I go there, from time to time--quite often, as a matter of fact --to just sit, silently, and think what a lucky fellow I am. It is quiet there, in that little park, even though it's only a few blocks from Kansas City's bustling Country Club Plaza. It's a very special place, to me, because it's dedicated to me and today's other survivors of cancer.

Upon some occasions, there are no others there. I find myself alone. Yet I am aware, always, of ghosts -- the spirits of those many Americans not so lucky as I have been. Such ghosts as those of my mother, a sister, aunts, uncles, dear friends from throughout this country. And abroad, also.

The ghosts speak at times, I imagine. Some berate themselves, harshly, for not informing a doctor of early warning signs of cancer's symptoms. Others lament their reluctance to pursue aggressive treatment. Some express resentment that they were attacked before today's treatments have been developed. All, however, I hear imploring today's victim of cancer to embark, immediately, upon a path that promises recovery. And the design of our little park provides such a path.

At the north end of the park, just off an intersection of busy arteries of traffic stands a timbered obelisk-like shelter containing an arrangement of benches for studied reflection. There the cancer-stricken person -- in company with a loved one, perhaps -- can begin to come to grips with the terrifying realization that he or she has a life-threatening disease.

My wife and I sat there, on "Acceptance Plaza", many times in the days following my own diagnosis of prostate cancer, contemplating our fate as I underwent numerous tests and deliberated treatment options. Those, naturally, were most difficult times. I sensed the presence of the park's ghosts and imagined that I heard their plaintive pleas often, in those troubled days.

In the center of the park's shelter is a stone upon which it is explained that the obelisk was an ancient symbol for a gathering place. This particular one, the stone's bronze face explains, is the central object in "Acceptance Plaza". That part of the park is the central point, it's explained, for a cancer patient, symbolizing his or her acceptance of the brutal fact that he or she has a life-threatening disease---a necessary acceptance that enables him or her to set out on a path that hopefully will lead to recovery.

Entering the next section of the park, known as the "Positive Mental Attitude Walk", one finds a series of short concrete pillars upon which sit bronze tablets reminding the victim of cancer that it is the most curable of all chronic diseases. There are treatments for every type of cancer, it's pointed out, and some people have been cured of each of those types. More than half of all cancer victims are considered cured today. "Make up your mind," the tablets urge, "that you will be one of those - - -Make a commitment to do everything in your power to help yourself fight the disease - -Know all your options - -Seek and accept support - -Knowledge heals - - Have plans for pleasant things to do and goals to accomplish- - Make up your mind that when your cancer is gone you are through with it - -"

From the "Positive Mental Attitude Walk," a visitor moves to an "Arch of Triumph," the highest point of the park. The arch represents a passage, victory over cancer, through which one recaptures control of his or her life. Inside the arch, into which filters the daylight through vertical panels of stained glass, a marker acknowledges, with appreciation, the cancer patients, physicians, scientists and others "who have gone before so the present treatments are available". Today's ghosts.

From each end of the arch, a ceremonial ramp descends into a "Garden of Names," where those of cancer survivors appear on a video screen built into the north wall of the garden. Underfoot, crisscrossing paths of red gravel divide the garden's greens. "Life extends its red carpet," a plaque explains, "to those who have the realization and courage to change their existence into living." Near the center of the garden stands a bath for the birds that inhabit the park, oblivious to the presence of its ghosts.

Emerging from the garden, one approaches a plaza known as the "Celebration of Life". There, another arrangement of benches--sheltered from the sun by an arbor - - invites one to sit and meditate further. Encircled by a concrete walk is a group of sculpted bronze figures of people in diverse stages of cancer detection and treatment.

Reflecting the fear and apprehension that accompanies diagnosis, an older couple and a young man carrying a baby approach the first of five hoop-like objects through which they are preparing to pass. Passing through one of the hoops is a girl, appearing concerned but confident. Having passed through all five of the hoops successfully, a couple and a smiling boy express the joy and celebration of life renewed.

The sculpture, entitled "Cancer - - There's Hope," is the work of an internationally-known sculptor, Victor Salmones. He considered it his best, a true labor of love. Two weeks after completing it, however, Salmones was found to have cancer himself. He died from it , shortly afterward. So, today, the ghost of Salmones, also, inhabits the park. And I feel his spirit near, always, whenever I sit on one of those benches beside his masterpiece.

Therefore, I shall continue to go there from time to time. Just to sit, to think, to give thanks-and to celebrate life renewed.

Mr. Richard A. Bloch 
Bloch Cancer Foundation 
Kansas City, MO

Dear Mr. Bloch:

Shortly after returning to the Kansas City area following my retirement a few years ago, I discovered that I had prostate cancer. Since my wife and I live in the Regency apartments, we discovered the Cancer Survivors Park at about the same time.

Throughout our struggle against cancer - - it ended successfully, it appears, in surgery at the University of Kansas Medical Center - - the park was a source of great strength; and it continues to serve as a place of comfort today.

Enclosed is an article that I've written expressing my appreciation of the park. Should the foundation be able to use the article in any way, it has my permission. Realization that I have been helpful to the foundation and its program, in this small way, would be more than sufficient compensation. I reserve, of course, the right to publish the article in any works of my own.

Best wishes, always.

Respectfully yours,

John De Mott, Ph.D 
Professor Emeritus 
Department of Journalism 
University of Memphis