To you, the reader:
Before you begin, I want to caution you…it is likely that this story will affect you emotionally.
I say that because I had a difficult time emotionally when I first wrote it 13 years ago. My eyes filled again when I re-read it just a couple days ago.
The athletes and coaches I’ve featured in the stories I’ve written were often the center of discussion during their playing or coaching days.
What is now this story’s Part 1 was written when its subject, our oldest grandson, my namesake, Theodore John Menswar III, was still with us, still battling a form of cancer called myelodysplastic syndrome.
While he never attained All-State honors or was the athlete featured in a newspaper article, the impact he and his story had on people often became the focal point of conversation.
This coming Friday, February 27, will mark the date five years ago that a combination of cancer and Covid (when no vaccine was yet available) finally took him from us. He was 23.
Though some may question why his story is included in the Sports section of MIL, my answer is simple. I’ve put it here for three reasons.
First…Theo liked the sport of soccer and he absolutely LOVED playing defense. Even went so far as to develop different defensive schemes to give to his coach in an attempt to share his personal thoughts on how to play the position.
Best part was that the coach, knowing how smart Theo was…LISTENED TO HIM!
But the bruises displayed on his body after playing a game showed that his opponent was no longer just the player he faced on the field. In fact, this “new” opponent was brutally unfair and didn’t even wear a uniform.
Second…Athletes are often described as tough, disciplined, dedicated, and mentally skilled. Theo was ALL of those…and more.
I remember putting him through different exercises in an attempt to strengthen the muscles in his arms, legs, and feet. Leg raises, knee bends, squats, foot circles, bar lifts, and more. Thousands of them over a period of years…all done on the days when he wasn’t working with a certified physical therapist and given permission to do so.
In fact, he was the toughest, bravest, most impacting person I’ve ever known…and after spending more than 70 years involved with several different sports and hundreds and hundreds of athletes, I’ve met more than a few. Just how tough was Theo? Read on.
Third…and this one is perhaps the most important.
I put Theo’s story…his complete story…here because it will allow me to again thank Brant’s brother and Theo’s uncle, our youngest son, Todd, himself a former player and coach.
When all had supposedly been done for Theo (then 15 years old) and it appeared that no hope remained, Todd refused to accept that conclusion.
The impact that the video he made had on those who saw it was almost miraculous. Assisted by his wife, Karrie, and using a popular form of social media…YouTube…its content was so impacting that it went viral and their efforts resulted in giving us nine more years with Theo.
For those who choose to view it, I have no doubt that the words on the posters and the song heard in the background will linger long after the video ends.
While the choice to read Theo’s story is yours, I can assure you of one thing…
You’ll never forget him.
Theo’s Story
Part 1 – (originally penned in 2013)
The subjects of my “WHERE ARE THEY NOW?” or “SPOTLIGHT ON…” stories have always been local sports figures who have each made a name for themselves on the athletic fields and/or hardwood courts in the city of Manchester.
My goal has always been to let the readers know what has happened to the different “celebrities” over the years as well as to provide insight into their backgrounds, which often proved to be both interesting and informative.
While the subject of this issue has not yet reached celebrity status in the world of sports, it was while playing a sport – soccer – that his “story” had its beginning. It is much too complex to provide you readers with all the details, plus, in all sincerity, it would also generate emotions that, because they are ongoing, I’d rather not rekindle at the present time.
It was November, 2011, and my wife, Karen, and I had just arrived at our condo in Rockledge, Florida, about five minutes away from the home of our oldest son, Brant, and his family.
Though he, his wife, Emily, and their sons, Theo and Brady, lived in Manchester for several years, they decided to move to Emily’s hometown of Rockledge. That’s where her Mom and Dad, Liz and Jim Schorr, still resided as well as her older sister, Lisa and her family.
Jim’s health had been deteriorating over the years due to the onset of post-polio. The debilitating disease has resulted in the retired psychologist spending the overwhelming percentage of his life in a wheelchair and, though we loved the fact that Brant and his family lived near us in the Queen City, we knew that they really needed to return to Florida so Emily could be near her folks, particularly her Dad.
After they moved, being able to see them only a couple times a year “didn’t cut it,” so we decided to drain most of our savings and purchased a condo just down the street from their home. That way, we figured we would have the best of both worlds. We could spend the winter and early spring in Florida with our oldest son and his family and the rest of the year with our youngest son, Todd, and his family, wife Karrie and our granddaughters, Kadence and Avery.
Back in Florida, Karen and I were in the midst of one of her favorite weekend “hobbies, ”yard-saling, when her cell phone rang. It was Brant telling her/us that they were on the way to Orlando’s Florida Hospital for Children (FHC).
They had taken Theo (then 14 years old) to their family doctor the day before to have him look at the severe bruises that covered Theo’s legs and arms after his soccer match. Though bruising is common-place following any athletic competition, particularly one involving a multitude of body contact with minimal padding, Theo’s were extremely dark so blood was drawn to allow for a closer examination of what might be the problem.
At approximately 9 a.m. on that Saturday morning, the doctor’s office had called Brant to tell him to get Theo to FHC immediately, and he made the call to us as they were on the way to Orlando.
After a number of hospital visits and months of testing, an answer was finally provided.
