There for each other
Du, Chea develop bond while battling childhood diseases
Lincoln football player David Du, left, and 6-year-old Austin Chea are neighbors, but the two share a lot more in common, having battled cancer.
“It’s almost like a miracle. I feel great about people helping me because I know I need it. Right now, I feel awesome because I have no pain. David (Du) is my best ‘older’ friend. I know he loves me.” — Lincoln 6-year-old Austin Chea
It’s a sunny but chilly St. Patrick’s Day eve on Carriage Drive in the Lincoln highlands, but – given the mammoth smile on the face of six-year-old Austin Chea – it might as well be Christmas morning.
It has nothing to do with a visit from Santa Claus, or the opening of favorite gifts like new action video games, but instead getting a visit from two people he adores – Lincoln Police Capt. Phil Gould and high school football player David Du.
He didn’t know the tandem until relatively recently, but he’s thrilled he does now. After all, “Captain Phil” has brought him and his parents, David Chea and Vannary Peov, a dozen big, delicious doughnuts, and the tyke is walking around the living room and kitchen like a tiny monarch; he’s got a king-size, choc- olate-frosted, jimmie-covered treat in his two little hands.
Austin shows it to his mom as she relaxes at the kitchen table, and Vannary tells him, “That’s great, honey! Go enjoy it with Daddy.”
She holds her grin until he leaves the room, and her face turns serious, “That makes me feel wonderful, but – when he does that – sometimes I want to cry.”
On days like this, when all seems normal, it’s so hard for anyone to conceive the horrible reality:
Last fall, on Sunday, Oct. 29, just 23 days after his sixth birthday, doctors at Hasbro Children’s Hospital diagnosed Austin with leukemia. He’s currently undergoing chemotherapy sessions, something he’ll have to endure for the next two years.
He had one last Friday, so he continues to lose his hair, and they still sap his strength. For that matter, David and Vannary don’t have much energy, either, as they’re just trying to survive; upon diagnosis, both took time out of work to care for their lone child, so each have lost at least a month of paycheck.
They’re scrambling to find ways to pay their bills, considering the fact they just moved into this neighborhood from Woonsocket back in January and have a new mortgage.
As for Austin, all he knows is he loves being with Gould and Du, who have pledged to support this family in dire straits in any way possible. And while the kindergartner isn’t truly aware the trio share a somewhat common past and/or present – that is, having to overcome a life-threatening injury or illness – he doesn’t have to. He just understands he’s in for a battle, and his “buddies” are in it with him for the long haul – emotionally, physically, spiritually.
Ironically, all insist it wasn’t Austin’s diagnosis that brought all these people together, but fate. The astonishing confluence of occurrences over the past eight, nine months, Gould said, “makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This story is beyond comprehension.”
Austin had a simpler way to describe the epitome of The Golden Rule – “It’s almost like a miracle. I feel great about people helping me because I know I need it. Right now, I feel awesome because I have no pain. David (Du) is my best ‘older’ friend. I know he loves me.”
It all started, Gould said, last summer, after Du had informed him he wanted to play football.
“I know they had started captains’ practice back in late June or early July, and I had an idea of what was going on because my son, Aidan, a freshman, was working out with the guys,” he noted. “He talked about what great shape some of the kids were in, and he included David.
“Aidan said he was a specimen, just chiseled, and I was happy to see he was taking it seriously.”
Fast forward to mid-August, when varsity workouts began, and Gould saw it for himself.
“I’m the strength and conditioning coach, and it was really apparent who had worked out over the summer; David was one,” he said. “He was 6-2, 190, and we were looking at him as a starting tight end/defensive back. He picked up our new offensive and defensive schemes quickly, and showed all the promise of having an outstanding season.
“We had our Injury Fund game against Cumberland, and he looked fantastic.”
Just two weeks later, Sean Cavanaugh, the head coach, informed his staff he had been in touch with David, who said his parents were taking him for some tests. He had been bothered by a lump near his shoulder/neck area, and wanted to get it checked.
