Tiffany Moyes

Hodgkin's Lymphoma
Whatcom County Fire District #7

Tiffany Moyes is a hands-on kind of girl. She’s never been satisfied with the idea of sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day, typing her life away in the corporate world. Instead, she chose to follow in her father’s, grandfather’s, and great-grandfather’s footsteps, and opted to make a career out of fighting fires instead.

It’s obvious that her love for this profession and everything that comes with it has become a crucial part of who she is. When she was 16, she joined her local fire cadet program, and an instantaneous passion was born.

As a female in the fire service, she says that it has been hard work without a doubt. She’s had to prove herself capable and earn the trust of others, but now that she has it, she’s just one of the guys.

“I’ve always wanted a big brother growing up,” Tiffany said, “And now I have too many to count.”

This feeling of acceptance and family she’s discovered at Whatcom Fire is mutual. Long time firefighter David Forbes, Tiffany’s C-Shift Lieutenant, says that despite the fact Tiffany was born 10 days after he was hired on at the fire station, she’s as tough as any man he’s worked with.

“I can’t begin to tell you how proud of her we are,” David said.

Not only is she now a resident firefighter with Whatcom County Fire, but she is also about to earn her AA from Whatcom Community College in the Spring. It’s hard to imagine that her busy lifestyle could accommodate much else, but on May 11, 2016, Tiffany was diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the age of 19. It was Tiffany’s mother who first broke the news.

Earlier that Fall, Tiffany had finally made the move out of her parent’s house into living full time at the fire station. It was there that she experienced a newfound sense of community, adulthood, and freedom, all of which felt like the universe was suddenly about to revoke. While she didn’t have to entirely move out of the firehouse she had come to love so dearly, Tiffany did have to spend a significant amount of time receiving and recovering from treatments away from the station.

“I didn’t cry when I got the cancer diagnosis, but I did cry when I had to go back home,” she said.

Tiffany soon began chemotherapy, which was administered through a port placed in her chest. Every other week she sat through sessions lasting about 4-5 hours each, always wishing she could instead be back doing what she loved. Admittedly, it was rough suddenly having restrictions on what she was able to do. Time with extended family and friends became limited, as everything was dependent upon her treatment schedule and daily blood cell count.

But after 6 months of body scans, blood draws, chemicals pumping straight into her heart, and shaving her head rather than watch clumps of hair fall out over time, Tiffany received her final chemo treatment this past November.

Throughout this experience, Tiffany remains a humble person. She makes a point to emphasize how those in her life profoundly and positively affected her, rather than adopting a woe-is-me attitude. She speaks enthusiastically of the incredible outpouring of kindness from friends, family, and even people who she hadn’t spoken to in years. Whether it was a homemade meal brought to her house after another round of chemo or a random text asking how she was doing that day, the way people stepped up and put themselves out there to show support did not go unappreciated.

But what stuck out most of all was how her fellow Whatcom firefighters never once changed the way they treated her.

“In their eyes I was just a person rather than someone with cancer,” Tiffany said. “That was my biggest thing during treatment, that I was still Tiffany you know? I’m still me and I don’t want to be identified by my cancer.”

Gareth Moore, another member of Whatcom Fire, finds her undamaged spirit absolutely inspirational. During a shift when they both got called to put out a barn fire, and as Gareth watched Tiffany work relentlessly to do her part, it became clear to him that she is an unstoppable individual. As they worked through the night it dawned on him that every time he asked her how she was doing and she told him, “I’m ok,” she truly meant it. She wasn’t going to let her circumstances define her, and was never going to give up.

“She had such conviction and such drive that I didn’t doubt for a second that she would be ok,” Gareth said.

Her diagnosis has reinforced the notion that the little things in life are meant to be cherished. She fondly details how at the firehouse there are three separate shifts that rotate out every month. What she loves the most about her permanent residency there is how she gets to spend time with everyone across these shifts and get to know their little quirks. From the guys who constantly complain about how there’s nothing to watch on TV late at night, to those who religiously watch Ghost Hunters (which terrifies her) during the last shift, it’s these little details she says she will now always remember to savor and is sure some day she will miss.

“When you’re slowly losing your identity to cancer it's those little things that are what you’re going to hold onto the tightest to try and keep some of who you are,” she said.

Tiffany’s positive spirit is infectious, her drive for both work and life is admirable, and in layman’s terms, she’s simply a rockstar. She doesn't let this diagnosis define who she is, but rather, uses it as an opportunity to gain new perspective on what it means to really live.

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Kevin Wise

Multiple Myeloma
Stanislaus Consolidated Fire Protection District

In the world of cancer diagnoses, it has become the norm to expect the unexpected. Kevin Wise, captain of the Stanislaus Consolidated Fire Protection District team, is all too familiar with this concept.

“In 2011, I was young, I was tough, I was in really, really good shape,” Kevin said. “I thought I was invincible, and then I quickly found out I was not.”

During a swift water training session, Kevin injured his shoulder, chest and back. Despite his overall strong health, after a few months his chest still would not heal. What he thought would be a minor visit to the doctor turned into a conversation that would change his life. Kevin was 39 years old that day when he was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. Over the next five years his life shifted into a consistent pattern of blood transfusions (too many to count), endless pills, chemotherapy, and transplants.

For him, being diagnosed with cancer was practically unbelievable. But despite this unexpected setback, Kevin didn’t let his new physical vulnerability majorly disrupt his normal life. In fact, he hardly missed work - a testament to his tenacious, and self-described stubborn spirit.

