HOLIDAY BRINGS LOVE'S GENEISIS, RENEWAL; PAIR FINDS CLOSENESS IN HARDSHIP

Savor each day. Stop and smell the roses. Make each day count.

These are words that Don and Carolyn Ford live by.

This Valentine's Day, the Fords celebrate more than just 26 years of marriage. They celebrate life.

Last May, Don Ford was diagnosed with multiple myeloma -- cancer of the bone marrow. The words stopped the now 50-year-old cold. His father had died of colon cancer at age 58.

Hope, faith, love and an aggressive treatment program has worked a miracle. Don Ford has been cancer-free for four months. His voice is strong again, his color has returned.

Only a bald head remains an instant outward reminder of his ordeal. He is planning to slowly return to work as director of development at Southeast Missouri State University this spring. On Feb. 24, he will drum a song or two at a benefit jazz concert at Academic Auditorium for Southeast Missouri Hospital's hospice.

Carolyn gently pats Don's arm as they talk about how their lives have changed. Sweethearts since college, they are both outgoing and upbeat. Their daughter, Kate, is a junior at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth. Already a close-knit family, Don's illness redefined life's priorities.

When diagnosed, the cancer had eaten a third of one vertebrae. A tumor was approaching his spinal cord, which would have meant certain paralysis. Doctors countered the aggressive cancer cells with five months of both radiation treatment and chemotherapy.

The cancer went into remission, but the Fords well knew the statistics: Many times the cancer returns in 18 to 24 months.

They looked into bone marrow transplantation, but no blood matches were found with his brothers, Jerry or Walter Joe Ford.

Don then opted for a relatively new treatment at St. Louis University Medical Sciences Center -- a stem cell rescue. His own baby blood cells were harvested and then frozen. Massive doses of chemotherapy lowered his white cell count to nothing, and then his own cells were reintroduced in the bone marrow.

The treatment seems to have worked.

"I didn't look at it that Don was going to die tomorrow," says Carolyn. "Hope was always there. A lot of hope and positive thoughts."

She took a year's leave of absence from the Cape Girardeau Public Schools to help nurse her husband back to health.

"It's been a time to reprioritize our lives," says Don. "I was always the planner. I would plan ad nauseum -- next week, next year. I would live in the present, but always think about the future. We were both so busy that you take so many things for granted. Now I savor each day as it happens."

And that has spurred a greater appreciation in a couple already very much in love.

"It's funny to say, but this has been wonderful, quality time for us as a couple," says Don.

The treatment hasn't been easy. The therapy killed all the fastest growing cells in the center of his body, but brought devastating side effects. He suffered severe nausea and blurred vision. He developed sores in his mouth and his esophagus swelled. In the first two weeks, he dropped 20 pounds from his slim frame. His hair and nails fell out.

It was hard to watch the transformation, Carolyn admits. But her smile or supportive shoulder never wavered.

Loving support came from far and wide. The outpouring from the region was nothing short of remarkable.

Carolyn walks to a table in the living room and picks up a white wicker basket overflowing with cards. Don received more than 300 notes and cards of prayers -- many from individuals he knew, others Sunday school classes and people they had never met.

"I'd like to give a valentine to Cape Girardeau for being so supportive during Don's illness," says Carolyn. "The compassion was so unbelievable."

He holds onto the fact that the University of Arkansas at Little Rock -- a leader in meyloma research -- anticipates two major breakthroughs in the next five years, including gene therapy and a vaccine.

"If I can make it five years, I feel confident these new treatments will keep me from dying," says Don.

Carolyn leans over and intertwines her fingers around his arm. Don's illness has taught them the importance of small every day happenings, of interactions with people, of good health.

The door bell rings -- a bouquet of roses from Don to Carolyn arrives, an early Valentine's Day gift.

"I'm lucky in the respect I had two major diseases in my lifetime," he says, aware how crazy it sounds. "I had tuberculosis in 1975 and cancer in 1994."

Through a brush with death, the Fords have discovered the fragile preciousness of everyday life and love.