“He had missed a couple of practices, so we were just hoping for the best, trying to be optimistic,” Gould shrugged. “When we got confirmation it was, in fact, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, it shook me to my core. I thought, ‘This can’t be.’ All of the kids are special to you, we love them all, but David has this special quality.
“He lights up the field; he always gives 110 percent effort, and his attitude is beyond good. He’s kind and respectful. He’s the kind of student-athlete you want to clone.”
Word spread fast among his teammates – not to mention school and community.
“When we were informed, I didn’t doubt the doctors, but I also couldn’t believe it; my jaw just dropped, and I know it was open for a long time,” he said with a sad smile. “I was in disbelief; it was like I was living in a movie or TV show. My mom (Winnie) never cried, but she’s always been a tough cookie. I’m sure she did when I wasn’t around.
“I was crushed because I wanted to play football so badly,” he added. “I didn’t play my freshman or sophomore year because I played basketball, but I’ve always been fascinated by football. I figured it was like a dream, a fantasy for most high school guys, and I had seen other juniors be successful at it.
“The big thing was ‘Friday Night Lights,’ not the show but the concept. It was my chance to shine on the big stage. All that was taken away.”
Du went through five cycles of treatments (five 21-day periods consisting of four chemo sessions in a week followed by two weeks off). His last chemo treatment came on Jan. 3.
“I was asked to go to back to the (Hasbro Children’s) hospital in late January; the doctors wanted to see if I had any cancer left, and he told me all the scans were normal,” he stated. “That was wonderful, but the weird thing was the last day of chemo was more emotional for me than the day they told me the cancer, at least for now, was gone.
“When they told me there was none left, I thought, ‘There better not be. I’ve had enough.’”
As for Austin, he started kindergarten at Saylesville Elementary last September and took to it right away. By the end of the month, Vannary noticed he started coughing, let it be for a few days thinking it would go away. When it didn’t disappear, she brought her boy to his pediatrician.
“He told me he had a sinus infection, so he put Austin on antibiotics,” his mom said. “A few days later, we got a call from the school nurse saying he was complaining of a headache and was running a fever. I was concerned because he had a slight case of pneumonia the year before, so I thought, ‘My God, he has the same thing?’
“I called the pediatrician, and she told me he did have pneumonia, so we started a new round to antibiotics,” she continued. “He was sick for his sixth birthday.”
Slow but sure, Austin seemed to be making a comeback, he even went to a children’s Halloween party with his parents on Oct. 28.
“That night, I felt him shivering in bed at about 4 a.m., and he woke up and told me, ‘Daddy, I’m cold and my legs hurt,’ so I said, ‘OK, let me get some medicine for you.’ I went downstairs to grab it, went back up, gave it to him and massaged his legs. He fell asleep, so I went back to bed.”
At about 8:30 the next morning, he complained that the same pain had moved further up his legs.
“He had done a potato sack race the night before and fell, so we thought maybe it was a bruise or just a sore muscle,” Vannary mentioned. “Plus we had just got him some new sneakers. We decided to go out for breakfast, but we never made it because he had fallen asleep in the backseat.
“He actually had a make-up swim lesson later that morning, and I asked him if he could go,” she added. “He’s usually very enthusiastic, but he said, ‘Mommy, I can’t. My legs hurt way too much.’
“We decided to go out for lunch instead, but he couldn’t walk into the restaurant; David had to carry him. On the way home, he was still complaining. That’s when we thought, ‘That’s it. We need to bring him to Hasbro.’ He always tells us what’s wrong, but he was really persistent this time. We knew something serious was going on.”
That was about 2:30 p.m., Sunday. Oct. 29. Not quite seven hours later, after blood tests, said Vannary, “a new doctor came out and said, ‘Here’s the scoop: We’re looking at leukemia. That’s on our short list.’ I looked at David and said, ‘Do you hear that? Do you know what this means?’ Our hearts just sank. I was beyond shocked.
“I called my dad (Tha Peov) in Woonsocket and started crying; he said, ‘Honey, what’s going on?’” she added. “I told him Austin might have cancer, and he just said, ‘I’ll be right there.’ Austin was wired, as he hadn’t eaten almost all day, but he’s a night owl to begin with.