His longtime, childhood friend, Darren Layne, has witnessed this firsthand many times. To put it bluntly, “Kevin is not the type of person to just lay down in bed and die,” Darren said.

Kevin’s initial round of chemo lasted about a year until he became eligible to receive a bone marrow transplant. This procedure was unique, in that he actually became his own donor. Doctors administered an extremely high dosage of chemo, then harvested newly regenerated “clean” stem cells that were then fed back into his body. Over the course of three months, multiple harvests were needed, until Kevin made it to as close to remission as possible. He compares the current status of his cancer to a chronic disease such as diabetes - manageable, laying low, but not necessarily cured.

After enduring these procedures, Kevin was able to return to work at the station three months earlier than anticipated. But as is the unfair nature of life, not all good things can last. It was just a few years later when Kevin fell ill again for an extended period of time. After returning to the doctor for more tests, it was revealed he has a second type of blood cancer raging through his veins - leukemia. He was admitted to the emergency room that night, was immediately put back on chemo, and spent the next 47 days hospitalized.

Treatment this time around was different. It was determined that Kevin needed another bone marrow transplant, but it had to come from a perfectly matched donor other than himself. Often times it can take up to a year to find an acceptable donor, making the odds according to Kevin, “astronomically difficult.”

But thanks to the Be a Match program which finds donors for patients in need, Kevin’s luck had not yet run out. Kevin and his firefighter colleagues ended up running two bone marrow drives through this organization, and while he did not find his own donor through these events, their efforts successfully signed up over 200 people sign for the bone marrow registry. He’s proud to say that even a few of the firefighters from his station were placed as matches for other blood cancer patients. He’s content knowing his own disease has in turn helped pay it forward for others, and he couldn’t ask for a better outcome.

Luckily, Kevin was indeed able to find a match for his own marrow, and the transplant was performed in January 2016 at Stanford. Post transplant, and in true Kevin-fashion, he returned to work after only six months off.

While he was able to work throughout most of his treatments, it is undeniable that there were difficulties. For Kevin, some days his side effects were worse than others and the fear of his body rejecting a transplant is sometimes strongly at the forefront of his mind.

“I credit being able to get through this to my support system and the attitude I kept,” Kevin said. “I’m extremely lucky in that I have my family, a supportive wife, friends, and my fire family as well who have all just been unbelievably incredible.”

As a father of two, family is exceptionally important. At first Kevin was worried he wouldn’t be able to see his daughter graduate high school, or see his younger son even make it into high school at all. But when cancer happens, life has a tendency to simplify. Eventually these worries turned into simply hoping he’d be able to be with them for Christmas that year. As his perspective on the timeline of life shifted, it was the simple things that began to stand out the most. After not being able to eat out for six months, suddenly something as normal as sitting in a restaurant for a single meal became a newfound luxury.

This mindset carried over into his work as well. As a firefighter, he says he discovered a deeper empathy towards the patients he works with on a regular basis. He became a firefighter simply because he genuinely wants to do good in the world and make sure he’s an active participant in helping those who need it most.

“I’ve always cared, but now it’s on a different level of appreciation,” Kevin said. “You just can’t put a value on the feeling of helping others, and there isn't any other feeling like it. Being able to help people on their darkest days makes mine a little better.”

His giving spirit does not go unnoticed. In fact, for the 2016 Firefighter Stairclimb, Darren who is on the Boise Firefighters Local 149 team, wanted Kevin to be his honoree. Just a week before the event, Darren blew out his ACL and wasn’t able to participate. So rather than climbing in Kevin’s honor in 2016, it was decided they would instead climb together for Kevin’s first Stairclimb in 2017.

Of course when you’re a two-time cancer patient, climbing 69 flights of stairs in 50+ pounds of gear can be a slight health concern. Especially when Kevin was already scheduled to have a series of procedures to “bleed him out” in order to balance his iron levels that had become saturated from transfusions. So Kevin called his doctor and with fingers crossed, explained the idea. Turns out, his doctor was fully on board and readily proceeded to rearrange his entire schedule of procedures so they could start a week after this year’s Stairclimb. In fact, his doctor even told him, “You’ll be like Lance Armstrong going up that building.”

Darren shares this sentiment, saying “I want him to destroy me in the Stairclimb, and have no doubt that he will.”

Aside from describing Kevin as being a physical powerhouse, Darren emphasizes that over the course of two cancer diagnoses, he never heard Kevin complain a single time. He is a true leader, paving the way by example, not intimidation, and always gives 110% in whatever he puts his mind to. Whether it was racing in motocross competitions as a teenager, or quickly moving up the ranks of his firehouse, Kevin is made to work hard, always push the envelope, and excel at whatever he puts his mind to.

It’s apparent that Kevin could not be more excited to raise funds to help find a cure for those who may not have been as lucky as himself. Going from spending months in the hospital, to captaining his own Stairclimb team, he’s keeping a positive outlook on what’s to come.

“Now when I wake up in the morning I’m just really appreciative,” Kevin said. “When I open my eyes it’s just like, alright, I’m here, I’m happy, let’s do this.”

And it’s as simple as that.

