Giving those with limited time a gift of memories
(CBS News) The most precious gift is something that won't fit under a Christmas tree: It's the gift of caring, comfort, compassion and above all, the gift of time. Seth Doane reports our Cover Story:
Any vacation is a fleeting break from routine, a chance to relax and make memories.
But for the Curtis family, visiting this 3,000-acre dude ranch in southern Arizona, their time together seemed more precious than ever.
When asked what it was like for her to get out of the routine she was in at home, Teresa replied, "Very nice. Undescribable."
For four days earlier this month, the Curtises left reality behind back in Woodburn, Ky. - where Teresa Curtis said, "You always think you have a lot of time. You always think you will do something later."
At least until 18 months ago. That's when Teresa, mother to Sally and Levi, and wife to high school sweetheart Jeff, received a terminal diagnosis.
"I have stage-four breast cancer that has metastasized to the bones. The biggest thing is my spine . . . there is at least one lesion in every vertebrae," she said.
Chemo was devastating. She has her hair back now, which at least makes her look healthy. But cancer is always a part of their lives.
"It's always there. And I know it's always on the kids' minds. It's always on Jeff's mind," she said. "But it never goes away. It's like the big elephant in the room. But at least we talk about it."
Teresa's doctor, Vanderbilt Medical Center oncologist Vandana Abramson understands that families like the Curtises face more than just medical problems.
"The hardest part of all of it is that they have to be preparing for life without one parent in the future," she said. "So there's a lot going on with these families. A lot that's outside the realm of what most normal families have to deal with. There's a lot of anxiety for the entire family."
So along with the morphine and hydrocodone, Dr. Abramson called for something you can't find in any pharmacy.
"I prescribed this trip for Teresa because I thought she and her family needed a chance to get away. Needed a chance to be together - not think about her cancer diagnosis, not think about anything else. I think they needed something special."
Which is where the Jack & Jill Late Stage Cancer Foundation comes in.
"We call it a time out from cancer, because that's exactly what it is," said Jon Albert, the foundation's founder.
"A time away, a distraction?" said Doane.
"And an opportunity to take live. To live life."
Albert's non-profit raises money to send families like the Curtises on an all-expense-paid vacation.
Who qualifies for a trip like this? "The parameters are pretty straightforward and pretty simple," said Albert. "A young mom or dad with limited life, and they have children under 18. That's it. Any cancer. Any economic group, socioeconomic group These are families who are facing the imminent loss of their mom or dad."
Jon Albert knows this kind of loss all too well. He created the foundation in 2006 with his wife Jill as she was dying from metastatic breast cancer.
"The cruelest aspect of late-stage cancer is the emotion," said Jon Albert. "And Jill was afraid that our kids would forget her. I mean, they were seven and nine when she was diagnosed. That's why I started the foundation. To give other young moms and dads the comfort, the relief, the joy to know that they can give back the gift of memories to their children."
The foundation works with oncologists and doctors to identify families to go on these trips. It relies on contributions from the public, along with in-kind donations from airlines, hotel chains and cruise lines, to host families struggling with end-stage cancer.
The foundation does it all with a full-time staff of three.
Doane asked, "How is this not just the saddest job in the world?"
"It really is absolutely the opposite," said Albert. "I get to deal with laughter and smiles and unbelievable joy every day."
Families typically choose between a few vacation options. The Curtises opted for a stay at the White Stallion Ranch, just outside Tucson.
It's the furthest west 10-year-old Sally has ever traveled - a world away from the stresses at home.
"What does this do to a family to have a diagnosis like this? For it to be as serious as it is?" Doane asked Saly.
"It really brings things down, kind of," she replied. "Like, you're always thinking about something. Something happening. Stuff like that. But now we really aren't thinking about anything!" she laughed.
"What do you mean?"
"We aren't thinking about the cancer at all. We're just thinking about having fun. What are we gonna do next? Are we gonna ride horses? All that."
They rode as often as they could. Teresa watched as her family learned to herd cattle - sad but also serene.
Asked to describe a moment, even fleeting, in which she forgot everything and was just having a good time with her family, Teresa said, "It's a calmness. I mean, if I can describe it, it's where you just take a deep breath and just relax, and just don't really think about anything at all."
The Jack and Jill Late Stage Cancer Foundation aims not just to provide that elusive break, but also a trip so memorable they call it a "Wow."
Bill Francis' wife Sondra is living with brain cancer. "Two years ago, we thought we had 20, 30, 40 years together. Now, we don't know," he said.
So on their vacation to Denver, the foundation gave this Iowa family of sports fanatics VIP treatment at a Broncos game, complete with a meet-and-greet with NFL star Dallas Clark, and the run of a Westin hotel suite that the Obama family called home during the 2008 Democratic convention.
"We're special - people are taking care of us and they're helping us. You can't even explain how fun this is," Francis said. "You know, we're going to enjoy this weekend, but we're taking this weekend with us, you know, forever."
An escape captured forever, in photographs - just some of the thousands filling the photo albums of more than 600 families, and counting.
Elizabeth Giordano and her daughters look back at those photos all the time. Her husband Todd died last year at 42.
"What do you think the trip meant to Todd?" Doane asked.
"Oh, everything. Everything," Giordano replied.
Todd lived for just six months after his diagnosis. And Elizabeth says a vacation then seemed hard to justify. But at Sesame Place in Philadelphia, all seemed just right.
"The girls enjoyed it. We enjoyed it as a family. And that was the last time we were a family on a trip, because we literally flew home, and two hours after we landed, I was taking Todd to the hospital, and he didn't come home."
At the White Stallion Ranch, Jeff Curtis tried not to think about why the family was there.
"Does this trip really make a difference? It doesn't change anything," said Doane.
"Yes, it does," Jeff said. "If just for 10 minutes they forget about Mom being sick, it's worth it."
They posed before a rainbow that appeared in the Arizona sky, and for all the comfort it provided, Teresa felt something else, too: "The word 'grateful' keeps coming to my mind,'" she said.
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