following year I chose to tackle my first-ever marathon while also raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America. I ran my second marathon two years after that, the same year my youngest daughter was born. Since then, I've added three more marathons -- including two in the same month, October of 2010, to celebrate twenty consecutive cancer-free years -- and have continued to give back in other ways, continuing to give thanks for nearly three additional decades of good health.
During my junior year in college I was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). This was in late February of 1990, near the end of six months of studying abroad in Lancaster, England. Getting into a fight with cancer while I was halfway across the world was not something I'd expected to take on before my twenty-first birthday.
After a hurried flight back home to Seattle, I began what would be about six months of treatment at the University of Washington Medical Center. I'd require four separate weeks of 24x7 chemotherapy that got stronger as I got stronger throughout the spring and summer. Each of those "batches" of chemo would temporarily shut down my immune system for weeks at a time, and my family and friends and I would hold our breath and cross our fingers, often smiling and laughing our way through those dark days.
And we DID make it through.
There was a particularly unlucky complication late in my treatment -- brain and eye infections that meant opening up my skull to determine the most effective course of medication -- but even that didn't prevent me from walking out of the UWMC for the last time in October of 1990.
Of course I had regular blood draws and follow up appointments over the weeks, months, and years that followed. My leukemia was gone, though. I was in remission. Later, that word changed to "cured." Even later, my doctors would tell me that I was "cancer free."
Life continued to move forward. I did my best to push my experience into the past. I was happy to have survived at the same time I desparately wanted to forget it had ever happened.
Not long after the birth of my first daughter in 1997, I realized that I had to give back. Something. Anything. I'd been so lucky, so incredibly fortunate to have survived my battle almost entirely unscathed, when so many others do not. The following year I chose to tackle my first-ever marathon while also raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America. I ran my second marathon two years after that, the same year my youngest daughter was born. Since then, I've added three more marathons -- including two in the same month, October of 2010, to celebrate twenty consecutive cancer-free years -- and have continued to give back in other ways, continuing to give thanks for nearly three additional decades of good health.
2015 Cancer Champion: Nina Garkavi
I went down to Miami with a plan to soak up the sun and enjoy some time off. I had just started my first post-college job in NYC and thought I was on the right track, but as they say, “man plans and G-d laughs.” Instead of lying on the sandy beach, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and spent five weeks in the ICU.
I endured two long brain surgeries and then was transferred back home to Seattle, where I went through five months of very aggressive treatments at Seattle Children’s Hospital (the best place to be, for the worst thing ever). I went from being the youngest patient at Mount Sinai Medical Hospital to being the oldest at Seattle Children’s.
After I finished treatment, I dove into the young adult (YA) cancer survivor community, a world I didn’t know existed. I participated in and challenged myself at different camps, experiencing new places and activities. Most importantly, I proved to myself that I could be strong once again. The programs provided me with a unique way of healing and tools for moving forward. They offered an unmatched support network, resources and lasting relationships.
During my journey, I began working towards an MPA at Seattle University, focusing on nonprofit organizations. Because I believe that YA programs are a powerful healing tool for other survivors, I make it my priority to advocate on their behalf, providing others with the resources that are available. As part of my efforts, I maintain a blog reminding others to look forward and embrace every moment.
Many people think that cancer ends when treatment does, but unfortunately that is only the beginning of a new and difficult transition. Life can be challenging, but despite the hardships I try my best to celebrate even the smallest successes.
Always remember, “yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift, which is why we call it the present.” Be on your journey and treasure your gift.
I went down to Miami with a plan to soak up the sun and enjoy some time off. I had just started my first post-college job in NYC and thought I was on the right track, but as they say, “man plans and G-d laughs.” Instead of lying on the sandy beach, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and spent five weeks in the ICU.
I endured two long brain surgeries and then was transferred back home to Seattle, where I went through five months of very aggressive treatments at Seattle Children’s Hospital (the best place to be, for the worst thing ever). I went from being the youngest patient at Mount Sinai Medical Hospital to being the oldest at Seattle Children’s.
