One of the many enduring songs performed by the Beatles is “The Long and Winding Road”. While Paul McCartney may not have had us in mind, the song can describe our journey from diagnosis to the joyful smile of a survivor.

My journey began in 1997, when an initial diagnosis of Lymphoma morphed into a more problematic diagnosis of Mantle Cell Lymphoma. After much research, I decided that an aggressive approach was best. Welcome to the long and winding road!

The treatment included chemo, total-body radiation, and a stem cell transplant. It also included losing much of 1998 to treatment and recovery.

There were ups, and there were way, way downs during that period. But there was never a question in my mind about survival. I was never in doubt. And I was never alone. My wife, my sons and their wives, my brother and sisters, my friends and business associates, were there with me, every step of the way. And we were joined by an extended family that included prayer groups, some made up of people I knew, and some made up of people I didn’t.

As my recovery progressed, I began re-involving myself in activities I had enjoyed and participated in prior to my diagnosis. Among the first, and now incredibly personal, was the Relay For Life, the premier fund-raiser for the ACS. Those of you who have participated know how awesome and humbling that first “Survivor’s Lap” is. Tears and goosebumps are the order of the day.

Perhaps my sensitivity was heightened because of my survivor status, but as I worked for the Relay, I noticed how often people were identified by their cancer! They became the lymphoma, or the lung, or the breast. I thought it important that we realize that cancer victims are people, and deserve the dignity of being recognized as a person with a disease, rather than a disease attached to a person.

So with the blessing, help, and cooperation of the relay committee and a local realtor, I established “Cancer Has A Face” as an event at our Relay. A large 3-panel bulletin board was put in place at the Relay site. As cancer survivors registered for a reception and the survivor’s walk, we took snapshots of them, and posted the pictures on the bulletin board.

The project was a success! Soon the board was filled with pictures of smiling faces, all cancer survivors. And for the entire Relay, there was never a time when there weren’t people flocked around the bulletin board, looking for their picture and those of other survivors.

As I was taking pictures during the following year’s Relay, I noticed an interesting phenomenon. When I asked some of the people to smile, the most I got was a thin-lipped attempt. I don’t know whether they were tired or distracted, but smiling was not at the top of their favorite things to do. But when I asked those same people to give me a big “Survivor’s Smile”, they lit up. The thin-lipped grimace became a broad grin. Their eyes brightened, and they stood a little taller. The joy of surviving had transcended the burden of coping with their disease.

From that moment forward, I asked for a “big Survivor Smile”. In every case, I was rewarded with a bright, broad, engaging grin. The grin conveyed the pride, happiness, gratitude, and humility felt by a cancer survivor.

You can create your own experiment. Ask a cancer survivor to smile. Then ask to see a “Survivor’s Smile”. You will find the difference profound.

One of the people who assisted in my recovery process was medical talk-show host Dr. Dean Edell. His program was aired on my local station at a time when it was convenient for me to walk. Walking was a significant component of my regimen, and allowed me to gain strength steadily, at my own pace. Listening to him while I walked made the walk easier, and I could learn something at the same time!

When he wasn’t cajoling us to “Eat, Drink, and Be Merry”, he was discussing general health issues, and using anecdotes to make his point. One of his favorites, was to quote comedian Redd Foxx. Foxx talked about watching people obsess about diet, exercise, and lifestyle, and asked rhetorically, “What are those people going to think, when they’re 85 0r 90 years old, lying in a hospital, dying of nothing?”

We’re all going to die of something. In our case it may be our current cancer, or perhaps one not yet diagnosed. But not yet. Not now. For now, we are survivors. Don’t believe it? Take a look in a mirror. Take a look at a Survivor’s Smile!!

Enjoy this website. It has been created to allow survivors, their family, friends, and caregivers a place to come to feel at home - - - a place to share experiences, and delight in knowing that more and more of us are surviving, triumphing, and smiling!