Gracin Casady

2020 Big Climb Honoree

My son Gracin was diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia on March 6th, 2018 at the age of 8. The path that lead us to his diagnosis was not an easy one. Shortly after Gracin’s 5th birthday we started noticing an inflamed lymph node on the right side of his neck. It would swell up occasionally here and there but eventually it was inflamed more often than not. When I say inflamed, I mean it would protrude from his neck, visibly about the size of a golf ball. We addressed it with his pediatrician multiple times but the answer we always received was that he was just battling a virus. By the time Gracin was 6, this golf ball sized lymph node never left his neck. His pediatrician told us it was nothing to be worried about and assured us it was simply a deadened lymph node.

Fast forward to when Gracin was 7 and entering 3rd grade, not only did he have this mass on the side of his neck but he started complaining of leg pain. I knew something was wrong because as the months passed the leg pain went from just an irritation to the pain becoming completely debilitating for Gracin. He would scream and cry and become inconsolable. In December 2017, Gracin woke me up in the middle of the night sobbing quietly to tell me that he was not going to live through the night. He told me that he was in so much pain that he was sure he was dying. I rushed him to the ER and after running tests they released us with the diagnosis of growing pains, which is what his pediatrician had told us as well. Gracin had a few more leg pain episodes up until diagnosis that we simply, now shamefully, ignored. I thought he was consistently attempting to get out of school because after all every professional told us he was fine and healthy...

Thursday March 4th, 2018 Gracin woke up not wanting to go to school saying he was tired. I of course sent him to school and assured him he could go to bed early that night. Around lunch time I received a call from Gracin’s attendance lady. She wanted to personally tell me that Gracin was napping in the nurses office and she thought something was wrong with him. His teacher said he was almost lethargic and unable to stay awake in class. I took him home and allowed him to sleep. He claimed he was just tired. Gracin slept for almost 24 hours straight so by Friday I had made an appointment with his pediatrician and told her that I wanted extensive blood work done and we needed answers. On Friday afternoon, not even 45 minutes after we left, after Gracin’s blood work was taken I got a phone call that shook me to my core. Gracin’s pediatrician was clearly shaken up and told me that his blood work was not right and that I needed to take Gracin to Seattle Children’s hospital immediately. She said she couldn’t give me any answers but she believed there was some “foreign process” going on in his body.

Upon arriving at Children’s, we were met with the ER doctors as well as the oncology team. After conducting their own labs, they let us know they would be admitting us to the oncology floor for further testing. We were reassured that it was only precautionary and that they were 99% sure it was not cancer related. Over the next couple days we met with every specialist possible, multiple times. Rheumatology, infectious disease, you name it. Questions after questions, tests until eventually on Sunday it was handed back to oncology. Monday March 5th they performed a bone marrow aspirate on Gracin. Again we were told they were still 99% positive it wasn’t cancer and this was simply being done to rule it out. As much I knew in my gut it was cancer, after reading up on all his symptoms that weekend in the hospital, I still wasn’t prepared to hear the words “Gracin has cancer”.

March 6th, 2018 in a room with an oncologist, a resident (two strangers) and Gracin’s step mom, I found out my 8 year old son had cancer, Leukemia. To make matters worse, his step mom and I chose to stop the oncologist after hearing those words as we didn’t want anymore details until Gracin’s father was present as well as my husband, Gracins step father. As a result, we had to hear it again but this time knowing what was going to be shared as new news to the other half of Gracin’s parents. After a tormenting 5 days in the hospital, years of symptoms, we finally had our answer and it was all of our worst fear.

Gracin was hospitalized for the next 10 days as they started treatment. I assumed that we would have time to process, look at treatment options, hospital/oncologist options but I realized quickly that was not the case. His cancer is acute and was moving quickly so we needed to act fast. The next day he started treatment. This 8 year old boy who screamed at the site of needles and could barely take down cough syrup was getting poked multiple times a day, given an abundance of different medications orally and intravenously. In a week he was on multiple chemo’s, many other medications to combat the side effects of the chemo and had undergone three procedures. Gracin didn’t even bat an eye. Instead he focused on the positive things, like the perks of having a 5 page menu to choose from for every meal. As well as being able to have unlimited amounts of Gatorade and ice cream cups because they all counted towards his liquid intake. He said he was scared when I asked him but never once did he show any fear. He was simply brave and present.