After I finished treatment, I dove into the young adult (YA) cancer survivor community, a world I didn’t know existed. I participated in and challenged myself at different camps, experiencing new places and activities. Most importantly, I proved to myself that I could be strong once again. The programs provided me with a unique way of healing and tools for moving forward. They offered an unmatched support network, resources and lasting relationships.
During my journey, I began working towards an MPA at Seattle University, focusing on nonprofit organizations. Because I believe that YA programs are a powerful healing tool for other survivors, I make it my priority to advocate on their behalf, providing others with the resources that are available. As part of my efforts, I maintain a blog reminding others to look forward and embrace every moment.
Many people think that cancer ends when treatment does, but unfortunately that is only the beginning of a new and difficult transition. Life can be challenging, but despite the hardships I try my best to celebrate even the smallest successes.
Always remember, “yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift, which is why we call it the present.” Be on your journey and treasure your gift.
2012 Cancer Champion: Steve Edmiston
Steve Edmiston is a two-time Hopkins Lymphoma survivor; he completed a stem-cell transplant in 2010.
He is also an indie film screenwriter, game inventor, and attorney. Steve wrote and directed the upcoming The Periphery Project Volume I (2012) and The Periphery Project Volume II (2013). Previously, he wrote and co-produced Crimes of the Past (2009) (premiered on Lifetime, distributed by MarVista Entertainment), co-wrote the multiple-award-winning feature Farewell to Harry, and wrote and co-produced the feature A Relative Thing (2005). He also wrote and directed the award-winning short films The Day My Parents Became Cool. He teaches a masters degree course in film producing at the Seattle Film Institute.
Steve was also the co-founder of Front Porch Classics, where he created the FamilyFun Magazine Toy of the Year, Old Century Dread Pirate, among other games.
Steve focuses his law practice on helping creative companies and artists with the Invicta Law Group.
He is also an indie film screenwriter, game inventor, and attorney. Steve wrote and directed the upcoming The Periphery Project Volume I (2012) and The Periphery Project Volume II (2013). Previously, he wrote and co-produced Crimes of the Past (2009) (premiered on Lifetime, distributed by MarVista Entertainment), co-wrote the multiple-award-winning feature Farewell to Harry, and wrote and co-produced the feature A Relative Thing (2005). He also wrote and directed the award-winning short films The Day My Parents Became Cool. He teaches a masters degree course in film producing at the Seattle Film Institute.
Steve was also the co-founder of Front Porch Classics, where he created the FamilyFun Magazine Toy of the Year, Old Century Dread Pirate, among other games.
Steve focuses his law practice on helping creative companies and artists with the Invicta Law Group.
Randall Broad
In March 2008, my eyes were opened to a new perspective and life took on a whole new meaning. In that month, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Lung Cancer. Once the reality of this news settled in, my first emotion was to cry. Then I woke up from my first reaction of fear to begin an entirely new and uncharted journey. More
Michelle Millman
My story began last summer, when I was undressing and saw a lump on my right breast.
As I was about to find out, my life would never be the same.
Within two weeks I was diagnosed with Stage 2A invasive lobular carcinoma. By August I’d had a lumpectomy and during this surgery another cancerous tumor was found in my right breast. A mastectomy was recommended. I decided to have a double mastectomy so I wouldn’t have to worry about the left breast developing breast cancer. That was the hardest decision I’d ever had to make.
This was all so overwhelming but I took each day as it came and each test and screening as they came. I put one foot in front of the other but at times it felt like I was in a fog, like I was watching a movie starring someone else, not me.
What helped me tremendously was talking other women who’d been down this road before. They eased my mind, listened and quite simply, made me feel better. Despite what I was going through, these cancer champions made me laugh. I soon found out laughter is some good medicine!
I need 20 weeks of chemotherapy and 7 weeks of radiation. At this writing, I have 5 more chemo sessions to go then after a few weeks off I’ll start radiation.
Through all of this I have been blogging about my experience. When was first diagnosed I felt an overwhelming desire to share what I was learning. I have been a television journalist for 20 years but writing
about this experience has been my toughest assignment yet. KIRO-TV’s web staff created a beautiful page for me and there I’m able to blog, share pictures and video and get messages from others.