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Tim Vanleeuwen

Multiple Myeloma
Kingsley Field Fire Department

While mountain biking in Utah back in September 2016, Tim Vanleeuwen ended up crashing his bike and having to make a trip to the hospital for 10 stitches. After he was sent back to work at the Kingsley Field Fire Department in Oregon, he was soon experiencing double vision that he thought was related to the crash.

Upon returning to the ER to determine the cause, doctors told Tim he had a brain tumor and would need surgery to remove it. It wasn’t until after he endured this procedure and more tests were ran in October that it was shockingly revealed he actually had blood cancer. Multiple myeloma to be exact, and was started on radiation this past December.

He admits it took a couple months for him to digest what was happening. At first, he didn’t even believe the doctor when he found out his diagnosis. But this disbelief eventually turned into a sense of determination to always have a set plan in place for a worst case scenario.

As a father of two 17-year-old twin boys and a 22-year-old daughter, Tim is a family man who has now truly learned the importance of preparing for the worst, but also hoping for the best.

Suddenly minute details like making sure his wife had the code to the safe in their home in case he wouldn’t be around any longer became paramount. His biggest piece of advice? If you’re healthy now, make sure to have your affairs in order so you don’t leave your family hanging.

His department has even taken initiative to put together an informational packet to make sure these types of details are compiled in one place in case there is a death in the line of duty. For Tim and his fellow firefighters, first and foremost it’s about ensuring that everyone is taken care of.

But this goes both ways, and he admits that as someone who is accustomed to being the one to provide assistance to others, it can be strange and uncomfortable to now be the one getting help from other people. In order to keep on top of his treatment sessions including procedures like a bone marrow transplant, Tim often has to commute to the Oregon Health and Science University, meaning he’s had to cut his work schedule down to only one rotation at the firehouse. For a man who has wanted to be a firefighter since he was a little boy, this has undoubtedly been a tough transition.

“It’s been pretty awful not being able to fully do my job as a firefighter,” Tim said.

While growing up, he used to play firefighter with his cousin, started volunteering for real in 1996, got hired full-time eight years ago, and has now spent the past 20 in the fire service fully dedicated to his work. For him, being a firefighter means finding a balance between the undeniable adrenaline of being a first responder, but also the giving nature of this line of work.

His generous and empathetic spirit doesn’t stop at fighting fires and saving lives. Tim and his wife have jointly coached a Special Olympics softball team for the past six years. He works as a coach on a few nights a week for 10 weeks at time, and then takes his team to compete at regional and state levels. After years of watching his softball stars grow, what he loves most is the unspoiled camaraderie the players exude. He says there’s never any animosity between players. Instead, it's all about helping each other up when they fall down, and lots and lots of high-fiving.

While he appreciates the lack of competition from his softball team participants, he can’t deny that competition is what he loves about the Firefighter Stairclimb. He first joined the event in 2016, because after seeing other men in his department participate, he figured he needed to get in on the climbing before he got too old. He’s excited to return in 2017 to join in on the atmosphere of brotherhood and bonding, which he calls a phenomenal experience. In fact, he’s proud to say that last year he beat out a 21-year-old firefighter in his probationary period from his department by nine seconds. Looks like Tim isn’t so old after all.

While his future isn’t entirely certain, and there may be a possibility of a stem cell transplant to come, for now Tim is ready to fundraise, to climb, and to be the firefighter that he’s always been meant to be.

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Brian Ferrier

Chronic Myeloid Leukemia
Central Pierce Fire & Rescue

Just over three and a half years ago, Brian Ferrier of Central Pierce Fire & Rescue noticed something strange was happening to him. Every time he tried to go for a run he wasn’t able to make it more than half a mile without becoming extremely fatigued. After going to the doctor for a blood draw, it was discovered that his blood platelet count was in the 500,000 range, meaning it was extremely high. In a shocking twist, doctors soon diagnosed Brian with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia.

In order to begin his full regimen of medication, his white blood cell count first needed to be brought down to a more manageable level. While his doctor was hopeful this would take just a couple months, it ended up taking over two and half years to get his levels back to where doctors wanted them to be.

While he’s officially (and thankfully) considered in remission, Brian is told he will still have to take medications for the rest of his life. It’s the daily chemo pills that hold his disease in check.

Although remission can seem like a breeze, Brian still experiences harsh side effects from the chemo. He often has extreme nausea, bone pain, and estimates he now only has about ⅓ of his normal energy levels. These daily symptoms are typically the most intense for the first three hours after he takes his morning medication, but despite this inconvenience, he doesn’t let this stop him from going about his days like normal.

He knows that as a leader in the fire service it’s important to instill this type of attitude in all new departmental hires and has done just that over the past 19 years. He’s become a pro at taking a negative situation and flipping it on its head.

“Everyone gets dealt with some bad things in life and obviously as a firefighter and paramedic I see this type of stuff every day,” Brian said. “I took cancer not as a detriment to my life, but instead as a positive that I could learn from and pass these lessons on.”

Brian is optimistic, and strives to be a positive example for other cancer patients. For those going through a similar experience, he wants them to know that researchers are constantly coming out with new treatments and cures, and it is so deeply important to simply never give up.

Doctors aren’t exactly sure why Brian got CML, but he strongly suspects his cancer got its start about 20 years ago during the beginning of his firefighter career. When going into burning buildings Brian and his fellow firefighters didn’t always take the safest respiratory precautions that are nowadays much more regularly enforced.

He notes that his captain and department are huge advocates for those in the fire service to always use proper BPE and make sure everyone is appropriately masked up and thorough about cleaning their bunker gear after risky exposures.

