Jake Bailey - Jake Bailey: What Cancer Taught Me

Teenager Jake Bailey grabbed headlines around the world when he delivered a rousing speech from a wheelchair at his schools end-of-year prizegiving in 2015. At the time Jake was head boy at Christchurch Boys High School, and had just one week earlier been diagnosed with the fastest growing form of cancer, Burkitts non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He was given two weeks to live if the cancer was left untreated, and was hospitalised for three months while undergoing intensive chemotherapy treatment.

A video of the speech that Jake made to his fellow students was viewed by millions and attracted media attention globally. His now famous quote Heres the thing, none of us get out of life alive, so be gallant, be great, be gracious, and be grateful for the opportunities you have was voted Massey Universitys 2015 New Zealand Quote of the Year.

Now in remission, Jake is based on the Gold Coast in Australia, from where he travels to deliver inspirational speeches that draw on his experience of cancer and all that it has taught him. He is an ambassador for the Mia Health Foundation in New Zealand and the Tour de Cure in Australia.

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First published by Penguin Random House New Zealand, 2017

Text Jake Bailey, 2017

The right of Nicola McCloy to be identified as the author of this work in terms of section 96 of the Copyright Act 1994 is hereby asserted.

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Cover design by Emma Jakicevich Penguin Random House New Zealand
Text design by Kate Barraclough Penguin Random House New Zealand
Cover photograph by Stephen Goodenough
Prepress by Image Centre Group

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ISBN: 978-0-14-377087-9

For the staff of the Christchurch BMTU and my haematologist, without whom I wouldnt be here to write this, and the nurse without whom my speech would never have happened.

INTRODUCTION

About half a million dollars. Thats how much the taxpayer has paid for me to be here writing this today. I didnt receive it as a cheque, direct debit, or cash; I received it as something far more valuable life-saving medical treatment at Christchurch Hospital. If it wasnt for our healthcare system, Id be in a box in the ground now. I dont underestimate the significance of this, the luck I had to be born in a country with a healthcare system like ours, the luck I had to be treated by such an incredible medical team made up of such incredible people, and my luck to be able to be here today none of it is lost on me.

I learnt a lot in the time I spent in hospital a lot about myself, about life, about death, and how underpaid nurses are, and about anti-nausea medication. And some of the things that I learnt have changed my life for the better by far. They have made me a better person.

Ive also realised that, now I have beaten cancer, people think I have some amazing life advice to dish out, that the secrets of life are hidden somewhere in bags of chemotherapy drugs.

The truth is, Im not qualified to give out any kind of life advice Im a 19-year-old kid. What I am qualified to tell you about is how lucky you are to be here right now, because thats something I understand, and also what having cancer has taught me.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Theodore Roosevelt
From Citizenship in a Republic, Paris, 23 April, 1910

1

BC BEFORE CANCER

Before any of this happened, I was just a very normal teenager. Okay, I was head boy or senior monitor as its known at my school Christchurch Boys High School but I still did all the things that a normal teenage boy would do. I had a bit of a reputation for being a monitor who was more focused on enjoying life than achieving straight As, even though I had ambitions. That is not to say I didnt take my responsibilities very seriously, because I did. But when I was off duty I pushed my limits. Some of that came from the pressure of being head boy and the stress that came with it. I didnt do drugs or hurt others, but every weekend I embraced being young. As I said in the speech I gave at my schools end-of-year prizegiving, there is a point at which parents need to step back and give young people the space to make our own choices, to become the people we will be.

I was exploring. I still joke about how I probably gave myself cancer. On a normal weekend, Id go out partying, sleep for four hours, eat takeaways, and do dumb things like riding in car boots I guess it could be seen as normal teenage boy stuff. To some people, the things I used to do might seem immature for a person who had been put in a position of responsibility, but it was me learning to celebrate my life. Not doing anything too harmful I was just having a laugh.

Some of my desire to appreciate life may have come from an awareness of death. Seven months before I was made head boy, I sat at the bedside of my nana, my mums mum, Elaine Berry, as cancer took her. We were incredibly close. For most of my life I felt like there was no age gap between us. She was vibrant, kind, humorous and wise and, having lost a son and a husband, she talked a lot about enjoying life and appreciating the little things. In fact, one of her regular comments when she enquired about my latest adventures was: Good on you, Jake! None of us get out of life alive. They are not her words originally, but she is the one who fixed that idea firmly in my head.