Thankfully after the first 5 weeks of treatment, Gracins cancer was put into remission. Gracins treatment is 3-1/2 years long and right now we are 18 months in. He is currently in the long term maintenance phase of treatment which requires him to take daily and weekly chemo’s at home, have monthly check ups/labs and every three months he has lumbar punctures with intrathecal chemotherapy. This will be the routine for the duration of Gracin’s treatment.

Since diagnosis Gracin has been through so much. Monthly lumbar punctures, MRI’s, hospitalizations, hair loss, terrible sickness, 2 port procedures, steroids, NG tube placements and use, weight loss, significant weight gain, missing half his 3rd grade school year, missing an entire summer, unending amount of port accesses, ER visits, spinal headaches, physical therapy, counseling, insomnia, lethargy, bacterial spinal meningitis, petechiae, red blood cell transfusions, platelet transfusion, chemo increase, chemo holds due to low counts, anaphylactic shock from chemo and a ton of different side effects from all the medications and chemos he’s been on.

As a result of steroids and one of Gracins chemo’s, Vincristine, he has neuropathy and the beginning stages of bone death in one of his legs. Gracin has always been a very active, sports kid so this has been the hardest blow for Gracin as it has affected the way he walks (joints/ankles) and runs (speed). Regardless, Gracin has been determined to not allow anything hold him back. This spring he played baseball and this fall he started flag football. He pushes himself constantly when it comes to sports or academics and fights to not have any modifications made on his behalf because of his cancer. Gracin has always been a competitive kid and he has faced this battle with cancer just like any other competition. Fearless, relentless, goal minded, passionate but still is able to maintain his softer compassionate side and not get down on himself during the low points. To say the least, our life has forever changed. This is a family and a community we wouldn’t have ever asked to be apart of. With that said, I’m so grateful for everyone who is in it with us. Like other brave cancer impacted families who also don’t have a choice but also those who by choice, CHOOSE to be in it with us. This includes organizations like LLS and the individuals who help make the LLS possible by helping to raise funds and awareness. There isn’t nearly enough government funding for cancer research, blood cancer research/trials and specifically pediatric cancer. This is why it is so important to support and bring awareness to organizations that raise private funds for cancer research. Until we have a cure, there needs to be better treatments with less long term and short term side-effects and the only way to discover new treatments and eventually a cure, is through raising awareness and providing funding to research facilities.

This is why The Big Climb specifically is special to our family. The popularity of it has brought so much awareness thus funding to our corner of the world. A small team of my family climbed last year for the first time in honor of Gracin. Gracin came to support us and cheer us on. When he walked in and saw the multitude of the teams and people preparing to climb, jumping up and down in excitement all to support something that directly has affected him, he was in awe. He immediately told me that he wanted to climb the next year. When you are in the hospital room for days on end, you can’t help but feel alone in this battle but then we go to an event like this and we realize that there are so many people in Gracins corner. Last year at The Big Climb, Gracin saw the support and felt it and this year he is looking forward to joining everyone on the climb, whether he makes it all the way to the top or not, his goal is to try his hardest.

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John Remington

2019 Big Climb Honoree

John Remington died on Saturday, April 21, 2018, just shy of his 82nd birthday. He battled CLL (Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia) for 13 years. John was diagnosed with CLL in May of 2005. He was not symptomatic; a routine blood test showed an elevated WBC (white blood cell) count. He was referred to an oncologist that did more tests and advised that at some point he would need treatment. Doctors told him they hoped to give him 10-15 years. John got 13.

John was the most capable man that we have ever known. He was well-read and versed on a myriad of subjects. You could go to him with a question about literally anything and he would likely have an educated, and guaranteed lengthy, answer. I would give anything to be "stuck" listening to one of his lectures now. John is one of the best story tellers you could ever imagine. He worked hard and expected a lot of himself and others. He was an architect, a pilot, and served in the Air National Guard. If you wanted something done and done right, you wanted him to do it. That “something” might end up taking three times as long as would be expected, but it would be PERFECT. He worked out daily and set goals for himself ranging from marathons, weight training, hikes, and in the last years of his life he trained for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Big Climb event. He completed the climb twice, and you can’t even begin to imagine how upset he was when he wasn’t able to do it a third time. Up until a few weeks before he passed he would constantly tell us that he needed to get back to training.

