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June 16, 2007 - Story on front page of the Newberg Graphic.
Work softens sorrow
A group of family and friends restore Jeremy Burrows' prized Volkswagen in his memory and will drive it in the Old Fashioned Festival parade
By Amanda Newman, Newberg Graphic reporter
E-mail Amanda at anewman@eaglenewspapers.com On July 29, 2006, while watching the Old Fashioned Festival parade wind through the streets of Newberg, a mother made a promise to her son: his family and friends would finish restoring his Volkswagen Beetle and drive it in the parade the following year in his honor.
One week later, Jeremy "JB" Burrows died.
Since January, JB’s family and friends have been working on the pale yellow 1970 Bug. As the car nears completion the group is preparing to enter the car in next month’s parade. Lori Burrows’ promise to her son will be fulfilled.
JB, who his mother describes as a "kind, loving and funny young man," graduated from Newberg High School in 2003. He volunteered with the middle and high school youth groups at Newberg’s First Baptist Church (now Grace Baptist). He enjoyed wake boarding, dirt biking, snow boarding, Frisbee golfing and playing baseball.
He was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s T Cell Lymphoma in October. After months of chemotherapy and radiation, he went into remission, but relapsed in April 2006. Unable to find a compatible match for a bone marrow transplant, JB died on Aug. 5, 2006, two hours after marrying his childhood sweetheart, Emily Cook.
He was two weeks shy of his 21st birthday.
JB bought the Bug for $350 from his friend Scott Smits’ father, Steve Smits of S & D Automotive, when he was 16. After driving it for some time and being rear-ended, he decided to restore the car, Lori Burrows said.
Trading odd jobs and yard work for friend Brian Seldon’s help, JB began working on the car shortly before his diagnosis. He replaced the headliner and window seals with the help of Scott Smits, and Seldon painted the car.
Since his death, friends and family have come together to work on what Lori Burrows calls "a true love bug." Steve Smits located parts and donated labor; Mike Doran of Doran Automotive loaned the use of his shop for the undercoating, and Chuck and Kevin Cook did all the undercoating work, as well as some paint and body work on the custom tail lights and several small parts.
For the past six months the car has been kept at Scott Smits’ house, where the team of "helpers" has met about once a month to work on the car. Carpet, upholstery, door panels, dashboard — everything has been replaced, repainted or refinished. Lori Burrows ordered custom license plates for the car, dubbed "JBS BUG."
People who have worked on the car include the Smits, Seldon, the Cooks, Kylie Vanbergen, Kris Blanchard, Chanelle Palmore, Paul Brubaker, Logan Borg, Amber Fuller, Bekah Rasmussen and Pat and Lori Burrows. Burrows said Scott Smits was responsible for the "biggest part of the restoration," saying, "Scott has made sure everything is perfect on this bug. He will never ever know how much it means to me."
"My life has been changed forever and I feel as if I have lost a limb somehow," Burrows said of the pain of losing a child. "(But) I have been so pleased with all the kids and adults and family members who have come forward and put many, many long hours into this. It has been therapy for all of us, I think. It brings us together and brings a smile to my face each time I see all the love and hard work going into JB’s Bug."
The car will appear in the Old Fashioned Festival parade July 28, driven alternatively by Scott Smits, the Burrows’ and JB’s brother Nick and accompanied on foot by friends and family. Individual roses will be placed on the bug by friends and family, then taken to JB’s grave in the Garden of Memories at Newberg’s Valley View Memorial Park.
A short life, a longtime love
Jeremy Burrows, always an athlete, found himself
Sunday, August 27, 2006
AMY MARTINEZ STARKE J eremy Burrows was up for trying just about any extreme sport: wakeboarding, dirt biking, disc golf, snowboarding and ski blading. He had just taken up motocross and dreamed of skydiving.
Jeremy bounced from one activity to the next starting at age 3, when he rode a bike without training wheels. At 5, he started T-ball, then moved on to Little League (and decided to go by "JB" instead of Jeremy).
Even after his cancer diagnosis in 2004, he did chemo in the morning and wakeboarded in the afternoon off Rogers Landing in Newberg. Many of his activities were centered around his church in Newberg or around his girlfriend, Emily Cook. They planned to marry after he was cured.
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To pay for his sports activities, JB, son of a single mom, worked. When he got his first job at Papa Murphy's, he bought a dirt bike. He had just started Ecola Bible School in Cannon Beach when he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's T-cell lymphoma.
And suddenly, it seemed, he was struggling to have a life at all.
Doctors eventually said there was nothing more they could do, but there was something JB could do -- marry Emily.
He was 11 when he met and fell in love with Emily, while both were in Newberg's First Baptist Church youth group called "The Rage." They started hanging out while at Newberg High School, when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore. He cried when she told him she didn't want to go beyond friendship, for fear it would ruin everything.
He graduated in 2003. He worked on restoring his 1970 VW Bug, he worked for Coca Cola, Extreme Cycle in Newberg, and later Safari Sam's in Sherwood. He became part of an inseparable foursome of friends who called themselves "Three-Thirds and a Wing Man."