He’s extremely grateful that his job has allowed him ample opportunity to raise his kids ― an eight-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter. Since his wife works as a delivery nurse, they both have careers that revolve around working in shifts. This means he’s been able to spend just as much time raising his children as his wife has, and still strives to spend as much time with them as possible.

It’s pretty obvious that for Brian, family is always first. He’s never spent much time dwelling on trying to figure out why cancer had to happen to him, or what could have been done differently. It’s always just been about living for his family while stamping out the woe-is-me attitude.

For a guy who has cancer, his inclination towards the silver lining is truly humbling. He states, “It’s been a long battle but I have no complaints. I’m here and pretty healthy.”

It’s easy to hear the joy in his voice when he talks about watching his children grow up and excel at the things they love. Whether he’s cheering them on in skiing, swimming, basketball and more, for him being a busy parent is truly a labor of love.

“Just knowing there was potential of me not being around made every moment that much more precious,” Kevin said. “Cancer has basically made my life more valuable every single day.”

That’s not to say he hasn’t always made the most of his life, as he’s the giving type of guy. Brian has always been inclined to help others. When he was a teeneager he worked as lifeguard, and has been a paramedic for the past 23 years. His favorite part about being a firefighter is the medical aspect because it means being able to give back to those who need it most. For him being a firefighter is quite the opposite of acting as a status symbol or about bolstering his ego.

The Stairclimb means a great deal to Brian, as he says some of the funds raised in previous Stairclimbs have gone directly to research at the Oregon Health Science University which has helped save his life. His department had already been involved for many years by the time Brian was diagnosed. So when he found out he had a blood cancer, suddenly he ended up being somewhat of a “poster child” for the cause and figured there was no way he couldn’t become a participant himself.

He admits that without fail, the climbing itself is miserable. Hot, painful, “makes you want to die.” But every time he makes it to the top of the Columbia Center this feeling disappears as intense elation and sense of accomplishment takes over. He always comes out of the experience eagerly anticipating next year’s event. He’s again ready to tackle the tower for his fourth year climbing.

“I’m blessed that I have a type of leukemia that is treatable,” Brian said. “There are far less fortunate people that don’t end up making it and I should be able to live a long life with this disease. It’s not going to stop me from doing anything in my life."

There’s no doubt that’s a fact.

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Janet Schaefer

Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma
Aumsville Fire

There may be nothing more frustrating than knowing something is wrong, but not being able to pinpoint exactly what it is. Janet Schaefer, was unfortunate enough to experience this feeling for an entire decade. After years and years of having troublesome gastrointestinal symptoms including persistent pain and vomiting, Janet was finally able to find a specialist to give her an answer.

But not necessarily the answer she hoped. On August 3, 2012, Janet was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Doctors say she went so many years misdiagnosed as having IBS because the cancer had been hiding out in her small intestine making it difficult to detect.

At first Janet was in shock from hearing the infamous “c-word” applied to herself, but says she can’t deny she experienced an additional rush of relief at finally getting a definitive answer for her severe and longstanding symptoms. After spending thousands and thousands of dollars on testing and so much time following mislead treatments, she suddenly felt a “hallelujah” moment of finding something concrete - but of course it had to be cancer. At the time, Janet and her wife Kristine found themselves both crying and laughing at the absurdity of their new situation.

“At some point when you’re testing and searching for so long you reach a point where you just need to be able to form a plan,” Janet said.

After her first dosage of chemotherapy things quickly took a turn for the worse. Once it was administered, Janet ended up coding and going into severe anaphylactic shock at the hospital. Luckily she was successfully revived, and surprisingly her newly discovered allergy to her chemotherapy didn’t end up preventing the treatments from working. After enduring two rounds, a follow-up biopsy in January of 2013 revealed results that were cancer-free.

But clean scans don’t always mean life returns to normal. Like many other diseases, cancer comes at heavy physical, mental, and financial costs. Although it's been four year since Janet’s treatments ended, she is still feeling the effects in day to day life. She suffers from what is colloquially referred to as “chemo brain” - a common side effect which makes remembering details such as the timeline of events very difficult. Additionally, Janet says her chemo cost $10,000 per treatment, and even with decent medical insurance her family is still slowly chipping away at paying these monumental medical bills.

“Chemo made me so ill that I really couldn’t do anything,” Janet said. “My spice for life felt like it was gone. It left me feeling hopeless for awhile.”

For someone who is as active as Janet, being temporarily physically disabled was one of the toughest parts of her entire experience. As a woman who used to play professional women’s football, is currently in a softball league with her wife, and generally adores playing sports with her kids - her 20-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter - being bedridden for extended periods of time was a serious mental trial. But despite Janet’s feeling that she was unable to act as her family’s “rock” while she was in recovery, it seems that she has bounced back immensely.

“[Cancer] has tenfold made us a better family, made Kristine and I better partners and parents, and made my kids better,” Janet said. “The kids got to spend time with their other mom and dad more, and our whole family became stronger because of it in order to lift me up when I needed help.”

As an individual who coincidentally worked for seven years in a radiation oncology unit long before she became a firefighter or was diagnosed with cancer herself, learning to be on the other side of caregiving was a bit of a hurdle. Janet clearly has a knack for taking care of others, as she now works as a special education skills trainer who specializes in students with extreme difficulties such as autism and various learning or behavioral issues. She’s spent the last ten years working alongside these youths aged 11-20, both in open and lock-up facilities.