“I just wanted him to go to sleep … I just fell into David’s arms and wept.”
Noted his father: “You know what was sad? He couldn’t go out for Halloween, and he was going to dress up like a vampire. He was so excited about that.”
The following morning, Chea had a bone-marrow biopsy and a lumbar puncture; that’s when the official word came out. Austin had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a type of childhood cancer in which the bone marrow makes too many immature lymphocytes, or type of while blood cell, and they never mature. It can affect red or while blood cells, or platelets.
According to the National Cancer Institute, this type of cancer usually gets worse quickly if not treated. However, ALL is also the most common form of childhood cancer, and – if treated – has a 98 percent survival rate.
Immediately after he had his first lumbar puncture, he also received a chemo injection in his spine.
“We told him then, ‘Baby, you’re sick. You have cancer. Do you know what that means?’” Vannary stated. “He just looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. That made my heart sink even more.”
Both talked to their bosses about their situation, that they would be unable to work; because David was a field service technician, he wouldn’t get paid at all. As an opthalmic medical assistant, Vannary at least qualified for temporary disability insurance.
They spent every single night in the hospital. If they did leave for an hour or two, they did so only to shower, get a new change of dress and check on the house. When that happened, Vannary’s dad stayed with his grandson.
If you’re puzzled how this threesome’s coming together was predestined, or if you don’t believe in fate, perhaps this should will change your mind:
When Gould received an application from a social worker familiar with the Chea case, asking for the LPD to get involved via the national “Cops for Kids With Cancer” foundation, he knew virtually nothing about it, but it took him little time to research it and jump on the bandwagon.
As all this was happening, Gould had been helping Du get back into shape via weightlifting. Du, you see, requested Gould give him a hand with training advice so he could prepare for varsity lacrosse this spring. He asked Gould, who happily obliged; he even did Du one better, asking him to meet him at the police station, where they would train together.
Naturally, that thrilled the high scholl junior
Slowly, Gould began to tell Du about a car accident he had experienced on Sept. 14, 2010, how he nearly died as a result. He had suffered bleeding on the brain, a fractured bone in his neck, broken scapula and shredded ligaments in both knees.
“I told him what I went through to reach recovery, that it took me over four months to get back to where I felt comfortable about being able to do the things I used to,” he said. “I knew David was going to have the same struggles. I also told him when I was trying to get back into shape, I didn’t want a lot of people around watching me.
“I think he appreciated that; I said, ‘ I struggled, and you’re gonna, too.”
Explained Du: “I had told Coach that I had been worried about going to someone for help in the weight room who wouldn’t know what to say ( or how to treat me), understand I wanted to ease my way into recovery. Learning what he had been through made it clear he knew.”
Gould had to wait to see if the “Cops for Kids With Cancer” would provide for the Cheas, and when he discovered it had been approved, he called Vannary.
“We were sitting in The Tomorrow Fund clinic at Hasbro, and I received a call from a number I didn’t know,” she said. “He told me we had been accepted, but it couldn’t be ready for February. We were going to receive a $5,000 grant, so we were ecstatic. We were so grateful; we knew it would help out a lot.”
On the second meeting between Gould and Du at the LPD, the coach brought up the plight of Austin and his family, and how his recent past and the boys were so similar. He asked if his gridder would like to not only personally but officially provide aid, and Gould didn’t have to utter another sound.
“I asked him if he wanted to meet the family, and he just said, ‘Absolutely.’” Gould grinned.
Responded Du: “I said that because I wanted to share my experiences with Austin; I knew he was going through the same stuff I had. I told Capt. Phil that, when I was receiving chemo, I drew all my inspiration from the little kids. They showed me that I was 17, I was older, so I had nothing to complain about. If I did, I should be ashamed.”
Gould set up a meeting at the Chea household on Wednesday, Jan. 31, and he went to pick up Du. What immediately stood out to Gould was this: As he stood outside Du’s front door, he looked up the hill. There was their destination, perhaps four houses away.