Often the people who email me are survivors – champions – and they inspire me with their stories. I also hear from people who’ve watched loved ones die from cancer. These are important stories to hear. It is for all of us -- the champions and those who’ve watched loved ones die – that we need to find a cure. We need to end the pain, the suffering, the death. It can be done, a cure is within our reach.
As I was about to find out, my life would never be the same.
Within two weeks I was diagnosed with Stage 2A invasive lobular carcinoma. By August I’d had a lumpectomy and during this surgery another cancerous tumor was found in my right breast. A mastectomy was recommended. I decided to have a double mastectomy so I wouldn’t have to worry about the left breast developing breast cancer. That was the hardest decision I’d ever had to make.
This was all so overwhelming but I took each day as it came and each test and screening as they came. I put one foot in front of the other but at times it felt like I was in a fog, like I was watching a movie starring someone else, not me.
What helped me tremendously was talking other women who’d been down this road before. They eased my mind, listened and quite simply, made me feel better. Despite what I was going through, these cancer champions made me laugh. I soon found out laughter is some good medicine!
I need 20 weeks of chemotherapy and 7 weeks of radiation. At this writing, I have 5 more chemo sessions to go then after a few weeks off I’ll start radiation.
Through all of this I have been blogging about my experience. When was first diagnosed I felt an overwhelming desire to share what I was learning. I have been a television journalist for 20 years but writing
about this experience has been my toughest assignment yet. KIRO-TV’s web staff created a beautiful page for me and there I’m able to blog, share pictures and video and get messages from others.
Often the people who email me are survivors – champions – and they inspire me with their stories. I also hear from people who’ve watched loved ones die from cancer. These are important stories to hear. It is for all of us -- the champions and those who’ve watched loved ones die – that we need to find a cure. We need to end the pain, the suffering, the death. It can be done, a cure is within our reach.
Mark Day
On anyone's calendar, he has always been a Day to remember, a Day to celebrate.
In 1967, Mark Day was part of a Renton High School football team that was as powerful and unbeatable as any put together in or around Seattle. He supplied the speed, settling under long touchdown heaves sent his way by an NFL-bound quarterback. He shared in the surplus of Division I scholarships showered on this group.
Forty-two years later, Day is a detective sergeant for the Renton Police Department. He pulls a 6 a.m.-to-4 p.m. shift four times weekly. He supervises crime scenes, collects evidence and pulls criminal records.
What has happened to this man besides catching passes and catching suspects is why there should be a holiday named for him.
Day, 59, has survived massive kidney failure and multiple myeloma cancer against great odds, each time requiring bone-marrow transplants to kick-start his health. Eight- een months ago, his kidneys were shut down by a virulent strain of salmonella poisoning. He doesn't know how or where he contracted it, only that it was extra-venomous.
"I died twice, and they brought me back," Day said. "One time, I was in a coma for a week. I woke up, and I was blinded by it. I was bleeding from the brain. My wife said I went into a seizure. The doctor thought I had died. He said, 'He's gone.' "
Ten years earlier, he learned a cancer had spread to his spine and with it came a 6-percent survival rate.
A bone-marrow transplant has been the solution for all of Day's life-threatening moments. As he explains it, this is no more intricate than having someone use a Black & Decker saw to drill into his backbone, blow compressed air to build up the bone and then Super-Glue everything back together.
"I am coming back," he said. "I'm on kidney dialysis and getting off it, free and clear."
Say this about Day, his life has never been mundane or boring.
As a Renton High senior, he played for a 10-0 football team that was considered the state's finest and received national attention. The Indians had just one close game that season, a 27-20 victory over Puyallup in the opener. They beat everyone else by 21 to 46 points.
Day scored 11 times, repeatedly slipping behind the opposing secondary to haul in a bulletlike pass from quarterback Bill Donckers, who would later play for San Diego State and the NFL's St. Louis Cardinals.
"It was like 'Friday Night Lights' when I played," Day said. "We had big crowds. It was a very blue-collar town, and it followed its football team."