Whether at work or in her personal life, she remains optimistic and ultimately thankful. Her diagnosis has reinforced the notion that no matter the challenges life throws at you, there is always a way to make it through to the other side. Having an ambitious and spunky yet humble personality like her’s can't hurt either.

Now that she’s healthy enough to participate in the Firefighter Stairclimb, she says that she hopes to, “be a motivation and inspiration for someone else to let them know they can make it through chemo and to just never give up.”

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Mark Taylor

Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia
Bend Fire Department (retired)

With easy access to a plethora of medical websites like Wed M.D., it’s become common for people to self-diagnosis based on sometimes arbitrary symptoms. But when Mark Taylor, a now retired firefighter from Bend Fire & Rescue, turned to “Dr.Google” with the concerning results of his annual fire station blood test, he was one of the few people who turned out to be right about his symptoms.

On December 20, 2013, a doctor confirmed what Mark had been fearing to be true, that he had Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. His white blood cell count had been running high for a couple years, and in one instance, it was actually double the “high” range of a normal cell count. In his late fifties, he was diagnosed at 15-years younger than the average person who gets CLL, according to his doctor. He is fairly certain that this was due to an environmental cause linked to carcinogenic exposure while working as a firefighter in his earlier years.

It’s been predicted that he's about four to five years away from beginning actual treatment because this type of cancer is very slow moving. He been told that unless his cancer acts up erratically, doctors have a pretty good idea of what the next several years should look like for him. But this isn’t always a comforting thought. It can sometimes feel like there’s a devil on his shoulder lying in wait that just doesn’t want to go away.

Last year Mark contracted a serious case of pneumonia since his immune system is much weaker than the average person. He ended up on five different antibiotics within two months alongside a sinus infection and a lung abscess. Trying to maintain his wellness is a definite challenge in his life, but all things considered he still refers to his cancer as “the good type of leukemia.”

Mark knows that while a cancer diagnosis can seem like an end-all, what’s most important to him is how one moves forward from such a dark experience. He encourages others to try and take charge of their own futures because with resources provided by organizations like the Cancer Support Network and LLS, there is hope for patients whether in treatment or in finding solace in the encouragement of others.

Despite knowing in the back of his head it is likely his line of work that was the catalyst for this disease, Mark couldn't love being a firefighter more. He’s always preferred being active, working with his hands, and helping people whenever he can. He’s been a career paramedic for 25 years, and says nothing can compare to the feeling of saving someone’s life and helping people in need.

“I would say one of the more intimate relationships you can have with someone is to try and help a stranger,” Mark said. “They allow you into their life and give you all their trust.”

Like many others, he finds the fire service to be like his second family. Even when he’s traveled to other countries and visited their fire stations, they welcome him in as if he’s one of their own.

Mark knows all about the importance of family, as a father of two grown children - a 30-year-old daughter and a 27-year-old son. And now he’s now primarily concerned about being there to watch his grandchildren grow up. Like any good grandparent, he hopes to be around to watch them go off to college, get married, and although his future is uncertain, ultimately just be present in their lives as much as possible. It’s obvious that Mark is a humble and caring man. He’s often thinking about people other than himself despite his medical situation.

“When I think about kids going through cancer, and what their families go through emotionally and financially, I can’t even imagine,” Mark said. “It’s then pretty easy for me to tell myself to shut up and put one foot in front of the other.”

And he literally does just that. He’s been a Stairclimb participant for the past decade. He thought the 2016 Stairclimb would be his last, but after reconsidering the feeling of seeing the honorees practically glowing on event day, and experiencing the energy of thousands of fellow firefighters all in one place for an amazing cause, he decided he’d give it one last go.

As a retiree, Mark is living the good life. He recently moved to Spokane with his wife, bought a used trailer, and says it’s now difficult to find them at home during the summer. Often off exploring the grand Pacific Northwest, Mark is a true Cascadian through and through. Whether he’s fly fishing, road biking, playing the bagpipes or just being a grandpa, Mark isn’t letting his diagnosis change the way he enjoys his life.

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Dave Cisar

Small Lymphocytic Leukemia
Applegate Valley Fire Department

For those that have never experienced a brush with cancer, it may be difficult to imagine the feeling of receiving a diagnosis. Or let alone how to deal with the immense repercussions a life altering diagnosis can bring.

Dave Cisar, a volunteer firefighter with the Applegate Valley Fire Department in Grants Pass, Oregon, was one of the many who did indeed end up being diagnosed twice.

About four years after his initial brush with what turned out to be melanoma, Cisar received a secondary diagnosis that has truly reshaped how he views and tries to live his life.

In early 2016, Cisar discovered a swollen lymph node in his neck. The node did not heal on its own, and remained enlarged for several months. After an eventual visit to the doctor, blood tests revealed elevated lymphocyte levels. A biopsy concluded that the swelling had a root cause - lymphoma. Cancerous cells were also found to be present in Cisar's bone marrow.

He was officially diagnosed with both stage 2 SLL (small lymphocytic lymphoma), as well as stage 1A CLL (chronic lymphocytic leukemia) due to the dual presence of cancerous cells. From here, Cisar received a referral from a fellow firefighter who also had been diagnosed with a similar cancer and contacted a specialist in San Diego, California. He eventually landed with a specialist in Eugene, OR, whom he still sees regularly years later.

