Newlywed in November 2007, Dan and Melanie Hedlund, were young and vibrant, eager to begin their lives together. Three weeks after their wedding, future plans came to an abrupt halt, and hopes of happily-ever-after were put on hold.

Dan had been feeling "muscle soreness" in his left leg for a few months, but seemed to be nothing a few ibuprofens couldn't handle. He paid a few visits to the doctor, leaving with no serious diagnosis. The persistent pain eventually prompted his doctor to X-ray Dan's leg. Right away, Dan was advised to cancel all plans for the day, including a final exam. He was immediately scheduled for an MRI scan at the Utah Valley Imaging Center. There was a strong possibility that Dan had a tumor. Most stomachs would twist in knots upon hearing the news, but Dan, positive in nature, thought the doctors could operate, remove the tumor, and it would be an "inconvenience at the most."

In the waiting room of the imaging center, Melanie, with a stack of wedding cards in her lap, nonchalantly addressed thank you note after thank you note. Meanwhile, the technician sent Dan's tests to his doctor and was told to wait there for a phone call confirming the results. Dan intuitively sensed something wasn't right.

"They don't request urgent results if it's good news," he said.

Minutes passed like hours. Finally the phone rang. Dan didn't need words to tell Melanie the news neither were prepared to hear. His expression said it all. Immediate panic shocked through Melanie's body as she saw tears brimming in Dan's hollow eyes. Something was very wrong.

"I have bone cancer," he said. The words were all too foreign and strained. Melanie numbly collapsed in his arms, and for a moment their world stood still.

"It was . . . it was . . . unreal," Dan recalled. "I'd been married only three weeks, assumed a new role as a husband, provider, and care-taker. In a way, I felt like I'd let her down, like I wasn't protecting her."

Osteosarcoma, Dan's diagnosis, is generally known as a pediatric cancer most commonly found in boys ranging from ages 14-17. Dan has no cancer history in his family nor had he ever been close to anyone with cancer. Dan said the unknown was terrifying.

"All you know is cancer kills people," Melanie added. "I couldn't feel my hands or feet. It was like a movie."

Gaining back composure after the initial shock, Dan's light-hearted nature shed humor on the devastating news.

"Well, I guess this is a great way to jump start my motivational speaking career," he joked.

There is nothing funny about being diagnosed with cancer, but keeping a sense of humor became a huge source of comfort and a way to cope for the Hedlunds.

Dan named his softball sized tumor Arnold. They kept a list on the fridge of humorous or absurd things people would say to Dan about his cancer. Two that topped their list came from Dan's 6-year-old niece after her mom tried to explain Uncle Dan's bone cancer.

She asked, "Why doesn't Uncle Dan just drink more milk?"

The other was from a professor when Dan told him he wouldn't be able to take his final exam at the arranged time because of upcoming chemotherapy treatments.

The professor responded, "Well, the effects of the chemo shouldn't set in for a couple of weeks...you can't just roll over and die."

Amused at the blatant irony, Dan said he thought to himself, well actually, Brother X, lots of people do."

Dan's ability to find humor in difficult, and what might have been offensive, situations shed light on many dark moments. Melanie agreed that Dan's humor has brought comfort to both of them amidst the stresses and heartaches of the cancer. Dan's fervent belief of mental health having a huge impact on physical health was demonstrated by his admirable attitude and outlook on life in the face of adversity.

Many cancer patients and their families often face seemingly insurmountable barriers because of financial burdens. Doctors told the Hedlunds treatment for this type of cancer would cost anywhere from $500,000 to $800,000. Even with BYU insurance, their coverage maxed out at $140,000, still leaving them paying a premium of $28,000 plus the hundreds of thousands not covered. Overwhelmed, the Hedlunds turned to Medicaid.

"Financially, we have been ridiculously blessed," Dan said. In addition to receiving Medicaid, two of his closest friends headed up a benefit concert in March 2008 in Dan's honor. "I'll start crying if I talk about it," Melanie said. "The amount they raised was incredible."

Though Dan didn't feel well enough to last through all the bands, he loved every second he was able to spend at the concert. Listening to music was a big part of his life, especially on days when reading or watching TV made him nauseous. He burned a mix for family and friends entitled "Keep Ya' Head Up". A few favorites on the list included: "Feeling Good" by Michael Buble, "Heart of a Champion" by Nelly, "Stand" by Rascal Flatts, "Bigger Than My Body" by John Mayer, and he said, laughingly, the song that really pumped him up was "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays" by *NSYNC.

After months of chemo, major surgery on his leg, and more chemo, Dan was told the cancer had spread to his lung. Dan had previously been quoted a 70 percent survival rate, but when the cancer spread to his lungs he dropped into the 30-50 percentile. Neither Dan nor Melanie ever worried about survival.

"Even if it's a ten percent survival chance, someone has got to be that ten percent," Dan said. "Why not me?"

On bad days Melanie would often read to Dan from Lance Armstrong's autobiography, a comforting source they could relate to and rekindled their hope.

On Nov. 7, Dan will undergo yet another surgery, this time on his right lung. Dan said following lung surgery, the pain lasts for months.

"I would rather go through seven more leg surgeries, okay six, than do one lung surgery," he said.

Although cancer put their lives on hold, both Dan and Melanie agree they are closer than ever before.

"It seems so clich? to say having gone through this together has strengthened our relationship," Melanie said. "It just seemed so unimportant to fight about the toothpaste cap or a wet towel on the floor when we were dealing with life or death."

With a 13 inch scar down his thigh, and one more surgery to go, the Hedlunds' once heavy hearts are now filled with hope. Dan will go through another set of scans on December 13, the one-year anniversary of when he first heard he had cancer. The Hedlunds hope the new scans will mark this year's December 13th as a "good memory."

Dan will appear in a segment honoring Jon Huntsman, Sr. on the Glenn Beck Show on CNN, airing Thanksgiving Day.



Copyright Brigham Young University 5 Nov 2008