“They were neighbors, and they didn’t even know it!” Gould gushed. “I couldn’t believe it. It’s, like, what a small world. I thought it was telling.”
It gets better.
While Du and Austin hit it off spectacularly, something kept bothering David Chea (notice the first name?). He kept staring at Du sitting in his living room, and – finally – Du asked him, “Do you wear (L.L. Bean) boots?” When the elder Chea said, “Yes,” they looked at each other in amazement.
“All of a sudden, it clicked,” Gould said. “They both realized they had seen each other several times over the past few months in the hospital. Austin and David had been undergoing chemo treatments at the same time.
“My jaw hit the floor. I don’t have to tell you I got chills, goosebumps, then it got downright eerie. David pulled out his cellphone and showed (the elder Chea) a picture of him as a child. They looked like twins. It was incredible.”
While Gould provided the idea of helping out the Cheas, Du is the one who ran with it. He developed an organization en- titled, “Austin’s Army,” which is designed to raise awareness of cancer in Lincoln, but so much more.
“I want to show a new family who just came into our community the love and support Lincoln has to offer,” Du stated. “It’s also designed to act as a fundraiser. I talked to Coach, and we decided to sell bracelets (with ‘Austin’s Army’ inscribed on it) in all of the Lincoln schools, and at the police and fire departments.
“I also want to give people something to remember about our town, how we give back.”
As of March 16, Du had sold hundreds of bracelets, $950 worth at Austin’s own Saylesville Elementary; $800 at Lonsdale; $804 at the high school; and who knows how much more? (Du indicated the bracelets cost $5 each, but some folks give more).
According to Gould, the police department tacked on a donation of its own in memory of Sgt. Richard Thibodeaux, who spent 25 years on the force before retiring in 1990.
“Before and after retirement, Richard was always someone who cared deeply about the community,” Gould said. “Sadly, he passed away last year after a long battle with cancer. A donation of $750 is being made to the Cheas from the Thibodeaux family and the Lincoln Police Union.”
While speaking with Gould, Du also decided to do his Exhibition (a graduation requirement) on the campaign he built for Austin.
“Originally, I was going to do it on my experiences with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, but then I met Austin and changed my mind,” he said while sitting at the Chea kitchen table, his young pal by his side. “The Exhibition is being run by another assistant football coach, Mr. (Paul) Dalpe. I submitted an (answer to the) essential question he asked me to answer, ‘What are you trying to address and why?’ and he thought it was a great idea.
“I’m doing this because, in my experience, I’ve had great people help me through some really hard times, especially my girlfriend, Jennifer, and Captain Gould,” he said. “I want to be someone who helps someone else get through some tough times because I’ve been on the receiving end.
“I want to pay it forward.”
That being said, Austin informed Du that he had to take his Lovenox shot, and the boy immediately walked to the freezer to retrieve an ice pack.
“That shot is a blood thinner,” Austin says. “It helps the blood clot in my head get smaller. This is what it looks like” (showing two rather big needles).
Du smiled, “Austin, you know what you’re doing!”
When Vannary entered the room, she watched the two interact and flashed a look of sheer elation.
“When I met David, I also learned his and Austin’s birthdays are only a day apart,” she said. “This is all a miracle. It’s like our paths were meant to cross. When I first heard he wanted to meet us, I couldn’t believe it. A 17-year-old wanted to help, how selfless. A lot of teens nowadays only think about themselves.
“The coincidence of it all is what’s so incredible,” she added. “The fact he had cancer and now is in remission, then we find out he lived right down the street. We’re Cambodian, but we have some Chinese in our blood, and David (Du) is Chinese. The fact he looked so much like Austin as a boy, and their birthdays are so close.
“We’re beyond lucky.”
To purchase a bracelet, visit any fire station in town, or the police department. You also may visit “Austin’s Army Lincoln” on Facebook, or just send a check payable to Lincoln IBPO 435/ Austin’s Army and sent it to the Lincoln Police Department, 100 Old River Road, Lincoln, RI 02838.