Airman finds stength in dying boy Published May 12, 2006 By Capt. Cesar Orozco 79th Fighter Squadron SHAW AIR FORCE BASE, S.C. -- I’ll be the first to admit, there are days when I awake and do not want to go to work. The reasons or excuses are many; I feel unappreciated, I work 12-14 hour work days, I’m tired, I don’t get paid enough, blah, blah, blah, but I get up and perform because it is my duty, people count on me and I love what I do. I enjoy the people I work with and feel privileged to be part of such a great nation. Sometimes I take this for granted. On one fateful day, however, my perspective changed. I was not going to work to fly the mighty Viper or to attend random meetings. That day I would show a young man, Grant, what it would be like to be a “Fighter Pilot for a day.” My perspective on life changed forever. It was about 9 a.m. on a muggy South Carolina mid-summer day. I stood outside the 79th Fighter Squadron main entrance waiting for my guest to arrive. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but I pondered, “Would the special-ordered little-person flight suit fit? Did I remember to save my power point presentation on the server? What time would I have lunch? I was already kind of hungry, and could we ever really solve world hunger issues if I were in charge?” As I debated these trivialities, I saw them pull up. It was an average white car, but the tiny wide-eyed faces looking out the windows gave me a slight clue that this could be the family. The car drove up next to me and after I confirmed that these were my guests, I pointed them to their “reserved” parking spot designated by a “TIGER DV” sign. Out came the family, Mom and four kids; Mom led the pack, but not for very long. Soon she was over-run by her young ones, and out in front, the smallest of all was Grant. He politely introduced himself, stood there, and looked up at me as if to say “what’s next?” I met his mom and the rest of his family; his two older sisters and older brother. I knew Grant was a sick child, but other than the fact that he was completely bald (a result of chemo therapy), he looked great. He had deep blue eyes fair skin and a firm handshake. For a 5-year-old, I thought he was normal size, but most important to me, I realized his flight suit would fit! I took them into the squadron and showed them around. After a quick introduction to my commander, we moved over to the mass brief room. It was apparent I needed to be funnier or more interesting because Grant was not as impressed with my boss as I thought he would be. I mean seriously, how could a five year old not care about what the “Old Man” had to say? I showed him an F-16 motivational video and he watched with as much interest as any 5-year-old boy. I think I enjoyed it more. I gave him a tour of the flight-line, showed him one of our jets while his mom took pictures. His two sisters constantly sprayed him down with a bottle of water to control his body temperature, but you could never tell that it was bothering him judging from the ear-to-ear smile on his face. I took them to the Shaw Fire Department where two Airmen took time out of their busy day to give us a tour and some hands on experience with their fire-fighting equipment. We got to see them do a practice fire call, work with some of their life saving equipment, and best of all, Grant got to shoot water from an actual fire-truck hose. He did not verbalize it, but by the look on his face I knew he enjoyed that most of all. We took a few final pictures said our goodbyes. I thanked Grant’s Mom for letting me be a part of her child’s life and shook Grant’s hand. He gave me a very firm handshake and a thumbs-up with his left hand. I knew that my “Pilot” would be a sick child, but I did not know how sick. I found out that Grant was diagnosed with Neuroblastoma, a malignant tumor originating in the autonomic nervous system or the adrenal medulla, which occurs mainly in infants and young children. Grant had been undergoing regular chemo treatments along with painful spinal taps and surgery to remove tumors. Not once that day did I hear Grant complain. We probably walked a few miles, and around noon, the oppressive heat had me begging for water, but not Grant. He wanted to see and do more, I really don’t think it mattered what, he just enjoyed the company. Looking back at that day when I think of Grant, a few words come to mind -- Strength of Character: He knew he faced a deadly disease and dealt with some of the most painful treatments imaginable, and still went about his 5-year-old business. Courage: Knowing about his disease, he held his head up and did not sulk. Humility: He knew why his family was at Shaw, but not once did he demand attention. He was more than willing to share the experience with the rest of his family. I wonder, under similar circumstances, would I have conducted myself in such a way? Would you? I now value every day I wake. A few questions I ask myself when I look in the mirror: Do I have the strength of character to deal with the adverse life or work issues that I might have to deal with today? When forced into a corner, will I have the courage to do what is right and come out with my head held high? When all is said and done will I continue to do my best? Will I be humble enough to treat all who cross my path with the same kind of respect as I would treat my mother? You might be just fine, but someone you know or care deeply about might be struggling with these issues. Will you be there to help at home, at work, or when your country needs you? I know the answer is yes for me, how about you? I think Grant would be there if he had the chance. I found out he passed away two m