Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Pages: The amazing story of Terry Fox
By John Pages
Match Point
A marathon runs 42.2 kilometers That’s the distance from Capitol to Carcar. I’ve never run a marathon; in fact, the longest I’ve trekked is 5 kms on top of a conveyor belt named the treadmill.
Imagine yourself running 42.2km. Imagine doing the same thing the following day, another 42km. Add another 42 the next day. And the day after that… for 143 consecutive days.
Imagine one more: You only have one leg.
That’s Terry Fox.
The story of Terrance Stanley Fox began in July 1958 when he was born the second child to Rolly and Betty Fox. Like most typical Canadian families, he grew up in a close-knit, hardworking, competitive family.
His favorite sport in eighth grade was basketball. But Terry was short. Sorry, his P.E. teacher Bob told him, you can’t make the team. But the word “quit” never existed in Terry’s vocabulary. He worked hard. He made the squad. By Grade 10, he was the Athlete of the Year; in his first year at Simon Fraser University, he made the junior varsity basketball team.
Terry Fox was robust, handsome and 18-years -old. He owned two legs.
One day, he felt a knee pain. Nah! It’s a sports injury, he thought. It wasn’t. It was a rare bone cancer called osteogenic sarcoma.
AMPUTEE. The doctors had to do the worst: They amputated his right leg six inches above the knee. The night before, his basketball coach turned to him carrying the story of a one-legged man who ran the Boston Marathon. Lying in the hospital bed that evening, he dreamt—with eyes wide open.
In the clinic, he heard cries of pain from fellow patients. He listened to doctors giving them a 15 percent survival chance. He underwent 16 months of chemotherapy. He lost his thick, curly hair. His leg, flesh and bones, turned fiberglass and steel.
When Terry left the clinic, he emerged more than just a cancer survivor. He hated the time he spent in the hospital. So he stood up, raised one leg up, one leg down. He walked. His determination had him out playing golf only six weeks after the operation. Later, his favorite sport returned to his life when he was invited to play wheelchair basketball.
But Terry never forgot his experience. He was angry at how little money was spent on cancer research. He turned his anger into a mission: to run across Canada to raise both awareness and money in his fight against an evil fox, the Big C.
He ran. Despite the stump on his leg bleeding, he ran. Despite his mother crying at the sight of his son’s suffering, he ran. “I remember promising myself should I live,” said Terry, “I would rise up to meet this new challenge face to face, and prove myself worthy of life, something too many people take for granted.”
HOPE. On April 12, 1980, he began his “Marathon of Hope.” He dipped his artificial foot into the Atlantic Ocean and aimed to cross Canada and dip it again in the Pacific Ocean. Everyday, no matter the weather—freezing rain, high winds, even snow—he ran 42kms. Canada fell in love with Terry Fox. He trekked through parks, mingled with parents around picnic tables, toured schools where he’d remove his leg and show the kids how it worked. Thousands flooded the highways including the then-Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau.
Then tragedy struck a second time. On Sept. 1, 1980, he felt a chest pain so severe it came with news that was even more severe: the cancer had recurred, now in his lungs. He fought. “No one is ever going to call me a quitter!” he said. But in the end, after 10 more months, Terry passed away on June 28, 1981, one month shy of his 23rd birthday.
“Canada plunged into mourning,” wrote Leslie Scrivener in The Toronto Star.
“Flags flew at half-mast, condolences came from around the world, and Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau personally paid him tribute in the House of Commons.”
End of story?
No. The beginning.
Terry Fox’s run raised $1.7 million. After his heroic passing, $24.17 million had been raised in his name—a dollar for every Canadian.
Last Saturday, I joined the Terry Fox Run.
No, it wasn’t in Canada, but in this Queen City of the South.
SUNNY SMILE. The day before, there was a scare: the rain poured, the wind blew and the black clouds swirled. But when I arrived at the Capitol at 6 a.m. on the day of the run, I was greeted by the sun that shone as bright as Terry’s smile.
Over 2,000 people wore smiles. The Canadian Ambassador, Peter Sutherland, and his wife Jo-Lynn smiled. Vice Mayor Mike Rama arrived in white jogging pants and wowed the crowd saying, “Let’s not talk… but walk!” Canadian Honorary Consul Robert Lee and his wife Anna together with this city’s top dentist, Dr. Nonito Narvasa, the Canadian Consular Warden, smiled.
Terry Fox smiled from above.
This year, like our Sinulog, is the 25th anniversary of the Terry Fox Run. Over $360 million has been raised. There’s an HBO movie called “The Terry Fox Story.” Rod Stewart sang a tribute entitled “Never Give Up On A Dream.” In public opinion polls, Terry Fox was voted the most famous Canadian of the 20th century. Why?
Terry lost one leg. He gained millions of admirers and dollars in return, all because of one thing.
His brave heart.
(john@playhouse.edu.ph)
(October 11, 2005 issue)
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