Last week I was asked to speak at the dinner following the Jim Burns golf outing. The Jim Burns Foundation is a wonderful organization that provides free housing for those going through a stem cell transplant at MD Anderson. Dawn and Jim Burns knew first hand the struggles that come with relocating for medical care. Sadly Jim lost his battle, but his friends and family honor him by helping others in his name. I would like to share with you what I shared with them...............

Hi. My name is Jennifer Mosher. I was diagnosed with cancer six years ago. Last year my cancer came back, metastasized and is now considered incurable. I entered a clinical trial involving a stem cell transplant at MD Anderson in Houston last fall and was fortunate enough to stay in an apartment provided by the Jim Burns Foundation. I have written a few words about my experience:

When I was told that my cancer had metastasized, my whole world stopped at that very moment. Around me, it seemed as though chaos had ensued. Phones were ringing. Questions were being asked. Options were being discussed. Decisions were being made. People were gathering around me. But for some reason, deep inside, I felt alone. Very alone. Everything I thought I once knew to be true, went out the window. My plans abruptly changed. My dreams suddenly shifted. My future was now unsure. What was I supposed to do next? Do I go to work tomorrow? Do I cancel my weekend plans? Do I still go to the dentist next week? And what about treatment? Since my cancer is incurable, will I be on chemo forever? Will I lose my hair again? Forever? Will it make me sick again? Will I be able to work? If I can't work, how will I pay my rent, my bills? The more questions that arose, the more I began to panic. And the more I panicked, the more alone I felt. At least the first time, there was an end in sight to the chemotherapy; to the sickness, and that's what got me through. But now what? I didn't want to be a burden to anyone. And what about all my hopes and dreams for the future? Will they ever come true? Will I ever go on a date again? Will I get married? Have a family? Will anyone ever love me? Or will I be alone? Will I die alone? Will I be scared? Will I be in pain? Will I be ready?

I found hope in a trial at MD Anderson. But I still had nagging questions that worried me. How was I going to be in a trial if my insurance wouldn't pay for it? How could I ever come up with that amount of money? And even if I did, where would I stay? How could I ever afford to stay at a hotel for months on end? How could I ask someone to leave home to be my caregiver and live in a tiny hotel room with me? I was frustrated. I felt like a burden. Again, I felt alone. But I wasn't alone. I had my cousin Steve reaching out on my behalf. I had family and friends surrounding me. Even strangers offering help. Best of all though, I had the good fortune of making a friend 22 years prior, in high school. A sweet, fun, bubbly girl named Dawn, who came to my rescue and offered me a place to stay. Because of her kindness, a huge burden was lifted from my shoulders.

On my way to Houston, with my mom and my sister Colleen in tow, I still had many unanswered questions. And I still carried with me this feeling of loneliness deep inside that I just couldn't shake. I was heading into uncharted territories. Or so it felt. But then I opened the door to a beautiful, spacious apartment and saw a familiar face hanging in a frame on the wall. It was at that very moment, I knew I wasn't 'alone' on this journey. Before me hung a picture of Jim. A picture with his and Dawn's story written beneath it. I was reminded that they also felt the fear of the unknown that cancer brings. They also had traveled far from home in hope of a cure. They too had opened the door to an unfamiliar place; a place they would stay for many months. From that day forward I never felt alone again. Each time I left the apartment to go to the hospital, full of anxiety as to what the day had in store, I would look at Jim's picture on my way out and know that he had done the same many times before me. When I was at the hospital sitting in the stem cell department, I would often wonder if Jim had sat in the same chair. When I would get all those vials of blood drawn, I would wonder if Jim had met the same nurse. And after a long day, when I would walk back in the door, sometimes in pain, sometimes weak and shaking, sometimes nauseous, always exhausted, I would be greeted by Jim's picture and a calm would come over me. For it reminded me that I wasn't alone. So many others had gone through the very same battle. The only difference was that I was fortunate enough to have known Dawn and Jim Burns. Because of their foundation, I was blessed with so much more than just a free apartment to stay. I was given a home for three months. A home with a picture on the wall. A picture of a friend. A friend who bravely walked the same path before me. A friend who paved the way for me. A friend who gave me courage everyday to keep walking no matter how scary it was.

At the bottom of Jim's picture on the wall it says: "You have a beautiful guardian angel watching over you". Not only was Jim watching over me, I believe he was walking with me. And I have no doubt he will walk with the next person the Jim Burns Foundation sponsors.

Thank you.


I'm aware that with the current state of the economy it is hard to give, but please consider making a donation to a foundation that helped me and so many others in our darkest hour. It's at these low points that we all need to stick together and help one another. You can go to my links page or directly to www.jimmyburns33.org.

Love,

Jen