While Donckers went elsewhere to college, Renton offensive tackle Tom Nelson and Day, nicknamed "Mr. Meat and Mr. Fleet," accepted Washington scholarships and were joined there a year later by Indians defensive tackle and the recently deceased Gordy Guinn.
In 1967, Mark Day was part of a Renton High School football team that was as powerful and unbeatable as any put together in or around Seattle. He supplied the speed, settling under long touchdown heaves sent his way by an NFL-bound quarterback. He shared in the surplus of Division I scholarships showered on this group.
Forty-two years later, Day is a detective sergeant for the Renton Police Department. He pulls a 6 a.m.-to-4 p.m. shift four times weekly. He supervises crime scenes, collects evidence and pulls criminal records.
What has happened to this man besides catching passes and catching suspects is why there should be a holiday named for him.
Day, 59, has survived massive kidney failure and multiple myeloma cancer against great odds, each time requiring bone-marrow transplants to kick-start his health. Eight- een months ago, his kidneys were shut down by a virulent strain of salmonella poisoning. He doesn't know how or where he contracted it, only that it was extra-venomous.
"I died twice, and they brought me back," Day said. "One time, I was in a coma for a week. I woke up, and I was blinded by it. I was bleeding from the brain. My wife said I went into a seizure. The doctor thought I had died. He said, 'He's gone.' "
Ten years earlier, he learned a cancer had spread to his spine and with it came a 6-percent survival rate.
A bone-marrow transplant has been the solution for all of Day's life-threatening moments. As he explains it, this is no more intricate than having someone use a Black & Decker saw to drill into his backbone, blow compressed air to build up the bone and then Super-Glue everything back together.
"I am coming back," he said. "I'm on kidney dialysis and getting off it, free and clear."
Say this about Day, his life has never been mundane or boring.
As a Renton High senior, he played for a 10-0 football team that was considered the state's finest and received national attention. The Indians had just one close game that season, a 27-20 victory over Puyallup in the opener. They beat everyone else by 21 to 46 points.
Day scored 11 times, repeatedly slipping behind the opposing secondary to haul in a bulletlike pass from quarterback Bill Donckers, who would later play for San Diego State and the NFL's St. Louis Cardinals.
"It was like 'Friday Night Lights' when I played," Day said. "We had big crowds. It was a very blue-collar town, and it followed its football team."
While Donckers went elsewhere to college, Renton offensive tackle Tom Nelson and Day, nicknamed "Mr. Meat and Mr. Fleet," accepted Washington scholarships and were joined there a year later by Indians defensive tackle and the recently deceased Gordy Guinn.
Julie Becker
Julie Becker knew how to light up a room. She lived a life filled with laughter, love and a soulful wisdom that touched each person she met. Her vitality and enthusiasm were contagious and inspiring.
Jules LOVED to dance. She danced her whole life, beginning lessons at the age of 3. She attended the Washington School of Ballet in DC for her first 2 years of high school and performed in the Nutcracker at Kennedy Center as a candy cane during that time. When Jules danced she felt love, peace and clarity. Her soul was free.
Jules was passionate about her children, dancing, decorating, gardening, natural health, personal growth, and experiencing each moment with all of her senses.
Jules knew she had cancer 2 months before she was diagnosed with bile-duct liver cancer. After feeling a hard ness beneath her right rib Jules went to the doctor. She was told it was a pulled muscle. Julie never believed it. She would lift her shirt for anyone, anywhere, and say “feel this”. A month later she went back to the doctor and an ultrasound revealed an enormous tumor encased in her liver. She had 75% of her liver removed in January 2006 and recovered beautifully. She was back dancing with her Adult Jazz class (No Limits – featured dancers for DFAC) by fall.
In September 2006 Jules was given a clean bill of health. But over the holidays in Hawaii she began to feel nauseous and flew home early. On January 3rd, 2007 Jules was told she had 2 to 6 months to live. The cancer had returned with a vengeance in her intestinal wall. She thanked the doctor for all he had done and went home to make plans for how she would live her last days. Jules and her friends planned a Living Memorial where she was able to touch and be touched by hundreds of people who came to say goodbye. She then cuddled up with her dog Rocky, her husband Michael and three children, Ali 11, Joe 9 and Frankie 6 and bravely faced her final journey.
