The Thriver

“Thank you.”

Fred Faircloth shook his head in disbelief. His doctor had just given him a dire diagnosis and he thanked him.  “Idiot,” he muttered to himself. “What a freakin’ idiot.”

Forty-five years old, father of two and married.  He had everything in the world to lose and here he was thanking the man who told him that it was all in jeopardy.

What else would you expect on a Monday?

So he had heard the three words that change your life forever — or if the doctor was right, take it.  “You have cancer.” They had so easily rolled off the doc’s tongue like mercury.  And they hit him like a bowling ball hits pins.

It’s a natural reaction to throw a pity party when served bad news. In fact, it would have been completely forgivable if Fred had thrown a massive pity party, invited friends and had snacks. Cancer diagnoses are that brutal. But he didn’t.  He looked at the doctor again and said, “I am going to beat this.”

The doctor, a poor poker player, had a look of disbelief in his eyes.  “The odds are not particularly in your favor.  But we’ll do what we can.”

“No, doc. We will do what we have to do to succeed.  I’m not ready to check out yet.  I have too much to live for.”

Time had become a precious commodity. He thought of Tim McGraw’s song “Live like you are dying.” So many people may have thought it was a catchy tune. For Fred, it had now become his personal anthem.  And as a sign of his gratefulness, he vowed to never miss a sunrise again.

His wife squeeze his hand.  Her fear was evident and frankly, he didn’t blame her.  They were a team and now the team was threatened.  He smiled at her and said, “We’ll find the right time to tell the kids. Right now, they need us to be outwardly strong.”  A single tear ran down her cheek.

The tumors growing inside him would end up changing everything about him.  The glass became half full.  The sky was now partly sunny.  He needed a quiver of arrows to attack this beast. Optimism was one of his most potent weapon. He thought about H.O.P.E. He would use his humor. He’d use this as an opportunity to serve. He’d take care of his physical well-being. And he’s educate himself about his disease.

Fred Faircloth wasn’t going to be just a cancer survivor. He’d become a cancer thriver.

“I want to start my treatment immediately. Hit me with all you have. Nuke me. Let’s kill some tumors.”

The doctor looked Fred into the eye. He’d see hundreds of patients react to this news and could tell who was going to fold and who had a chance to make it.  If anyone could survive, this man could.

Cancer is brutal and steals the lives of the good and the bad, the fighters and the quitters.  But Fred Faircloth wasn’t just fighting cancer. He was living for something.  He was living for his children. He was living for his community. And he was living for his wife.  “God, you have the final call of when I go. But I’m going to make the most of every second before you do.”

Fred Faircloth was about to fight for his life by living it.  The cancer never knew what hit it.

Fred Faircloth, cancer survivor, died in his sleep at the age of 95. He was surrounded by his children, his grandchildren and a couple of great grandchildren.  He had not only beaten cancer, but had gone on to help other cancer patients beat the disease, too. And when he took his last breath, he felt someone squeeze his hand. As he looked up he saw his wife, whom had passed away ten years ago. She had come to take the Cancer thriver on home.