John relished the good things in life including art and music, travel and nature, food and wine, and friends and family. His work took him all over the world spanning the United States, London, Guam, Tokyo, Saudi Arabia, Philippines, Kuwait, and the UAE. While he didn't have a singular best-buddy, the number of people who he had as friends and whom called John friend was legion. He helped out a friend in need without hesitation, volunteered or lent his expertise in areas whenever possible. The experiences of his life gave him an understanding of the world few will ever know. He was unencumbered by the political correctness that stagnates the world and preferred to actually get things done. His keen wit, sense of humor and ease with words, was infectious. Wherever he was people were drawn to him, and the irony is, he really did not want any undue attention. He would be honored, but also somewhat horrified that we were talking about him right now.

After several years of treatments and medications he began to experience night sweats for the first time in his 13 years of cancer. His last three months of his life became very frustrating to him because he had extreme fatigue, weakness, foggy brain, difficulty with concentration and focus which kept him from doing the things he loved. Life changed as John and his wife knew it, they could no longer plan outings, trips, and activities and the fear mounted as John became unstable and had several falls. John needed a lot of help with the smallest things before he died but in his last months of his life he was surrounded daily by his biggest accomplishment — his family.

Cancer absolutely sucks, but you have to stand in the face of it, understand that grieving begins long before death comes, understand that the person is not the disease, learn to accept help, don’t hold back the things that need to be said - those left behind hang onto those words. Be thankful for what you have, know you are not alone even when it feels like you are, laugh even when it hurts, appreciate the little things, when your loved one is gone that is all you remember.

It is an amazing honor for John Remington, husband, dad, brother, and grandfather and friend to be selected as one of the Honoree’s for the LLS Big Climb

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Andrew Taylor

Team captain of the Big Climb team To the Top, Andrew Taylor, had recently become a father for the first time back in 2007. When his child was only two weeks old, a house fire burned through his home. While his family remained safe, there was some structural and smoke damage from the fire that needed repair.

Taylor took it upon himself to lay down some layers of shellac to conceal some of the damage. Almost exactly six months later, Taylor noticed an unusual mass in his abdomen, and doctors soon diagnosed him with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He was told the tumor appeared to have been growing for approximately six months almost exactly since the time he had unintentionally inhaled some chemical fumes from making the repairs on his home.

After this, his family relocated to a different home to start over and he began treatment with rounds of chemotherapy. He underwent six rounds of chemo, which his body reacted well to, although he did lose his hair during the process.

Unfortunately, but not necessarily uncommonly, his lymphoma came back two and a half years later. Taylor once again self-identified that he had at tumor growing, but this time it was found near his throat. By this time his cancer had reached stage 4, and he underwent a stem cell transplant using his own stem cells. This time around the treatment was undeniably tough on Taylor, and meant he had to take time off work from his job at Microfocus.

The stem cell transplant produced only temporary results before just one more year passed and the cancer made its comeback again. Doctors told Taylor he’d need a second stem cell transplant but that it had to come from someone else’s cells, and it needed to be a very specific match.

This type of transplant is inherently risky. Because foreign cells are being placed in a patient’s already susceptible body, the risk of rejection is high if proper procedures and precautions are not taken very seriously.

Because Taylor has an “odd marker” in his genes, he was unable to find a person who was a match in the donor pool to do the transplant. His sister offered to be the donor, and Taylor eventually accepted when no other alternatives could be found.

Getting to the point to be ready for the transplant is a strenuous road. He had to endure more chemo, full-body radiation, and take even more time off of work. He experienced some rough side effects that caused loss of most of his ability to taste, significant weight loss, and at one point he became so thin he had to be put on a feeding tube. His fingers would go numb, extreme cramping at night caused lack of sleep, and there was of course the persistent nausea that seemed like it would never go away.

But all in all, the transplant was a success and Taylor has now passed his 5-year remission mark in May of 2017.

“This procedure was fairly new and risky even 20 years ago, so there have been a lot of advances over the last 10-15 years and a lot of that is due to funding from LLS,” Taylor said. “If this hadn’t work I probably wouldn’t be here. But it did, and my sister is my hero.”

He says many people have asked him what he’s going to do to celebrate his 5-year mark. To this he has to say, take care of his responsibilities. While the cost of treatment didn’t absolutely break the bank for Taylor, and as much as he wishes he could take off and travel, taking a break from his regular life post-cancer is no simple task.