Strangely enough, although Cisar is currently a patient, he has not yet undergone any treatment for his type of blood cancer. Doctors have deemed Cisar's status to be in the "wait and worry" period, in which his status is monitored every six months to see if his cancer has spread or his symptoms have intensified.

Because Cisar’s lymphoma is considered to be chronic, it is slow growing, and with no known cure. While his current symptoms are relatively minimal - swollen lymph nodes and exhaustion - he will not receive treatment until his symptoms progress further.

“Think of this cancer like a weed,” Cisar said. “If I were to begin treatment now, my body would likely get used to the treatment and stop responding. Therefore, doctors are waiting until I get really sick before they begin.”

While his physical symptoms haven't yet become severe, this cancer diagnosis has most certainly caused disruption in his day-to-day life. The financial and emotional burden of a cancer diagnosis has taken its toll.

“You just ask yourself, ‘How am I going to pay for this?’, when you see that the initial visit to get diagnosed can cost $20,000 without insurance, and some treatments are over $100,000," Cisar said. "You ask yourself how am I going to leave my wife without any savings if this doesn’t work out? When do I say enough is enough? Am I going to stay local for treatment or pay more to travel? And in general, how do you deal with declining health?”

With all of this weighing on his mind, Cisar admits that he's recognized he has been guilty of taking his life for granted. But it is for certain that this diagnosis has changed the way he intends to continue living by putting intent behind all that he does.

“Cancer is like a dark cloud. It is a storm. But there is a silver lining,” Cisar said. “It gives you a chance to face death and make some practical decisions, both emotional and spiritual, to get your life in order. I want to take better advantage of the life I have and use this as a springboard to live my life to the fullest."

With decades worth of dedicated years in the fire service and a motivation to live with newfound purpose, it's no doubt he will.

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Patrick Jesse

Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma
Chicago Fire Department
Patrick is 1 of 13 current members of CFD who have been diagnosed with a blood cancer.

"In 2011, while recovering from shoulder surgery related to a duty-injury I had sustained will working as a Firefighter/Paramedic for the Chicago Fire Department, I found a small lump in my abdomen.  Not thinking much more about it, I continued on with my rehab for my shoulder while also studying for the MCATs.  A few weeks later, the pain began in my back and found that I was losing my appetite.  I assumed it was from stress of the MCATs and decided to just push through it.  Eventually, the pain was so intense that I could not sleep at night, and was only getting a few hours of sleep a day only while in the shower.

I proceeded to my medical doctor and began a battery of tests over the next month to try and determine what was wrong.  My blood work was all normal, with no abnormalities whatsoever.  And yet, the small lump persisted. After I was finally able to secure an ultrasound, the radiologist concluded I needed a biopsy as soon as possible. The biopsy turned out to be inconclusive, and a second surgery was then scheduled. It was discovered that the mass in my abdomen was a lymph node that was spiral-wrapped around my iliac artery and nerves, compressing them and growing into the psoas muscle in my back.  The pain finally started to subside after this, but then the real journey began.

I clearly remember the night that my surgeon called me to inform me of the outcome of the surgery.  It was a cool summer evening in Chicago as the sounds of the commuter trains passing under my condo window filled the air. I looked across the granite island in my kitchen at my mother as I heard the surgeon say what we already were suspecting: "It's a type of lymphoma, your oncologist will tell you more."  I eventually found out that my newly diagnosed cancer was a rare, aggressive form of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma that is not typically found in someone my age.

Hearing those words changes your life and re-prioritizes everything that is important. Friends, family, and time become the most important things to you.  Money and material possessions suddenly lose their value as you begin the journey to attempt to save your life.

In doing research on my diagnosis and looking for reputable sources of information, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society was the first place that I went. What I received was more than what I could have imagined.

When I first called LLS, I was surprised to find a live agent on the phone offering me financial assistance information, treatment information, and people to talk to about my emotions. It was such a welcoming feeling from an organization that I had never even considered before. Over the course of the next six months, I received my treatment for my lymphoma and experienced all the hopes, fears, anxiety, and challenges.  I had been a paramedic for 13 years at that time and had to stop being the person taking care of others and be the person receiving the care instead, a strange juxtaposition of roles. 

Because I didn't know if I was going to survive my treatment, I had to postpone a wedding. Because I didn't know if I would have the physical ability to protect citizens and visitors of Chicago if I did survive, I had to put my career with the Chicago Fire Department on hold.

Since that time, I have felt that it is my responsibility to share my experience with as many people as possible so that they know they are not alone and that what they are feeling and what they are going through is not unusual. I have tried to live a life with much more compassion and purpose. 

LLS has allowed me an opportunity to do this through a variety of ways: fundraising through Light the Night, Team in Training, Man and Woman of the Year, and now the Firefighter Stairclimb. I've also participated in custom GORUCK physical endurance events to raise money for LLS, engaged in patient advocacy through visits at the state level and also nationally at the Day on the Hill in Washington DC, and reaching out to others through support groups and peer support to help them through their time of need.

I don't use the term survivor to describe myself, I use the term fighter.  To me, a survivor is someone who has made it through an event and it is over.  I don't see my cancer experience as being over. Rather, I believe my cancer journey to be a continuous battle that all of us in the Fire service brother and sisterhood are a part of in order to eliminate the possibility of another person being diagnosed." - as told by Patrick.