He became a popular member of the youth ministry staff at his church, a magnet for the junior high boys, and some of the junior high girls had crushes on him.
He genuinely liked kids -- watching them grow and developing their faiths, playing poker or video games, sliding down the church stairs on a piece of cardboard.
Many thought he would be a good youth pastor. JB also thought about becoming a welder or an electrician; he was going to Ecola Bible School to sort it all out.
But his shoulder and arms were hurting, and he couldn't breathe well. It got worse, and the day he started school, the pain got so bad he had to go to the hospital. When he was diagnosed with a malignant tumor Oct. 14, 2004, the words of his favorite song, "Blessed be the Name of the Lord" with its refrain "You give and take away," went through his head.
When Emily discovered she might lose him, she realized she loved him.
Their first real date: to Portland for dinner at a Chinese restaurant, Nov. 5, 2004. They weren't apart much after that. As with any couple, they had their ups and downs. He was bummed out about the cancer, no question, although he seldom voiced it. He was more bummed out if he and Emily had a spat.
Date someone else? "That'll never happen," he said.
In 2005, his grandparents took him and Emily to Australia and New Zealand. On the one-year anniversary of their first date, they went tandem bungee jumping together. They went whitewater rafting, walked across the Harbor Bridge in Sydney, snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef and held koalas.
That trip was all he talked about for three months.
In fact, it was almost like a honeymoon, without the intimacy. That could wait, they decided, for their white wedding.
There were fundraisers and donations, and people in Newberg and far beyond prayed for him.
But the cancer was aggressive.
On July 27, JB asked Emily's father for permission to take her hand in marriage, then got down on one knee to ask Emily to marry him. They set a date of Aug. 12. It became a race against the killer.
Then came several big days.
On July 29, the engaged couple went to a festival in Newberg, a parade, watched fireworks.
On July 30, he announced their engagement at church and went out to buy their rings.
"I'm going to have that ring on my finger," he said determinedly.
On July 31, he was fitted with his tux and met with a group at a Newberg restaurant to help plan his wedding.
Aug. 1, the downhill slide steepened.
Relatives offered to hold the wedding at their house, but he wanted to be wed in front of all of his family and friends, to have them be part of something he wanted so much.
"I have to be feeling well enough for it," he said, "My life is not complete without my Emily."
On Aug. 2, the date was moved up a week, to Aug. 5.
On Aug. 4, he said, "We're getting married tomorrow."
Just after midnight, on Aug. 5, it was apparent his lungs were giving up.
"We're getting married today," he insisted.
On Aug. 5, several of his doctors and nurses predicted he had only a few hours to live.
Many in the congregation for the 1 p.m. wedding were shocked at how quickly the cancer had progressed. A week earlier he stood in church; but now JB was seated, struggling to breathe. But he sat upright through the ceremony and he applauded with everyone else when they were pronounced husband and wife.
Some said it was the power of love. Some said the grace of God. Some thought it was adrenaline. All knew it was determination.
At 1:40 he was taken home.
Emily stayed in her wedding dress and sat on the bed next to him, and those closest to him heard him say: "I got married today."
Jeremy Burrows died at 3:40 p.m. Aug. 5, 2006. He would have turned 21 on Aug. 21.
Amy Martinez Starke: 503-221-8534; amystarke@news.oregonian.com
June 2006 Portland Tribune article
http://www.portlandtribune.com/archview.cgi?id=36017
Laser light plays across JB Burrows’ face as he undergoes treatment for an aggressive cancer at Oregon Health & Science University. So far, doctors have had no luck finding a match for a bone marrow transplant, Burrows’ last hope.
Last chance for a match
Bone-marrow donors slower to step forward because of testing fees
 By JENNIFER ANDERSON Issue date: Fri, Jun 30, 2006
The Tribune
Last Friday, Lori Burrows was told her son might have three months to live. Doctors said that after months of searching the registry of 5 million bone marrow donors worldwide, they found no suitable match for Jeremy’s type of aggressive cancer because of his rare DNA type.
“We were all quite upset for several days about that,” said Burrows, a perennially optimistic woman who works as a saleswoman for the Greenlight Classifieds for Pamplin Media Group, which owns the Portland Tribune. “You just take the good days and try not to dwell on the bad.”
Since her 20-year-old son, who uses the nickname “JB,” was diagnosed in October 2004 with an aggressive cancer of the blood called non-Hodgkins T-cell lymphoma, she’s been on a crusade. She’s kept a long-running blog with frequent updates on JB’s condition and organized community garage sales and other fundraisers to help pay for the family’s expenses not covered by insurance.
With several months’ extensive chemotherapy and radiation, JB’s tumor went away. Then it reappeared in April 2005; now it is in its final stage. Doctors say the only hope for survival is a bone marrow transplant.
Burrows’ main goal now is to spread awareness of the need for bone marrow donors. The more she investigated the process, the more upset she was to discover that there is a fee for potential donors, which might deter many from participating, she said.
