Black lab bounds into ‘Supraman’ water polo player’s fight against cancer

ORLANDO, Fla.—Ian Supra has endured all sorts of bad medicine while battling esophageal cancer. Insidious chemotherapy pumped into his veins. Cocktails of other treatments administered through needles, catheters and IVs. Holistic treatments. Conventional treatments. Clinical trials.

But now, good medicine has arrived. Addictive yet non-invasive, except for when she jumps on you to slobber you with wet kisses. Physical and mental therapy with an unconditional touch, complete with the occasional chew toy and a Superman leash and collar that makes her the perfect sidekick for the courageous kid they call "Supraman":

Meet Penelope, an eight-month-old black Labrador retriever.

"She's been a blessing," said Supra, once a star water-polo player and swimmer at Dr. Phillips High School until his life unraveled with the diagnosis in January 2014.

Stage IV esophageal cancer is a hideous beast. The American Cancer Society will tell you that the five-year survival rate is 4 percent when it has spread to the lymph nodes, as in Ian's case. Tiny spots have also popped up in his lungs.

But here's the big curveball in this scenario:

Dying is not an option for Ian Supra. He chooses to live. He chooses to look forward to spending many days with mother, Jackie, and father, Chris, and his girlfriend, Tina. He wants to jam out with a reggae band he has formed with some buddies, called "The O." He wants to go for long walks with Penelope, enjoying all the sights and smells as much as she does, although he stops short of sticking his nose in the grass.

"I'm very determined to obliterate this cancer," he said.

It's been a challenging and painful journey. Supra, 19, has bounced from conventional therapy to holistic treatments in Spain to a clinical trial involving immunotherapy treatment in Tampa, and now back to chemo at Florida Hospital.

He just completed his third round recently, part of a bi-weekly schedule. It involves out-patient treatment that lasts for three days. It's been debilitating because chemo still has that poisonous kick to it, but not as much as before.

Just last weekend, he jumped in the pool with one of his buddies and threw around a water-polo ball. It was only in the community pool, in 4 { feet of water, but it's the little victories that matter.

Then he went paddle boarding on a weekend.

And he gained a couple of pounds, now up to 133 from a low of 125 months back.

Little victories. Big ones. They all count.

It is easy to be a front-runner in life and laugh when everything is going good. Ian is now at the back of the line, trying to catch up with everyone else who doesn't have to stop and think about a clock ticking over their head.

But his smile has not gone away. Nor has the generous spirit of someone who has reached out to others with cancer to offer support, and even raise money. He also brings the cool, cocky confidence of a kid who was once an elite athlete. Nothing changes, even if the game plan got mucked up a little bit.

"It comes down to me," he said. "I have to remember what I'm fighting for and why I need to stay so positive and why I need to just keep fighting and never give up. I want to be healthy again."

Penelope will be right there with him. She's got the irresistibly cuddlesome personality of a Lab that greets you with a scuzzy toy and then sits on your lap.

Ian and Jackie were looking for a dog when one of her co-workers at Florida Hospital mentioned that her brother's Lab had just given birth to a litter.

They snuck Penelope into the hospital by wrapping her in a blanket. Jackie then called Ian, saying she had a surprise waiting for him. After Ian got to the hospital, Jackie asked her friend's brother when Penelope was born.

Aug. 31—Ian's birthday.

"We all just started bawling," Jackie said. "We knew it was meant to be."

"Penelope has helped me so much in the past few months," Ian said. "She makes me get outside every day to walk her. She makes me get up. I have to feed myself. I have to feed her, too, so she makes me get up and do things."

Together they fight for another day. Many more days. Many more sloppy wet kisses.

"To us numbers don't matter," Ian said. "I personally have a goal to be cancer-free by July 4th. That's Independence Day for America. Why not for me?"

Perfect. Fireworks. Burn, cancer, burn.

Associated Press Ian Supra, 19, dances in the kitchen with his therapy dog Penelope as he feels good enough to cook pasta on April 16, 2015, at his Orlando, Fla., home. “She helped me so much in the past few months, she’s been a blessing,” he said.