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Aaron Leuck

Hodgkin's Lymphoma
Boise Fire Department

For most people, receiving a cancer diagnosis would immediately cause panic and fear. When Aaron Leuck of Boise Fire Department heard the words, “You have cancer,” the first sensation he felt was shockingly, relief. Leuck had been suffering for 9 long months with a mysterious illness that caused intense, full-body itching that no doctor could solve or treat. For Leuck, finding an answer, regardless of how serious it might be, was better than continuing to live in total uncertainty.

During these past 9 months, Leuck was bounced around from nearly every type of medical specialist imaginable. From dermatologists to even a psychiatrist to explore psycho-somatic roots, Leuck was at his wits end. Endless new medications, creams, probing doctors, and varying answers were proving unfruitful in ending his daily pain and discomfort. Eventually, it was a dermatologist of all people who ended up recommending that Leuck go in for a chest x-ray.

In an alarming twist, the afternoon after this appointment Leuck received a call from the radiologist. He was informed that he had a mass the size of a grapefruit wrapped around his heart. Suddenly his other symptoms such as night sweats, weight loss, difficulty sleeping through the night, and swollen lymph nodes all began to point toward an answer that Leuck never expected to hear. It was confirmed that Leuck had a blood cancer - Hodgkin’s Lymphoma - and was sent straight to an oncologist.

“After nine months of not having answers, I finally had something concrete and thought ‘let’s just go and fix this’,” Leuck said.

He soon began treatment to battle his cancer which consisted of chemotherapy administered over six months, every other week. He also received radiation to combat the mass in his chest. At the conclusion of his treatment, Leuck was luckily soon able to return to work at his station. But it only took a year before that dreaded itching sensation began once again.

This time he was taken in for a biopsy of his lungs, which revealed that the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was back. Since he had now relapsed, Leuck’s next treatment option was to begin prepping to receive a stem cell transplant.

In order to be appropriately readied for such an intense procedure, Leuck had to undergo a combination of three different chemo drugs once a month, have his stem cells harvested via a dialysis machine, then was put into the hospital for over 3 weeks. Next came around-the-clock chemo until his blood count was low enough to safely feed his stem cells back into his body. He describes this process as absolutely miserable, physically and mentally.

As a result, his entire gastrointestinal tract became inflamed, his mouth was plagued by constant sores, and he was taken out of work for a full year this time around.

At the beginning of his treatments, Leuck wanted doctors to be as transparent as possible with him. He asked them when he could expect to know that the treatments had been successful in the long haul, and was quoted with the standard 5-year remission marker. To Leuck, this 5-year mark always seemed like just a number. After a couple years post-stem cell transplant, he consciously stopped going in for cancer-specific checkups out of certainty that his body would “let him know” if anything went awry again, just like it had in the past.

“Maybe I was a little naïve, but while going through all this I didn’t ever think there was going to be an outcome other than ‘I’m getting fixed and getting on with my life’,” Leuck said.

And thus far, he’s been right. After spending 9 months with an undiagnosed disease, Leuck was simply happy to move forward with his life. While he was in treatment, he says his local fire union stepped up to the plate. In every way possible. Many members offered assistance for him and his family to help with transportation, housing near his treatment center, and constantly covering shifts. With this support, and a successful second treatment, Leuck was able to eventually get back to the only thing he ever wanted his normal life, back at the firehouse.

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Joe Myall

Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma
South Kitsap Fire & Rescue

Although the 2019 LLS Firefighter Stairclimb will be Joe Myall’s first involvement with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, the drive behin dhis climb will be more personal than most. This Washington firefighter and chaplain from South Kitsap Fire & Rescue is not only a blood cancer survivor himself, but watched his wife go through her own battle with blood cancer as well.

His own story began after finding a lump under his left arm in 2002. Myall knew he immediately needed to get a biopsy. Test results came back quickly, revealing that this swollen lymph node was a result of non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma (NHL).

It’s safe to say that a cancer diagnosis never comes at an ideal time. But when you’re commuting 100 miles a day for work, just put your home on the market, and have signed papers for a new house only 2 days before finding something potentially life-threatening, things can get exceptionally stressful.

When Myall’s doctor revealed that this lump was indeed the result of a blood cancer, Myall and his wife inevitably felt a sickening rush of shock. But his doctor quickly assured him that they should go through with the move, because he was going to take care of them.

“You’re not going to die from this,” Myall’s doctor said.

He then began 18 weeks of R-CHOP chemotherapy, followed by a course of another chemo drug, Rituxan, several months later. Myall concluded his treatment the day before Thanksgiving 2002. Aside from just a couple follow up PET scans over the years, Myall has thankfully been cancer-free since 2003.

“Everyone is reluctant to use the c-word [cured], but I’ll put it this way, so far, so good,” Myall says.

He admits that he feels a little embarrassed to talk about his time in treatment because in comparison to many others, his side effects were incredibly mild. Aside from some nausea, restless leg syndrome, and a one-time allergic reaction to Rituxan, Myall calls his experience a, “proverbial walk in the park.”

And for this he feels very fortunate. He knows all too well the harsh side of cancer treatments, as he had a close friend who battled another form of NHL and said his side effects, “just about killed him.” Then there is his wife Robyn, for which there was no cure.

In a tragic coincidence, Robyn passed away on October 5, 2017 from acute lymphoblastic lymphoma (ALL).

