personal story

By. Nicole Bodner, Weekend Post

 

It’s hard to describe what it feels like when you’re told you have cancer and probably won’t make it. I’ve heard some people with cancer say they were flooded with feelings of disbelief and fear. But for me it felt more like I’d been ejected from an airplane, one that was carrying everyone I knew, including my nine-day-old baby. At the time, being diagnosed with bone cancer of the maxilla (think Terry Fox with cancer of the face instead of leg) seemed like the worst thing that could ever have happened to me or my family. It meant I’d need extensive surgery on my face and chemotherapy (if I survived surgery, that is). It meant I’d have to spend lots of time in the hospital instead of in the yard with my baby and other children (I have four altogether, including two step-daughters). I’d lose my ability to breastfeed. I’d lose my hair. And I’d have to walk around with a question mark over my head for the rest of my life. Is today “my time?” Tomorrow? Next month? Next year? Read more »

In 1998, Tim Dagiau's mother, Kathy, received an emergency phone call from his elementary school.

During what she called a surreal conversation, the school staff said her son had suffered a massive seizure so severe emergency personnel had reported no pulse and were forced to use a defibrillator to revive the 9-year-old.

Tim, the family learned, was an epileptic.

"I was shocked and remember thinking they've called the wrong person," she said. "He is my only child so I can't even convey what that felt like."

Kathy and her husband, Gary, a lifetime Clifton resident, are both employees of pharmaceutical companies. The couple utilized every source they collected during their years in the industry to employ the best neurologist they could find.

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