“In reality I don’t have the money to go to Hawaii or on some big trip,” Taylor said. “I have my two kids to take care of, and it’s expensive and time consuming and not everyone has the ability to change up their life. If anything, they would have more bills to keep up with. I probably spent $10K every time I got sick on just copays and the basics,” Taylor said.

It’s obvious that most of Taylor’s focus surrounds being a dedicated father. When he talks about taking his two children on trips to camp in the woods, or plans to visit Banff National Park in Alberta his eyes light up. He says that every year he’s thinking about how he can help create memories and make a great trip for his kids. If remission means anything, it must mean the ability to spend more time with those who matter most.

He is confident that his cancer won’t return, and that he is in the clear for the long haul. He no longer goes in for regular checkups, and brings up the point that in all honesty it’s a serious financial burden. On average, one appointment with scans might cost $1,000 and require taking a vacation day “to get poked, prodded, and told that he’s ok.”

“Everything SCCA has done for me is amazing,” Taylor says. “But I want to leave this behind me. I don’t have fear anymore and I’m done.”

He knows that he would be wasting his time worrying about the ‘what if’s’, and is an advocate of living a balanced life and a committed parent. For him it’s all about living life cancer-free in every sense of the phrase, and doing what he can to give back to the community that supported him throughout his battle.

In fact, last year’s Big Climb was the first event where both his children joined him in the stairwell. They each had their own fundraising pages, and wrote their own reasons for why they were climbing and fundraising for a cure. For Taylor it’s important to educate his children and be transparent about his experiences and how they can do their own part in helping find a cure for blood cancers.

Education about the world of blood cancer is important to Taylor. He even has participated in a couple video projects put on by the National Health Institute about his personal treatment experience, and how he navigated his experience.

He’s satisfied knowing that he can contribute to what those going through a new cancer diagnosis can learn to expect, and hear from varying perspectives. Being your own advocate is also a major piece of how Taylor handled his run with cancer.

At first, his oncologist wasn’t a great fit for what Taylor needed. He was looking for hard facts and realistic, in-depth information that he felt he wasn’t getting. After switching to a different oncologist, Taylor felt it was a better match and that the two would find better success.

“Learning how to step up and advocate for myself really turned into a good thing,” Taylor said. “In general I don’t really have much advice to give about this because I think that people should simply do what is right for them.”

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Curran Parker

When Curran Parker, the namesake of team Climbing for Curry, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma at the age of 20, doctors told him his first treatment had a 90% chance of successfully eliminating his cancer. As it turned out, Parker ended up in that remaining 10% with his cancer returning only three months later in a mass four times the size as before.

Parker's young-adult world and "immortal" sense of self was undoubtedly shaken. But this wasn't his first or last medical scare, as he had been previously diagnosed with focal nodular hyperplasia, meaning reoccurring benign tumors were prone to pop up in his liver over the years. Because of this complication, Parker essentially spent a year in and out of the hospital receiving chemotherapy and radiation, and carefully monitoring if masses on his scans were a result of something more sinister. Despite the tumors' typically harmless nature, every time one would appear it would impart a sense of fear that his lymphoma had made a comeback.

Parker says one of the masses was found in his chest and gave his oncologist cause for concern. But he finds great satisfaction in that on his doctor's very last day as a practicing oncologist, they were lucky enough to find the mass had mysteriously regressed and disappeared entirely on its own. As Parker puts it, he was free.

Now 27 years old and past his 6 year remission mark, he is officially considered in the clear. At this point he is adamant he's in remission for the long haul and fully intends to live his life accordingly.

"Throughout my entire time in remission I felt like something was telling me that it was going to be ok," Parker said. "[I knew] there would be trials and challenges but once I was cured, I was cured."

Since then he has finished his degree in Business Administration from Northwest University and even got married in September 2016. He sees a life spent fixating on something he believes will never come back is senseless and therefore he fully intends to live his days without fear. It's obvious the nurturing care and support he received while going through treatment has left Parker with an attitude that is hard to break.

"I think its taken my perspective to go from worrying about everything to just knowing that ultimately we don’t have the control that we think we do," Parker said. "Pertaining to family, it's given me a stronger backbone to have gone through something like this. To love people better, love my wife better, and care for people in a way that I don’t think would’ve been possible if I hadn’t been cared for during that time."