Julie passed away peacefully at her home in Redmond on April 13, 2007 at the age of 44. It was 100 days from the day she was diagnosed terminal. She is missed every day by those who loved her.
In her own words from her living memorial, Jules shared this message about life:
“We are not here just to survive and live long. We are here to live life in all its dimensions. To experience life in its true richness, exploring all available possibilities, never holding back from life’s challenges, pushing forward in curiosity. Only then does life fully bloom. My life has bloomed, and for that I thank you.”
Jules LOVED to dance. She danced her whole life, beginning lessons at the age of 3. She attended the Washington School of Ballet in DC for her first 2 years of high school and performed in the Nutcracker at Kennedy Center as a candy cane during that time. When Jules danced she felt love, peace and clarity. Her soul was free.
Jules was passionate about her children, dancing, decorating, gardening, natural health, personal growth, and experiencing each moment with all of her senses.
Jules knew she had cancer 2 months before she was diagnosed with bile-duct liver cancer. After feeling a hard ness beneath her right rib Jules went to the doctor. She was told it was a pulled muscle. Julie never believed it. She would lift her shirt for anyone, anywhere, and say “feel this”. A month later she went back to the doctor and an ultrasound revealed an enormous tumor encased in her liver. She had 75% of her liver removed in January 2006 and recovered beautifully. She was back dancing with her Adult Jazz class (No Limits – featured dancers for DFAC) by fall.
In September 2006 Jules was given a clean bill of health. But over the holidays in Hawaii she began to feel nauseous and flew home early. On January 3rd, 2007 Jules was told she had 2 to 6 months to live. The cancer had returned with a vengeance in her intestinal wall. She thanked the doctor for all he had done and went home to make plans for how she would live her last days. Jules and her friends planned a Living Memorial where she was able to touch and be touched by hundreds of people who came to say goodbye. She then cuddled up with her dog Rocky, her husband Michael and three children, Ali 11, Joe 9 and Frankie 6 and bravely faced her final journey.
Julie passed away peacefully at her home in Redmond on April 13, 2007 at the age of 44. It was 100 days from the day she was diagnosed terminal. She is missed every day by those who loved her.
In her own words from her living memorial, Jules shared this message about life:
“We are not here just to survive and live long. We are here to live life in all its dimensions. To experience life in its true richness, exploring all available possibilities, never holding back from life’s challenges, pushing forward in curiosity. Only then does life fully bloom. My life has bloomed, and for that I thank you.”
Clara Viviana 1974 - 2009
Viviana Ulloa was born in Bogota Colombia on November 13, 1974 . Grew up in Panama and at the age of 15 moved to the United States. She graduated from Laguna Hills High School in 1992, attended Saddle Valley Community College where she discovered her passion for psychology and anthropology. In order to keep her family together Viviana moved to Madison, Wisconsin where she attended the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
During her undergraduate career Viviana was an active member of the community .She volunteered for the Domestic Abuse Intervention Services, and she was also a cofounder of CEPLA an organization committed to help Latino students succeed in high school. Viviana graduated in 1998 with a double major in anthropology and psychology and a women’s studies certificate. After graduation Viviana work at Centro Hispano, a nonprofit organization in Madison. Then she went on to obtain her Masters Degree in counseling psychology. Upon receiving her masters, she was a family advocate for Head Start and at the same time found out she was pregnant. After the birth of her child, she went back to work as a child therapist for the Mental Health Center of Dane County.
As a single mom Viviana moved with her mother and daughter to Kirkland in the winter of 2004 in order to live closer to her brothers and nieces. Upon arriving in the Seattle area Viviana started working for Consejo, a non profit counseling and referral service for the Latino community. She is currently employed by the city of Seattle as a contract and grants monitor for Seattle team for youth, a program designed to help youths achieve in school.