It costs $52 to join the registry of the National Marrow Donor Program database, which covers the cost of testing a person’s tissue type through blood or a sample of cheek cells. Minorities, however, can register for free because there is such a short supply of their marrow in the worldwide registry.
The American Red Cross’ human leukocyte antigen lab in Portland charges potential donors $85 to determine if they are a match for a family member in need, and hundreds of dollars more for additional testing if the initial screening results in a match.
“I feel there would be more donors if the cost were not so high,” said Burrows, who lives in Newberg with her son. “A lot of people I know have big hearts and want to help, but can’t afford to.”
Patient advocates feel the same. “It’s very difficult to find matches through the National Marrow Donor Program database,” said Sue Sumpter, patient services manager for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in Oregon. “There’s a one-in-four chance to find a donor from a sibling. … We do absolutely need more people to sign up to be marrow donors. One way would be to find additional funding so the fees would be covered.”
Burrows’ insurance already had paid $150 to test her other son, 22-year-old Nick, to see if his bone marrow matched JB’s. It didn’t. Doctors said JB’s DNA type is so rare, it wasn’t worth testing any other family members or even holding a bone marrow drive in the community — that the best hope was to look internationally.
With no matches so far, doctors will continue to search for one but in the meantime will perform a transplant using JB’s own healthy bone marrow by collecting his stem cells, freezing them, storing them and then transplanting them back to him after he gets high doses of chemotherapy and radiation to destroy as much of the tumor as possible.
“He’s got a really difficult cancer to treat,” said Dr. Suman Malempati, JB’s doctor at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital. “We think this gives him a reasonable chance. But it’s a chance. It’s not an absolute treatment.”
Malempati said JB’s prognosis for after the transplant is uncertain. “It’s more likely (the cancer) will come back than it won’t, even with the transplant,” he said. “If it comes back again, I don’t think we’ll be able to cure it. … But for each person, it’s either you will (survive) or you won’t.”
Donating doesn’t hurt
Dr. Eneida Nemecek, the pediatric stem cell transplant director at Doernbecher, said the fees probably do discourage people from becoming donors. But studies have shown that the biggest deterrent is actually fear of what they perceive to be a painful process.
The process actually is not scary but simple, she said. Potential donors must be in basic good health, get about two teaspoons of blood drawn to start, and be willing to be placed on a registry and do further testing if a match is needed. In fact the process was so simple that until January 2005, the Red Cross allowed people to donate bone marrow at the same time that they donated blood.
But when new regulations for bone marrow transplants came online, the Red Cross decided to drop that part of its operation and refer people who inquired about donating bone marrow to the National Marrow Donor Program. The Red Cross also decided to refocus its mission on blood donations, rather than bone marrow, cord blood and tissue donations, a spokesman said.
When asked about their fees, both the National Marrow Donor Program and Red Cross said there are ways people can reduce or get around the fees.
Businesses often offer matching grants; families and communities hold fundraisers and bone marrow drives; and there is financial aid available from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
The organization will cover $500 in testing fees for anyone who wants to determine if he or she is a bone marrow match for a family member.
Nemecek said the time-consuming process of testing, or “typing,” a person’s DNA actually is several thousand dollars, using complicated technology and expensive machinery. The $52 cost is actually a reduced fee, she said.
Burrows hadn’t held a community bone marrow drive for her son because doctors thought his DNA was too rare to find locally. Even so, Burrows said, she has started writing letters to local businesses to ask if they can help sponsor other children in need at Doernbecher.
“It’s sad to see all the little kids there,” she said.
There’s still time for sports
On the outside, the only sign of JB’s cancer is his bald head, a result of his chemotherapy. He doesn’t act like he’s sick, either. Besides being more tired than usual, he has none of the symptoms he used to have: headaches, chest pain, difficulty breathing and infections through his entire body.
He’s a big believer in his faith, as a youth leader and member of the Newberg First Baptist Church. When asked about his feelings toward death, he said: “I guess we have to let God be in control of that. He hasn’t let me down so far.”
One of the biggest challenges for JB, during his sickness, has been to lay low when he’s feeling all right but his white blood cell count is low and he’s susceptible to infection. He joked that after the six-hour transplant process, during his month in the hospital and six months of recovery time when he will mostly stay home to avoid infection, he will have to learn some new card games besides spades and hearts.
He is a big fan of extreme sports, hoping to sky-dive sometime and waiting for the day he can get back to skiing, snowboarding and dirt biking.
He did, however, get the OK to go to Queenstown, New Zealand, last fall, where he and his girlfriend went bungee jumping off a bridge over whitewater rapids — one of his lifelong dreams.
He also got his doctor’s OK on Monday — three days before he was set to start the transplant process by getting his stem cells collected — to go wakeboarding on the Willamette River.
“It probably takes more than I have right now, but it doesn’t stop me from trying,” JB said. “There’s always something more you can be doing with it. You learn one trick and go on to another one.”
For information or to help, visit the Burrows’ Web site at www.jbfightscancer.upcsites.com or visit www.marrow.org. |
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