His inspiration to keep raising funds to find a cure for blood cancers doesn't just come from his own experience. During the 2016 Big Climb, Parker was introduced to a little girl named Olivia who was battling her own form of blood cancer, and was there to support his team. She was sporting a shirt that read "Olivia & Curry", and Parker admits that although he isn't easily shaken, spending time with Olivia that day absolutely melted his heart in a way he'll never forget. Thinking of a child like Olivia going through treatment and the pain of cancer when her life has barely started absolutely "wrecked" him.

"She's the reason why I climb," Parker said.

Whether it's a patient like Olivia, the immense financial burdens many patients have to overcome, or frustrations with his own experience fighting cancer as a young adult, Parker is passionate about raising funds to find a cure.

"I went through a year long battle with multiple failed treatments and was supposed to die," Parker said. "I went through that entire battle and came out the other side and still for the next 5 years had to face all these different scares and prognoses. Most people don't just get cancer and then they're healed and it's done, most people have to go through it multiple times. So imagine going through he worst hell possible, and having to pay bills for thousands and thousands of dollars just to live, then having to do it again. That's the world we live in right now and it's really, really sad."

Although he admits the physical side of the climb can be a nightmare, it's what the Big Climb represents and the funds it raises that keeps Parker coming back every year.

"It's an event where a lot of love happens in a very small space, or rather, in a very small stairwell," Parker said. "It's an opportunity for people who aren’t really that affected by health problems to pay it forward and to be a blessing on somebody’s life."

He hopes that over the years Climbing for Curry, which was started by one of his sisters in 2011 in his honor, will continue to grow exponentially in greatness. For a team that hit the $100,000 fundraising milestone in 2017 after only five years climbing, there's no doubt that they'll continue to achieve that goal.

For him, sharing his blood cancer story means giving back to the community. It's important to be a part of something bigger than himself, and if he can help one person along the way by sharing his experiences and lessons learned, that's really all he can ask for.

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Larissa Dhanani

Back in 2008, Blaine, WA resident Larissa Dhanani received some bruises while playing a casual game of tennis. The bruises were largely shaped, strangely firm in the center, darker than average, and refused to fade away. As a typically healthy person she suspected her iron levels must've been low, so she made an appointment with her doctor in Bellingham.

It was shockingly revealed that her white blood count was off the charts, and she was quickly diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML) at the age of 55.

It wasn't her doctor or an empathetic nurse that delivered the news. She simply received a phone call, likely from a lab tech who processed her blood results. He began rattling off numbers and complex terms in a way that made Dhanani feel like whatever it was he was telling her she had, she was going to die from it. The very next day she was admitted into the hospital.

It was found that her CML was positive for the Philadelphia Chromosome. This meant due to translocation of part of chromosome 9 with chromosome 22, the latter is left abnormally short and causes a protein to signal for uncontrolled division of cancerous cells. This chromosomal defect is present in about 85% of CML patients. Luckily, doctors told her they had the “perfect” LLS-funded drug called Imatinib, (Gleevec) which she was put on right away. It only took three months for her white blood cell count to stabilize.

But this wasn't the end of her cancer journey. Dhanani eventually became resistant to Imatinib and had to be relocated over 100 miles south to be further treated at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance where she stayed for over seven months.

In Seattle she was switched to another drug called dasatinib (Sprycel). As a common precautionary procedure in case she did not show success with this second chemo drug, her oncologist tissue matched Dhanani’s family members to see if any of them could be a match for a bone marrow transplant. Thankfully it turned out her brother, Doug, was indeed that person.

Dasatinib only worked until December 2010 for about 1.5 years until she received another blood test with concerning results. Her cancer had come back in early 2011 and was in what her doctor called "blast crisis." She had tested 95% for AML meaning her leukemia had come back as acute, with higher potential to spread more quickly and a higher risk for death.

"It felt as if my doctor was saying goodbye to me, and like he didn't know what there was to do," Dhanani said.

But despite this turn of events, there was a treatment plan put in place. She was placed on "bookend" chemo with a third drug, nilotinib (Tasigna). She received treatment, then given rest for a week, and then back on chemo in order to outsmart her quickly-adapting leukemia cells. In order to officially be accepted as viable bone marrow transplant candidate, her leukemia cell count had to be down to zero, which by no means is easy to achieve.

