In 2007, I was looking for a new challenge. I’d always been an athlete, but I was feeling out of shape and wanted to do something that mattered. One day, while watching MTV, I saw a commercial for a team that trained people for endurance events while raising money for cancer research. That team was Team In Training with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS), now Blood Cancer United. They had a local team in the San Fernando Valley. Perfect. I signed up for a triathlon.
At first, I didn’t have a personal connection to blood cancer — no “why.” But soon after joining, that changed. We were training in honor of a little boy named Evan, who had leukemia. I began meeting survivors and hearing about all kinds of blood cancers I’d never heard of before. One in particular, multiple myeloma (MM), stuck with me. The name itself sounded intimidating. I remember thinking, “How do people even survive that?”
After completing my first triathlon, I became a mentor, then a coach, helping others find their strength and purpose through training. I loved every minute of it. Eventually, I took some time to do my own races and became a bit of a 5K junkie, but I never forgot the mission.
Then came November 19, 2013. The day my life turned upside down.
That night, I didn’t feel well and asked my wife to stay home from work. Within hours, I became paralyzed from the waist down. We were trapped upstairs. In that moment of fear and uncertainty, my wife became my hero — she wrapped a bedsheet around me, and step by step, slid me down the stairs, praying with each move.
At the hospital, things moved quickly. Tests. Scans. Surgery. Two days later, my wife got the news alone: “Your husband has cancer, multiple myeloma, and he’ll never walk again.”
She walked into my hospital room not with fear, but with strength.
When my oncologist told me the same thing — that my cancer was incurable, and my life expectancy was three to seven years, I told him, “Let’s get started, Doc.”
What followed was 36 rounds of chemotherapy, 10 rounds of radiation, and eventually a stem cell transplant using my own cells. But before that, I had one goal: to walk again, to hold my one-year-old daughter’s hand as she learned to walk, and wrestle with my 3-year-old son.
While in the hospital, I reached for the phone and called LLS, the only organization I knew. Some family members questioned it, “You don’t have leukemia.” But when I went to the website, I saw myeloma listed there. LLS was for all of us.
That phone call changed my life. Through LLS, I received educational materials, joined the First Connection program, and spoke with other myeloma patients who gave me something powerful, hope.
I started moving my toes, then my knees. Eight months later, I took my first step.
On July 21, 2014, I received my stem cell transplant. In November 2015, on Veterans Day, I crossed the finish line at my marathon with Team In Training. That finish line meant more than words; I wasn’t just surviving, I was living.
My wife, along with two of my teammates, Anna and Stephanie, formed Team Jamie, which grew into Team Tour2Cure — a team of 20 to 40 athletes who have raised more than $1 million for blood cancer research.
In 2021, I served as a Visionary of the Year candidate, leading a team that raised $206,000 for LLS in just 10 weeks. In 2019, I returned to coaching locally, and today I’m honored to serve as a National Coach, helping athletes and survivors find strength through sport and community.
Then, earlier this year, I received an email from the organization inviting me to a Zoom call with exciting news. That’s when I learned that The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society was becoming Blood Cancer United.
At first, I was emotional; this wasn’t just a new name. It was a new chapter.
Because United is what got me here.
United is what helped me stand again.
United is what helped me heal, fight, and believe.
For me, United isn’t just a word, it’s who we are.
United means all.
Every type of cancer. Every patient. Every survivor. Every caregiver. Every family. And everyone that we have lost.
It means no one is left out, no one fights alone, and no one’s story is too small to matter.
So, when I hear “Blood Cancer United,” I don’t just hear a name change, I hear a movement. A promise. A community that stands together until every person with cancer has hope, healing, and a cure.
Because we are stronger together.
We are braver together.
We are United, for all and for always.
United as one. United for all. United to cure cancer.
We are Blood Cancer United.
Jamie
Myeloma Survivor
