Her Motivation To Walk 5k? 'A Piece Of Normal'
Tampa Bay Tribune
JOE HENDERSON
Published: Feb 26, 2006
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TAMPA - A darkened world awaited Candice Patterson about six weeks ago as the effects of anesthesia wore off. She lay in her bed at University Community Hospital, most of her head covered by pressure wrapping to protect the results of a nearly eight-hour surgery. She had been through so many operations in her 36 years of life, and she thought she was prepared for this latest battle. But she wasn't. The surgery was necessary to remove multiple facial tumors brought on by Type 2 neurofibromatosis, a rare genetic birth defect that causes tumors to grow on nerves at any place in the body. Only her left eye and lips were untouched by the wrapping, which left her looking a little like a mummy - and that eye was swollen shut. Her right eye was sewn shut after doctors removed a tumor from behind the socket. The blindness would last about a week, but Candice didn't know that at the time. As she gathered her thoughts and began to plan on a way to regain her life, one word kept going around in her head:
Gasparilla.
Gasparilla.
Gasparilla.
She needed a goal. She needed to tell the world yet again that nothing will ever stop her. She needed to let those who have this disease know that the darkness need not imprison them. She would accomplish all that by walking the 5-kilometer distance in the Bank of America Gasparilla Distance Classic. In the days that followed in her recuperation, she walked laps around the fourth floor at UCH to begin her training for the race, guided by her husband, Jason, and any of many friends. Once she got home, and the bandages came off, she walked some more. And there she was on a glorious Saturday morning, the darkness chased by spectacular sunshine and light, waiting near the back of the pack for the start of her race.
"This gives me a piece of normal again," she said. About an hour later, she and her many friends held hands as they crossed the finish line.
Born With It
The kind of neurofibromatosis Candice has affects about one in 40,000 people at birth. There is no cure. As the tumors grow, they weave through nerve endings, and removal often results in nerve damage and muscle loss. No one knows why this happens, or why tumors often grow back after they are removed. Candice has no family history with the disease. The fates simply chose her. Candice's lips were crooked at birth and her eye socket formed incorrectly, but it took doctors almost nine months to diagnose her condition. Her father was 19 when Candice was born, and he couldn't handle it. He tried to keep her in the house so people wouldn't see what she looked like. Her mother, then 17, would have none of that. She sent her husband packing and was determined to raise Candice as normally as possible. But Candice would have to do the rest.
"God has given her a special gift," her husband said. "She has a beautiful soul."
Even a beautiful soul can only take so much, though. Like, the day in the sixth grade when the jerky boy in the seat behind her kept kicking the back of her chair, making smart-aleck cracks and contorting his face like a freak.
Candice took it for a while, but then got up, picked up her chair, and hit the kid with it. She did it again, and again, and again, until finally she was sent to the principal's office. "I beat the hell out of him," she said.
The principal was cool, though.
"Was he staying stuff?" the principal asked.
Candice nodded.
"Go back to class."
Work Up A Sweat
Candice had annual surgeries to remove tumors for more than 20 years, but then they inexplicably went dormant for more than a decade before coming back last fall. Candice knew the drill - she'd need more surgery.
"She was very disappointed," said Alana Richardson, one of her best friends. "We always have some event we're working toward, so she treated this whole process leading up to the surgery as an event. But when she didn't think she'd be able to compete in the race this year, there was post-event depression.
"That's why she chose to walk this."
The bandages and blindness resulted in sensory distortion, so even with an escort Candice had to be careful as she navigated the hospital floor. Even a change as minor as from tile to carpet could trigger a signal in her brain that she was falling down a steep hill. Why'd she do it? Why not just stay back in bed, heal slowly, take it easy?
For the answer, go back to when she was 14.
"I told my mom I couldn't take any more surgeries - that was it," she said. "I didn't win that argument, though, so I got very depressed. I didn't wake up from the surgery for two days, and it was like, wow, my mental state really contributed to this. That's the way some people are. They get suicidal, or they just let this beat them.
"I just decided then that I'd never feel that way again. I was going to meet this head-on."
It took about six minutes from the time the first runners left for Candice - runner No. 7123 - and her group to reach the starting line.
"I don't want this to be a stroll," she announced as her racing chip triggered her official start time. "I want to get something out of this. I want to get a little sweaty."
As they walked down Brorein Street and turned toward Platt, she asked for a couple of Tylenol from a bag her husband was carrying. She hadn't taken the pills before a race like she normally does and the exertion was causing pain all over her face. By the corner of Magnolia and Bayshore, though, she and her friends were clapping to some bass-heavy song thumping from speakers set up by the side of the course. About that time, Mayor Pam Iorio ran by on the other side. It was a big deal last year, when she ran the 5k for the first time, for Candice to beat the mayor's time and Candice ragged her about it when the two met later.
Alana laughed, doing a mock Iorio voice as Mayor Pam ran by.
"You didn't beat me this year, did ya?" Alana said.
Run For A Reason
About 15,000 runners compete in the runs of this weekend, and they all have their reasons and their stories. There are young ones, old ones, heavy ones and waifs. There are fast ones, slow ones, runners, walkers, and people who do a little of both.
Candice Patterson's reason for being here is simple.
"My life is not going to stop because of this disease," she said. "My pursuit is not going to stop. The health I try to maintain has helped me through every aspect of this process. I need a reason to get out of bed, a reason to walk, a reason to push. There are times I feel like I'm walking around on the planet and I'm the only one who is green, but that can't stop you.
"To those who have this disease, staying at home or being sheltered from all the bad things people say, it doesn't help. I've never walked into a public place ever - one day, one hour, one minute - where there wasn't a reaction to me entering the room. Fear, curiosity, what happened to her, disgust from some people. Strangers come up all the time at the grocery store, movie, in the elevator alone, I get questions. But I can use that experience to teach people about this disease, or at least teach them manners."
There were only a few competitors left on the course when Candice grasped her husband's hand and walked with him. The end of the race was in sight, maybe a hundred yards away. Some eyes were moist, but this was not a day for tears. It was a day to celebrate.
Runner No. 7123 crossed the finish line to a smattering of claps and cheers, the darkness conquered by a glorious light shining on a piece of normal for a beautiful soul.
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