Dhanani says this three month period prepping for her transplant was the most difficult. The new form of chemo she endured was so toxic that any clothes she had been wearing needed to be washed before she was allowed to wear them again. Her hair began to fall out, she felt ill all of the time, had gastrointestinal distress, insomnia, intense heartburn, and such severe skin sensitivity that she couldn't even open the fridge door because the cold air was too much of a painful shock. To top it off, she even had to miss her youngest son’s senior year of high school while in the hospital.

Throughout this process she had to return to the hospital for regular lumbar punctures to insert chemo into her spinal fluid, and says she feels lucky that she didn't experience any complications with these procedures. When it came to radiation, Dhanani wasn't about to back down.

"Doctors told me I could get a certain amount divided over ten days, or could take the maximum amount instead, to which I said, ' I guess I'll go big!'" she said.

In order to kill off her immune system so her body would be able to tolerate a foreign transplant, she endured 14 rounds of radiation in one week. She stood alone in a room locked in by a massive metal door. There was a stool behind her, but doctors told Dhanani to only use it in case she thought she was going to faint. The Where's Waldo poster hung on the wall opposite the chair meant to keep patients distracted wasn't of any use to her, since without her glasses she couldn't see. She admits with a laugh that she wasn't very good at that game.

But her three sons, now aged 23, 26 and 30, would come every day to be with her during her radiation appointments, whom the nurses started affectionately referring to as her security guards. Her sons made her a "radiation CD" to listen to while under treatment so she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts.

Dhanani's middle son even decided to drop out of college for a quarter to move to Seattle, take a caregiver's course and be there for his mom when his dad had to be back in Bellingham running his business.

After radiation she was given a day to rest, and then it was time for the transplant. She was in the hospital for 20 straight days, and was only allowed to leave when she could show she was able to eat solid food, stand up on her own, and prove she had 24/7 care from friends or family.

Currently, Dhanani is in remission. However, while she has passed the 5 year remission mark, her doctors don't consider her cured. They tell her they simply don't know enough about if the Philadelphia chromosome is truly gone post-transplant, so they cannot definitively declare her cancer free. She's 6 years out now, and doctors say the further she gets the better chance she has at no relapse.

Although things are quite concrete, she keeps a positive attitude.

"I just try to be involved in my life," Dhanani said. "If I get a little too inside my head I make sure to get out and go do something."

Whether it’s taking Zumba classes like a fiend, or climbing 69 flights of stairs for Big Climb, Dhanani is staying active and motivated for her future.

It was back in 2011 when her youngest brother first heard of the Big Climb and decided to climb solo but under the name Larissa’s Crew. That year he individually raised an impressive $13,000 in her honor. Though she still can’t believe it, that following year she was able to participate on Larissa’s Crew and complete her first climb. In the span of just 6 years, her Crew has raised over $200,000 and Dhanani couldn’t be more motivated.

"The fundraising is what saved my life," she said.

For her it really is all about the research. "These [researchers] who love their job doing meticulous research, they're the reason I got to get to my 50th birthday, to see my kids get married, and see my grandkids," Dhanani said. "They told me if I had this diagnosis 10 years previously it probably would've been a death sentence. This research is everything.

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Andrew Palmer

Andrew Palmer stands 6' 5" tall, has weighed in at almost 400 pounds, projects a booming voice and sports an undeniably impressive beard. He's a man who is capable of dragging washing machines and dryers, carrying boulders, and has even pulled a 727 jet simply because, well, he can. In fact, several years ago this 37-year-old professional Strongman competed on Team USA as a world champion in Siberia in front of a crowd of 10,000 people, and loved every second of it.

He also has a blood cancer.

What started as a simple abdominal pain in spring of 2016 quickly turned into barely being able to stomach food without Palmer wincing in pain. For a guy who has an abnormally high pain tolerance given his hobby of choice and sheer size, making a visit to his doctor meant something serious had to be in the works.

His doctor confirmed that Palmer had a swollen liver and spleen, and scheduled him for a blood marrow biopsy soon after. After being told to not worry and to wait patiently for a week to get back his results, Palmer picked up the phone the very next day to hear news that rocked his world.

"My doctor asked if I was driving, which I was, and told me to pull the car over," Palmer said. "I literally parked on the sidewalk of the Space Needle and was told that I was immediately being admitted to Swedish Hospital and that my doctor didn't know when I was going to come out. My bone marrow was found to be essentially 100% cancer. The test results came with a handwritten note that read, ‘I cannot find functioning marrow in this individual’.”