During the summer of 2007 Viviana began having symptoms of anemia, so she went in for an ultrasound of her uterus, and was diagnosed with endometriosis. The Doctor recommended a full hysterectomy, during surgery they discovered she had stage IV stomach cancer that had metastasized to her, intestine,ovaries,cervix, spleen, and lymph nodes. They removed her reproductive system and another surgery was to come.
The oncologist was not hopeful, but if there was a chance it would be with Dr. Gary Mann at UW and Cancer Care Alliance. His procedure is experimental and is only performed in a few places in
the US. The 17 hour surgery involved the removing of Viviana’s stomach and affected areas, and the reconstruction of her digestive system. For the second half of the surgery Dr. Mann lowered Viviana’s body temperature in order to pump hot chemotherapy drugs into her abdominal cavity for 2 hours. They sutured her up as the chemo was flowing over her organs and proceeded to shake Viviana for the next two hours. This is known as Shake and Bake according to Viviana and her family. At the end of the surgery they took out the chemo pump and stitched her up and sent her off to a long and painful recovery.
At the end of the Summer Viviana had barely recovered from the surgery when she started on a new and aggressive form of Chemotherapy, one of the only ones to have an effect on Stomach Cancer. The chemo consisted of a 24 hour, 7 days a week infusion of 5FU, and on every third week she would get an all day infusion of two other types of chemo. Viviana had to endure the chemotherapy for 6 months. Her day of freedom was February 11, 2008. She lived those next few months with vigor and life, traveling to Cancun, Mexico, Orange County , CA, Managua, Nicaragua and Disney World! It was almost like she knew that she had to spend these moments with her loved ones because her cancer was aggressive and coming back. In the fall of 2008 she developed multiple tumors in her rectum and intestine, she underwent radiation for a few weeks on the tumor in her rectum, which was a very painful process. Event ually she went to see an oncologist at Fred Hutchinson, who told her that the cancer had spread to her lungs and there was no longer anything that they could do for her. This was a tragic moment in the lives of her family as we had to come to grips with the fact that we were going to lose our sweet Viviana. Dr. Whiting told us that she only had 6 weeks to live, and that she needed to enter hospice care.
Hospice care was a godsend and a curse. We couldn’t wait for the hospice nurse to come to the house and tell us all of Viviana’s vitals and whatnot, but then, we would have a conversation out of earshot as to how much longer she thought Viviana had to live. This was the hardest thing to hear and go through as a family, putting a time frame on somebody’s life. Eventually Viviana succumbed to the disease and died on March 15, 2009, almost 6 weeks to the day after entering hospice care. Viviana left behind a 7 year old daughter, 2 brothers, 2 sister in laws, countless extended family members, best friends and 2 very devastated parents.
During her undergraduate career Viviana was an active member of the community .She volunteered for the Domestic Abuse Intervention Services, and she was also a cofounder of CEPLA an organization committed to help Latino students succeed in high school. Viviana graduated in 1998 with a double major in anthropology and psychology and a women’s studies certificate. After graduation Viviana work at Centro Hispano, a nonprofit organization in Madison. Then she went on to obtain her Masters Degree in counseling psychology. Upon receiving her masters, she was a family advocate for Head Start and at the same time found out she was pregnant. After the birth of her child, she went back to work as a child therapist for the Mental Health Center of Dane County.
As a single mom Viviana moved with her mother and daughter to Kirkland in the winter of 2004 in order to live closer to her brothers and nieces. Upon arriving in the Seattle area Viviana started working for Consejo, a non profit counseling and referral service for the Latino community. She is currently employed by the city of Seattle as a contract and grants monitor for Seattle team for youth, a program designed to help youths achieve in school.
During the summer of 2007 Viviana began having symptoms of anemia, so she went in for an ultrasound of her uterus, and was diagnosed with endometriosis. The Doctor recommended a full hysterectomy, during surgery they discovered she had stage IV stomach cancer that had metastasized to her, intestine,ovaries,cervix, spleen, and lymph nodes. They removed her reproductive system and another surgery was to come.