Theo was diagnosed with Myleodysplastic Syndrome, MDS (the same illness as that of Good Morning America’s Robin Roberts), and the family was told that a bone marrow transplant was now necessary.
Tests were completed on his brother, Brady, but he was NOT a match. That meant that a world-wide search would have to be undertaken and, within a relatively short period of time, a match was found.
In fact, there were two, both “perfect.”
With great anticipation, Theo entered FHC to prepare for the transplant. While we knew that the process would require him to be there for some time. 111 days, to be exact, what we didn’t know, and were not prepared for, was that either Mom or Dad or both would have to be there for the entire duration. They had to be immediately available for any decision-making involving Theo’s treatment.
That also meant that their respective work lives had to be put on hold and they’d now have to find housing to permit them to be able to be by their son’s side for the length of the stay.
It is here that I want to thank the Ronald McDonald House for making their facility our son and daughter-in-law’s “home” away from home.
And it was, for the next 256 days.
Over that period of time, Karen & I made the trip to the hospital numerous times, putting approximately 12,000 miles on her van, so we could be near our grandson. Our condo also became “home” for our youngest grandson, Brady, who had been staying with Emily’s folks, two phenomenal people, during his parents’ absence.
On three different occasions, the family was called to the hospital to say “goodbye, ”the last of which was the most gut-wrenching experience Karen and I have ever gone through.
Standing at his bedside, each of us holding his frail hands, listening through tears as he told us how much he was going to miss us, is something that has been permanently burned into my brain. And I know it was even harder for my wife because she and Theo have formed a bond stronger than steel.
It was at this time that our youngest son, Todd, feeling totally frustrated and helpless because it seemed Theo’s doctors had done all that was possible and hope was fading fast, did something that we all believe, particularly Theo, saved his life.
He put together a video entitled “My nephew is dying” asking for help from anyone and posted it on YouTube.
Local resident, Karen Rosenthal, saw it and was so impacted by its content that she posted it on her Facebook page. From there, it was seen by Mary, her nurse friend in Texas, who worked for a doctor who specialized in the treatment of fungus infections and she approached her physician boss to ask if he could help.
As a result, an incredible ball began rolling due to the efforts of two incredible women.
Doctors from around the country began contacting FHC to offer their expertise and advice. Most importantly, Theo’s bone marrow transplant specialist, Dr. Yasser Khaled, was open to accepting it.
In his own words…“As long as the individual has the appropriate medical background, I’ll listen to anybody that can help me save this boy’s life.”
And collectively, that’s EXACTLY what they did.
After months and months and months of treatment that I can’t even begin to describe to you, Theo was finally given the OK to return to his home, which had undergone a complete “make-over” by an entire community of family and friends, as well as total strangers, to properly welcome him/them back.
Theo was even provided with an escort from the city limits to his George Avenue home by the Rockledge Police Department, lights flashing and sirens wailing, as groups of people lined the streets waving their welcome.
However, though he was finally back in his own bed, his hospital bed still loomed in the background.
After missing his entire freshman and sophomore years of high school, he knew that he still had to return to FHC every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for dialysis and photophoresis treatments as well as the administration of a variety of medications.
By the way, both his 15th and 16th birthdays were spent in a hospital room.
While the battle has been filled with more valleys than peaks, thanks to the doctors (particularly Dr. Khaled), the wonderful staff of pediatric bone marrow nurses, the numerous people from the medical profession who answered Todd’s “call” for help, the prayers of countless people from every part of the earth and every walk of life, and the will of God, Theo is STILL here, and STILL fighting!
Yet, his struggle is far from over and, to be honest, the times that he’s taken one step forward, only to be followed by three steps back, have been way too many, and, for all concerned, very discouraging.
And one of those times is happening right now.
His central line has been diagnosed with several serious infections, again, and he’s been re-admitted to FHC for a minimum of two weeks as they attempt to provide the appropriate treatment which, if successful, will allow him to return home, hopefully soon.
Right now, he’s somewhat frustrated, harboring thoughts that he may have to experience another lengthy stay in a hospital room, a reasonable “fear” in his 16-year-old brain because this is how it all began the last time.
It is here that I want to remind you why I’ve chosen to make Theodore John Menswar III, my grandson, my name sake, the subject of my article.
To me, he’s the TOUGHEST, BRAVEST, MOST IMPACTING person I have EVER met, and I wanted you all to “know” that.
I realize I’m prejudiced, but he’s truly an amazing young man…one you’ll never forget once you have the opportunity to make his acquaintance and, though I’m a baseball guy, God willing, I long to watch Theo play soccer again.
To all those people who have asked both Karen and me about Theo’s progress and have continually offered their support and prayers, from the bottom of both of our heavy hearts, we sincerely thank each and every one of you.
As I said, the details are too many and the emotions are too deep for me to continue this story…it’s hard to see my computer screen through water-filled eyes, so I’m stopping here. I only ask that you pray for his complete recovery.
Papa Menswar
Part 2 will also tap into your emotions, but I think much of it will make you smile, and maybe even laugh!
Ted Menswar Jr. is a life-long resident of the Queen City and a retired member of the English Department of Memorial High School who has been involved in local sports for 70 years as a player, a coach, a mentor and a fan. He can be reached at tedmenswar@outlook.com