Life takes so many odd twists and turns, it’s often hard to see straight. Why do some live, while others die tragically? That’s the age-old question I’m compelled to ponder today as I present a most tragic and personal story I recently stumbled upon, indirectly through Facebook.
Ever since I’ve discovered Zuckerberg’s time sucking social highway, I’ve spent huge chunks of time, I’ll never get back, interfacing with cyber folks I’ve long forgotten. Old high school alums, cobwebbed colleagues from jobs gone-by, fellow Bope enthusiasts (only they know who they are) and many more relics, from an ancient past, have blasted me back through a geek inspired time machine.
For the most part, it’s been really fun reminiscing, that is until I followed an urge to find Annie Scandalios, a Charleston, SC realtor, who happened to be the first friend my husband and I made in that breathtaking, old city where Rhett and Scarlett honeymooned and Pat Conroy’s rose colored stories claimed honored spaces on cramped bookshelves.
“Why do some live while others die tragically?”
Annie sold us our first home on James Island, and introduced us to what became a lively and glamorous social life. We attended black tie events in sprawling mansions and followed her husband Nick’s aspiring rock band, as they performed in local watering holes. Such an exciting couple who had it all: movie star looks, luxurious lifestyles and vibrant, intelligent personalities. They both worked hard too.
Annie was an ex-actress from Los Angeles who gave up on her dream when she realized it wasn’t practical, to become an award winning realtor at Coldwell Banker. Dr. Nick was a successful chiropractor, hired on movie sets, on occasion, I’d been told.
All that was missing was a baby. In 1997, the year my own daughter was born, Annie and Nick built their dream house on a deep water lot, and were finally ready to complete their Rockwellian vision of happiness. Anna was born in June, the following year.
Just a few months after she arrived, Annie discovered a nodule in her breast. A doctor diagnosed it as normal changes, following breast feeding, but was soon proven fatally wrong. Three months later, Annie had stage four breast cancer, an aggressive form that left them all shell-shocked. Nick and Annie spent the next two years traveling across the US for comprehensive treatments and carefully researched a whole-food regimen that she strictly followed.
Nothing worked. Annie’s frustration metastasized along with her cancer, but her fighting spirit never waned. They learned an interesting statistic along the way: 600,000 people were taken by cancer each year. That was equal to six, 747 (Remember that number) commercial airplanes crashing, killing everyone on board, every day of every year.
Coincidentally—or not—Annie battled for exactly 747 days. One day, not long before it was over, on a long, labored breath, she asked Nick to continue her fight to educate and empower others to prevent and eradicate cancer, once and for all. One week later Annie was gone.
And ASCEND – Annie Scandalios Cancer Ends Now Directive – was born, a foundation begun by Nick, still going strong today, that has both educated and empowered countless others to claim victory over cancer.
Nick had done it—he’d honored his wife’s dying wish and had begun something that had taken on a life of its own. And then he was gone.
In 2003, Nick was tragically killed in a car accident. But the foundation continued.
ASCEND = Annie Scandalios Cancer Ends Now Directive (www.ascend.org)
A good friend of theirs, David Stahl, Music Director for the Asheville Symphony Orchestra, grabbed the reins and kept their spirits alive.
A few months ago, in October, David Stahl passed from an aggressive cancer, just one month after his wife passed from…cancer.
Oddly enough, here I am today memorializing them all, when only a couple of years ago, I had stage four cancer, but was cured through an experimental cell treatment program at the NIH.
Funny, isn’t it, how our lives have bisected in this incredulous manner. So, why do some live, while others die tragically? I again ask the universe.
I happen to be of the opinion that those who leave in such a dramatic and premature fashion sacrifice themselves for a higher purpose that cause the rest of us to scratch our heads and wonder about it, excusing, of course, those who are immune to all forms of scratching and wondering.
While I’m certain most will naturally feel pity for Anna, growing up without either parent to physically guide her, I can’t help but wonder what amazing feats this beautiful little girl may be poised to accomplish in their honor.