![]() | ![]() Our Goal: To raise $1,000,000 for research and public education about prostate cancer. | ![]() |
|
John Loesing, Project Director Dr. Terry Weyman, Founder |
PROSTATE CANCER CLIMB
'Miracle rescue' on Kilimanjaro The Tanzanian guides who lead climbers through the five climate zones and up the hellish slopes of Africa's Mount Kilimanjaro have a wonderful way of pulling their clients out of their misery: They sing to them when the going gets tough. The songs in Swahili usually begin in the dark hours before dawn as climbers on the ascent struggle to stay alert, their minds numbed by the cold, and their bodies, aching from the toll of the previous days and miles, too tired to take another step. "Pole-pole," one guide hums out loud. "Go slowly." "Kilimanjaro akuna matata," says another. "Kilimanjaro, no problem." Despite the encouragement of the guides and careful attention to acclimatization, the 5,896-metre trek to the summit during last month's fundraising Prostate Cancer Climb took its toll. Being in top shape is no guarantee of avoiding the dangers of altitude sickness. For Toronto chiropractor Gordon Lawson, one of two dozen men and women in this year's climb, Kilimanjaro was not just a problem, it almost killed him. Lawson, 53, an accomplished marathoner whose parents died at an early age from cancer, owes his life to a complete stranger who appeared from nowhere. Descending from the summit, and at 4,400 metres, the Canadian fitness enthusiast was experiencing chest pains and increasingly laboured breathing with each step but was determined to "work through it" as if it were a training run. Admittedly not thinking clearly, Lawson tried to "grind it out." Fellow climbers Bruce Hestad and Randy Spevak insisted that Lawson stop and seek medical help. They asked passing Japanese and Swiss groups if they had any medical knowledge. No luck. Then a German cardiologist, who broke off his own summit attempt and had turned around because he wasn't feeling well, happened upon the group. He diagnosed Lawson as being in the late stages of pulmonary edema (the lungs fill up with fluid as a result of the body adapting to high elevation) stating that if Lawson didn't take a cortisone injection and pills the doctor offered he'd be dead within 30 minutes. "It was a miracle," recalls Lawson. "He was a guardian angel that came and went into thin air." Ironically, the cancer survivors fared better than their counterparts in this year's Prostate Cancer Climb, a cancer fundraising and awareness movement established by Los Angeles sports chiropractor Terry Weyman, whose father died from the disease. Lawson's colleague Hestad was the first cancer veteran to reach the summit, Uhuru Peak, the closest point to the sun on Earth since the mountain lies practically on the equator. The 56-year-old prostate cancer survivor from South Dakota, despite recent cancer surgery and the weakening effects of hormone therapy, used the mountain as a metaphor for his own health struggles to help him reach the summit. "When you are at your weakest moment and want to quit, you cannot," Hestad said. "We learn to pull from within when faced with difficult situations and that's what cancer survivors did to get to the top." Another climber with prostate cancer, Ken Malik, says, "Reaching the summit of Kilimanjaro exemplifies that cancer needn't be a death sentence. One can live a rich life and even tall mountains are within reach." Gordon Lawson raised more than $8,000, one of the leading fundraisers among the group of this year's climbers. Randy Williams, of Santa Monica, reached the summit, raising $5,000 with his effort.
|
|