The oncologist was not hopeful, but if there was a chance it would be with Dr. Gary Mann at UW and Cancer Care Alliance. His procedure is experimental and is only performed in a few places in
the US. The 17 hour surgery involved the removing of Viviana’s stomach and affected areas, and the reconstruction of her digestive system. For the second half of the surgery Dr. Mann lowered Viviana’s body temperature in order to pump hot chemotherapy drugs into her abdominal cavity for 2 hours. They sutured her up as the chemo was flowing over her organs and proceeded to shake Viviana for the next two hours. This is known as Shake and Bake according to Viviana and her family. At the end of the surgery they took out the chemo pump and stitched her up and sent her off to a long and painful recovery.
At the end of the Summer Viviana had barely recovered from the surgery when she started on a new and aggressive form of Chemotherapy, one of the only ones to have an effect on Stomach Cancer. The chemo consisted of a 24 hour, 7 days a week infusion of 5FU, and on every third week she would get an all day infusion of two other types of chemo. Viviana had to endure the chemotherapy for 6 months. Her day of freedom was February 11, 2008. She lived those next few months with vigor and life, traveling to Cancun, Mexico, Orange County , CA, Managua, Nicaragua and Disney World! It was almost like she knew that she had to spend these moments with her loved ones because her cancer was aggressive and coming back. In the fall of 2008 she developed multiple tumors in her rectum and intestine, she underwent radiation for a few weeks on the tumor in her rectum, which was a very painful process. Event ually she went to see an oncologist at Fred Hutchinson, who told her that the cancer had spread to her lungs and there was no longer anything that they could do for her. This was a tragic moment in the lives of her family as we had to come to grips with the fact that we were going to lose our sweet Viviana. Dr. Whiting told us that she only had 6 weeks to live, and that she needed to enter hospice care.
Hospice care was a godsend and a curse. We couldn’t wait for the hospice nurse to come to the house and tell us all of Viviana’s vitals and whatnot, but then, we would have a conversation out of earshot as to how much longer she thought Viviana had to live. This was the hardest thing to hear and go through as a family, putting a time frame on somebody’s life. Eventually Viviana succumbed to the disease and died on March 15, 2009, almost 6 weeks to the day after entering hospice care. Viviana left behind a 7 year old daughter, 2 brothers, 2 sister in laws, countless extended family members, best friends and 2 very devastated parents.
Gary Yost
A week before his tenth birthday, Gary complained of shoulder pain after soccer practice in June 2007. Gary is not a complainer, so we found this somewhat unsettling. We took him to the pediatrician expecting to hear news of a pulled muscle. Following an X-ray to rule out a cracked rib, the doctor told us that Gary had a mass in his chest cavity and he wanted us to head up to Seattle Children’s immediately. We got in the car and headed north from his office. It was 6:30pm on June 25th of last year. The tests, scans and blood draws began. A mere 18 hours after our pediatrician appointment for what was supposed to be a pulled muscle, we were told that Gary had cancer – Ewing’s Sarcoma, a rare form bone cancer. The scans showed a tumor in Gary’s chest cavity the size of a softball. It was wrapped around at least three of his ribs and was pressing on his lung. Only twenty-four hours after leaving the pediatrician’s office, Gary was admitted to the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance Unit at Children’s where his bone-marrow was aspirated for testing and a central line was placed in his chest. The news of Gary’s cancer-free bone marrow was the first good news we’d received. Fourteen rounds of intense chemo therapy followed each of which required a 3 or 5 day admission to the hospital and several blood transfusions. In October of 2007, about half way through his chemotherapy treatments, Gary had surgery to remove the tumor. He had three ribs removed and a titanium rib, some wires and Gortex put in their place. Although the surgery was terrifying and overwhelming, we were very happy to hear that Gary would not need radiation therapy because the removed tumor contained only dead cancer cells. Thankfully Gary’s chemotherapy ended on March 1st, 2008 – the four of us celebrated with sparkling cider and a good hard cry. His end of treatment scans showed no signs of cancer. His three, six, nine month scans showed no signs of cancer. His one year scans showed no signs of cancer. Life is getting back to ‘normal’.