Fourteen years after Myall was declared in remission, his wife developed a strange pain in her abdomen. A gynecologic oncologist suspected she had ovarian cancer and took her in for surgery with the intent of performing a total hysterectomy. While she was under it was discovered that her colon was actually ridden with lymphoma.

The chemo that was required to treat her kind of cancer would have been extremely intense, and wildly difficult and painful to endure. Robyn had previously seen her mother go through a similar course of treatment for breast cancer, and knew she didn’t want to take this route. She opted for at-home hospice care with her husband, and just a few weeks later she was gone.

These experiences with cancer have left Joe believing that everyone goes through difficult time in order to be prepared to walk along someone else fighting a similar fight. He has channeled these tragedies into positive teachings for those with whom he works. As a volunteer Chaplin at his fire department for the past seven years, Myall always strives to encourage others that they can beat what they’re going through. In 2019, he will try his hand at fundraising for blood cancer research and give back in yet another way.

“Somebody ahead of me paid for research that developed the course of treatment that saved my life,” Myall said. “I think had we been able to get a diagnosis earlier for my wife, perhaps it could've been a different outcome.”

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Kino Suarez

Acute Myeloid Leukemia
Cal Fire - Riverside County

For a normally active man, Kino Suarez of Cal Fire Riverside County, felt exhausted during his usual activities. Paddling out on his surfboard, running the regular hill by his house, and fulfilling usual actions as a firefighter left Suarez unusually drained with no explanation.

Soon he noticed that his gums began to bleed, and what should have become just a normal bruise, resulted in extreme swelling. During his next blood draw, doctors revealed his levels were extremely abnormal and he instantly was instructed to get blood transfusions to increase his platelet levels. He was then diagnosed with AML, type M3 APL, a form of acute myelocytic leukemia.

Luckily, doctors had a full plan.

“Even though it felt like I was hit with a lightning bolt of sadness, I didn’t dive into the ‘why me’ mindset,” Suarez said. “I just knew that I had to be 100% on board with the program and get it done."

In essence, the treatment for most types of AML has been standardized since the 70s. While AML can be notoriously difficult to diagnosis, because of the acute onset and vague symptoms, it is generally considered to be around 90% curable. The danger comes when a patient is diagnosed too late in the game for treatment to be effective.

Suarez has thankfully made it through over six years of remission thus far.

“Every year is a great year,” Suarez said. “Hitting the 5-year mark was big for me, because that’s the benchmark in the cancer world that you’re cured.”

However, it wasn’t an easy process for Suarez to reach this point. Right after diagnosis he began full neutropenic protocol, began taking at least nine pills a day, along with IV treatments and various procedures. The first 5 days felt like a cakewalk, but then something started to feel off.

When he went off IV fluids, his body lost the ability to flush out toxins. It began to attack itself, meaning Suarez endured projectile vomiting, diarrhea, fevers, hallucinations, lost all energy, became hypotensive, and his kidneys eventually shut down. Then in the ICU, mouth sores cropped up from the chemo, meaning he wasn’t able to eat any foods orally.

“It felt like I had no control over my body whatsoever,” Suarez said. “I remember thinking if I can just focus on sitting up, breathing, and staying conscious, I won’t fall into a coma and lose my ability to even control one little thing.”

In fact, it wasn’t revealed until much later that during this time, doctors had come to Suarez’s wife saying that he had hit rock bottom. His body was completely shutting down, and the family should come visit as soon as possible because he probably only had one day left.”

Luckily, his treatment did prove to be a success, and Suarez’s hardy nature helped him pull through.

He knew he wouldn’t be operating back at 100% for quite a while, but even the success of completing a simple workout, or returning to work felt like big steps at the beginning. Once back at the station, Suarez says he actually only had to call in sick a couple times post-treatment, despite still taking oral chemotherapy maintenance pills for a couple years. He even ended up snowboarding just a few weeks post-release, and soon was back to his usual paddle boarding and surfing in winter.

Suarez admits that being diagnosed, and learning how to process his sickness was an emotional rollercoaster.

“It was gnarly and traumatic at times, and you just want an emotional release from it all,” Suarez said.

He found some solace through seeking spiritual guidance, therapy, employee support services, and learned how to cope much better than before. The Firefighter Cancer Support Network also became an instrumental tool, and connected Suarez as a mentor with fellow survivors in the fire service. His biggest piece of advice, is to listen to your own body. Set your own personal achievements and continue taking steps forward, no matter how small it may feel.

Having a firefighter personality can make things difficult to handle, since we try to handle literally everything,” Suarez said. “Life changes so fast, and if you happen to die, your department and job is still going to continue on, but your family will get left behind and that’s what’s important,” Suarez said.

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BRIEANNE HOCKERSMITH

STAGE 3-4 HODGKINS LYMPHOMA
Chugiak Fire Department

In 2009 I was diagnosed with stage 3-4 Hodgkins Lymphoma. At the time I was a nutritionist and Nutritional Chef in Southern California. After 6 months of aggressive chemo, I was pronounced in remission.

If there’s one thing that that experience taught me, is that our time can be short and to do everything that you want to do.

In the last 10 years my career is taking me to unique places. I’ve cooked with Cirque du Soleil, for the musician Prince, Alaskan fishing lodges in Alaska where I live now, but most notably, my fellow Saint Andrews parishioners as well as my brothers and sisters now at the fire station. They definitely appreciate a former Chef on their crew.

It’s OK to change your career. It might be the breath your life needs.

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