A model life — cancer and all

The photo of Tim Maiorca has him in swim trunks coming out of a frigid Lake George.

Staci Wills’ photo was taken in the early-morning chill of a forest. She wrapped in a blanket during every break.

They endured plenty for the photos.

But just to be alive today, they endured a lot more.

Tim and Staci are Valley residents, survivors of near-death experiences with colorectal cancer, and now 2012 calendar models for a national group’s effort to raise awareness about the ravaging cancer.

We featured both in The Vindicator a few months back as they were prepping to head to Lake George, N.Y., for the photo shoot. The calendar is an annual effort created by The Colon Club — as irreverent and offbeat a survivors group as you will meet.

The production is done, and the 2012 calendars are ready.

Make that “2012 colon-dars.”

Yes — aptly named as a salute to the cancer and the group’s out-of-the box way of promoting awareness. It’s the eighth annual effort.

The name is not the only unique aspect of the calendar. Each model shows off in their photo the significant scarring left on their lower-stomach area — a way of embracing the permanent reminder of their battle.

Staci will have a calendar-unveiling party Saturday at The Petri Club in Youngstown from 3 to 7 p.m. The calendars will be on sale for $16.50 with proceeds to help the club’s mission.

You also can buy them online at www.colondar.com. But as Staci the model says, “Those won’t have my autograph.”

That’s where Staci, of Canfield, and Tim, of Hubbard, are stark contrasts as survivors.

With Staci, you know everything about her cancer. Our interview this week started with me asking, “So how’s the summer been since the shoot?” Five minutes later, I jammed in a second question, and that was mainly to spell my fingers a bit from the typing.

With Tim, his cancer is his cancer. Even this week, he was on a beach for vacation. His walk-around beach attire always included a T-shirt to hide the scar.

“I’m not the type to go up and tell people,” said Tim. “I’ve never been involved in walks or other efforts.”

A friend actually learned about the calendar, and encouraged Tim to apply.

“Doing something like this calendar,” he said, “is my way of promoting cancer screening. Earlier screening would have saved me.”

Tim’s father died in 2000 from colon cancer.

His dad’s doctor asked Tim if he’d been screened. His mom pleaded for it. Tim ignored it.

“I was 37, healthy and fit. It went in one ear and out the other. Eighteen months later — I had it,” he said.

He was diagnosed in 2002 with stage 4 cancer. The survival rate was minimal, he was told. He had had symptoms for about six months, but kept it to himself — until that fateful doctor’s visit.

“That was pretty numb ... that day ...”

When he awoke following the procedure, his first vision was his mom.

“When I opened my eyes, she was there for me ... and she had this look of her face of shock; just shock,” Tim said in a stillness that could hush a Hubbard Memorial Stadium crowd.

He beat enormous odds in 2002. Then 18 months later, he beat cancer of the liver. He now gets checked out every six months.

“I’m blessed,” he said of his life and perfect health.

Staci’s blessed — and bounding.

She blogs about her colorectal cancer. She’ll be speaking in Cleveland, Pittsburgh and at her local church. She listens to her 11 other 2012 colondar peers. This weekend, she was back in Lake George for a colondar gathering. The trip included the group’s 5K “Get Your Rear in Gear Run.” (Read the title twice, please.)

“I think ‘I could possibly be saving someone’s life’ by talking about it,” she said.

She’s still adjusting to her new normal as her surgery and recovery were just in 2009 and 2010. Her feet tingle and can become numb. There are activities she can’t do with her kids. And she has to wear a colostomy bag for her waste system. (Staci cheerfully describes it a bit more graphically that would make her a hit on a playground of boys, just not for Sunday morning reading.)

And that normal includes 11 new friends who “get it” regarding colorectal cancer. She talks of the original Lake George weekend like it was yesterday.

“This is the No. 2 cancer in the U.S., but has few support groups for it. It was so neat (at the calendar shoot) to say ‘Hi, I have ...’ and they know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Some of their stories are more painful than hers, she said. There were times of tears. But mainly, it was a frat party all weekend, she said, for folks who’ve been through the same thing.

The shoots were like you’d see in any model shoots, she said — lights, white shades, etc. Aside from the photo time, they were encouraged just to have fun and bond.

They were also asked to be respectful of each other’s shoots and not interfere. Staci said that didn’t work for Tim’s shoot.

“They all had locations a mile or two away from the house,” Tim said of the 11 others. “Mine was on the boat dock at the bottom of the house and they were all on the porch.”

Staci said they tried hard to be polite for Tim. But it had, after all, a party-like feeling.

“We started hooting at him, and all sorts of banter,” said Staci.

Tim laughed at the memory.

“Yeah — they had a lot of fun with me,” Tim said. “On the way down, I even asked the photographer if we can make them go back inside. He just laughed.”

Laughter burying tears and pain.

There are times, Staci admits, when she wishes it wasn’t her. She’s cancer-free and getting much of her life back. But there will be permanent pains, along with that bag she talks so much about.

And she’ll have to hear other women bemoan their bikini issues, and she can only think “Really?”

But in another way, she’s glad it was her.

“Looking at my family, I would rather battle it than anyone else. I’m glad it was me and not my mom. I’m glad it was me and not my kids.

“But there will probably forever in me be a person who wants to go back to that carefree lifestyle. That will always be that part of me.”

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes e-mails about stories and our newspaper. E-mail him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on vindy.com.