Bill Crews has been involved with Team In Training since May 2004 as honored teammate, fundraising participant, marathon coach and triathlon coach. He was diagnosed with incurable non-Hodgkin lymphoma in October 2003 and has shared his story many times at many TNT events. The following is part of a speech he gave at an inspiration dinner in January 2013...
The dictionary definition of "hero" is: someone of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.
Over the past several months a lot of people have asked me to talk about my feelings about Lance Armstrong. My typical answer is that I'm grateful for any good he's done for the cancer community and then I change the subject. Some people have even said, "what has happened to Lance is tragic because the cancer community has lost its great hero." What I'm about to say to you has nothing to do with Lance, but everything to do with the lie that the cancer community had only one great hero and no longer does.
If a hero truly is someone with distinguished courage or ability, admired for brave deeds and noble qualities, well then the cancer community remains full of heroes, some alive and well, and others fallen.
My sister Michelle became a hero in my eyes when she was only 5 years old. I will never forget the moment my parents told me she had leukemia. I was 7 years old and scared. But I watched her courageously endure chemotherapy and radiation. I saw her laugh and smile when she was in pain and proudly pull off her wig in front of everyone to jump into the pool to swim with me. Michelle was my best friend.
For a year, I saw a true hero in her as leukemia ate away her life. On the last day of second grade, I went home from school to hear the devastating words that changed my life forever: "your sister died today." One year after her diagnosis, my sister became another victim of blood cancer. In my eyes, Michelle Crews is a fallen hero. She's not out living strong. She never had the chance to run a marathon or become an Ironman. She never had the chance to even finish kindergarten. But she was one of the greatest heroes of my life.
Recently I read an article about teenagers with cancer. They wrote about how they feel about their disease. Kids are so honest. They don't feel the need to put a spin on cancer. They just tell it like they see it. One of the girls said how she just wishes she could go to P.E. class and hang out with her friends, all the normal stuff she's missing out on. Every one of them said they just wanted to go back to the normal stuff, not that they wanted to be some great hero doing big extraordinary things, just the ordinary things all the other teens take for granted. But the quote that stood out the most to me came from a 14-year-old boy. He said, "Cancer has messed up my life. There's no getting round it. People say I'm inspiring and strong. I hate that. I'm no superhero, just a boy who wants to stay alive doing what the doctors and nurses tell him in the hope of one day getting his life back."
This got to me more than anything else because it's how I feel too. My photo is in magazines and on posters at MD Anderson. In it, I stand next to my bike with the word "lymphoma" crossed out and the caption talks about my triathlons and marathons. I'm told that my story of beating cancer and becoming an Ironman inspires people to pursue their dreams. The simple truth is I'm not a hero for having cancer. I was just a 37-year-old man who felt just like that 14-year-old. Cancer messed up my life. My hope was that the drugs would do their job of getting rid of my cancer so I could go back out and live again.
My hero is Dr. Rick Hagemeister, the man who saved my life. His decision to use RCHOP chemotherapy was the reason I'm alive today. It's not because I did anything great. I was lucky. The drugs worked for me. My sister was unlucky because they did not work for her. Does the fact that she died make her less of a hero? Does it mean she wasn't brave or strong or filled with courage? No. It means that the drugs did not work for her. Strength and courage do not save your life. Maybe, if you're lucky, the chemo works. That's why we need more funding for research. Cancer research saves lives. Oncologists, nurses, researchers... they are the heroes. They are the ones who have devoted their lives to the eradication of cancer. But without funding for research, they can't do their job.
That makes everyone in this room tonight a hero too. You have raised thousands of dollars for research and someday more and more people will survive cancer because of you.
Update:
Eleven years after Bill's battles against cancer began, they have heated up again. October 2014 brought the devastating news that he has developed a secondary cancer and must continue the good fight. On behalf of Bill and the many thousands of men, women and children enduring blood cancer, may we continue raising funds for our researchers so that someday soon we can all see the end of blood cancer.
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