So what's this Fisher House thing?

By Lisa Price Waltman

So, why would a chick from Colorado, who doesn’t even have her bike yet, be involved with The Honor Run? It’s two-fold and quite simple: 1) The love for riding (and of course, the people), 2) The Fisher House.

As the daughter of a WWII POW of the Japanese, the (former) daughter-in-law of a six and a half year “guest” of the Vietnamese at the Hanoi Hilton, the sister of two enlisted Navy men and the (former) wife of an Air Force General officer, the military is in my blood, even though it’s not a part of my daily life.

But in 1996, it was what my family lived and breathed. Stationed for a second time at the Pentagon, my family was in shock when the call came from my father-in-law, a retired Colonel, USAF, living in London. “Inoperable lung cancer” were the words I heard through the phone from across The Pond. Arriving at Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland, just outside of D.C., new, unproven medical protocols were available to him through the National Institute of Health. Giving up and failing were not a part of his vocabulary, so ‘Pappa-Dad’ was once again about to prove what courage was all about.

With hope and prayer in our tool belt, we began to build the ramp that took us through the emotional roller coaster which often epitomizes medical procedures. Thankfully he re-wrote the medical journals by defying the odds and was eventually released on an out-patient basis to undergo chemotherapy.

We rearranged our home and our lives so that Pappa-Dad could recover in our home environment instead of staying in a hotel during what was certain to be a rough time. What we didn’t plan for was his tremendous pride that would not permit him to stay in our home and “inconvenience” our lives. This was a man who mastered the tapping code of his shared cell wall, a man who didn’t mind meat that had slightly turned as he never forgot the time when he had none. A man that endured endless beatings (especially after a certain female celebrity had departed Vietnam) at the hands of his captures and would never fold but whose heart would melt upon holding his grandson.

Enter in The Fisher House at Andrews AFB, MD. I had worked at the Pentagon for years, had been a military spouse for nearly two decades and had never heard of The Fisher House. I know there is an official description for what The Fisher House is and what the Fisher Foundation stands for but in my words it’s a few simple words: “comfort, hope, home.” Pappa-Dad and my mother-in-law, Marian, moved into The Fisher House where they had the privacy of their own spacious room and bathroom suite and yet where we, as a family could sit in the comfort of a beautifully decorated commonly shared living room and watch one the many movies or play one the video games or multitudes of board games provided, or gather in the huge kitchen and cook as a family – for our family and often get to know the other families in similar situations. Siblings visited from Europe and throughout the United States and because of The Fisher House, we were able to spend time together as a family. Evenings were often spent sitting outdoors where the variety of Little Tikes toys, swing set, sandbox, etc, provided for hours of entertainment for my 5 and 7 year-old sons and unlimited enjoyment and memories for this beautiful, untiring man they called Pappa-Dad.

Without The Fisher House each of our lives would have been tremendously different. Veterans become ill and soldiers become injured, this is a constant. But when hope and pride are gone, so is the “piss and vinegar” that keeps them going and makes them get up every day and try it again. Pappa-Dad never gave up and I’d like to think that his amazing recovery was in part, due to the comfortable environment which surrounded him and allowed him to have a normal life with his family and those around him who didn’t make him feel odd. Without The Fisher House our time would have been spent in loud restaurants and inexpensive hotels where life is just tolerated, not fully lived.

Pappa-Dad died years later after returning to London. The “inoperable lung cancer” had been completely eradicated from his body. Tuberculosis was the official cause of death for Pappa-Dad; a disease which they believe, lay dormant for years; a disease he contracted while a prisoner of war.

So while this Colorado chick may just be a passenger on this incredible ride called “The Honor Run”, I want to do whatever I can to help others see what I saw while sitting in the front seat of this amazing ride called “Life” and help those who like Pappa-Dad, never quit.

For more information on The Fisher House Foundation visit: www.fisherhouse.org/aboutUs

For more information on the Colorado Springs group to support The Honor Run contact Lisa Price Waltman at: lisa@mollyhubbardscupboard.com