When he's not working as the director of engineering at Distillery, the world's largest liquor and spirits application, much of Palmer's life revolves around improving his physical strength and being in tune with his body. Which is why his cancer diagnosis of Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) came as such a shock, and can appear as such an anomaly. But in reality, it is a true testament to the often unpredictable and blindsiding nature of blood cancers.

Without pre-screening options for these types of cancers, most patients have no way of knowing until symptoms appears. He admits that the juxtaposition of living as a world renowned professional Strongman who suddenly becomes a cancer patient was indeed disorienting.

“I’ve been hit by cars before and I’m fine, you know?” Palmer said. “I’ve been basically indestructible my entire life and then this happens. It was completely terrifying.”

In fact, the day he received his bone marrow biopsy Palmer had been feeling great. He had literally just set his lifetime personal bench press record at his home gym earlier that morning, and then promptly found out his platelets levels were off the charts. Nurses told him if he had gotten injured around that time period, he likely would've bled out.

And thus, regular training sessions in the gym transitioned into seven months of inpatient chemotherapy. Palmer would spend 5 days in the hospital, and then the following 14 at home. Throughout his Hyper-CVAD chemo which ran through the end of December 2016, he lost all of his hair, was feverish, utterly neutropenic, and due to the development of 4 ulcers in his esophagus, he dropped almost 70 pounds in three weeks’ time. Dealing with the fact that chemo was burning through everything he had was a mental trial indeed.

But despite his side effects, Palmer says he is well aware there are others who have it significantly worse than he. Throughout his treatment he was able to maintain most of his job responsibilities at Distillery, and found that his support system both through coworkers and his social circle of friends was paramount in his recovery.

Tears well up in his eyes as he speaks of how on the day he was admitted to Swedish, his friends showed up with a full-blown dinner party in the waiting room to make sure he wasn’t alone. Not to mention bringing a banner to succinctly sum up their feelings about the situation: “F**k Cancer”, it read. And thus, their Big Climb team name was born.

In fact, the 31st annual Big Climb in 2016 was Palmer’s first direct involvement with LLS. He first heard about the Climb after seeing a postcard sitting in his oncologist's office, and decided that despite the fact he was wildly anemic he might as well give it a go.

He claims that he can out-sprint pretty much anyone, but endurance isn't his game. So he was undoubtedly worried that with his weakened state during treatment, he wouldn’t make it up all 69 floors of stairs. But he did, and raised almost $3,000 in fundraising. Palmer plans to keep participating in Big Climb for as long as he’s able, and hopes to make it a longstanding tradition with his friends.

“It’s really infectious having thousands of people there,” Palmer said. “When you have something that really sucks in your life it just feels really good to have so many people rallying around it.”

Having a support system within your own social circle and within the community as a whole is incredibly important, as Palmer knows. He encourages those going through similar experiences to listen to their own bodies, follow their gut, do their research (but not too much research), and make sure to lean in to their support systems.

Currently considered in complete molecular remission, Palmer is confident that he made the right decisions in deciding his course of treatment with his doctors. However he's a realist who knows that he is not 'cured', and therefore is a massive advocate of supporting organizations like LLS that produce tangible change in the world of cancer.

“LLS funds the creation of new medicines like Dasatinib [also known as Sprycel]” Palmer said. “I wouldn’t be here without it."

He has become particularly passionate about funding of new drugs and therapies, because he knows all too well the inherent risks associated with certain types of treatment like a stem cell transplant which he denied.

“I don’t gamble, but I definitely took a gamble on my quality of life,” Palmer said.

But within 40 days of treatment, results showed he has no trace of leukemia cells left.

He currently goes in monthly for check-ups, and takes cortical steroids amongst several hundred other pills a month. Every Tuesday he takes 21 pills of Methotrexate, and otherwise is on about 10 pills a day. Palmer laughs about the fact that every nurse he’s ever met has told him that he takes the largest dose of chemotherapy they’ve ever seen, which honestly, doesn't surprise him.

“I’m very optimistic about new studies coming out that are leaning towards me making the right decision [about treatment],” Palmer said. “In all honesty, at worst I got 6 extra months of my life back and I feel pretty solid about that.”

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