Post by cooter on Jan 26, 2008 17:21:59 GMT -5
This hits me close b/c he was one of my academy instructors. He was an amazing guy and will be missed. I wanted to let everyone here know... he died early Friday morning.
Link to pics of Marco
www.suburbanchicagonews.com/beaconnews/home/-1,gallery_AU25_MARC0.photogallery?index=0
RIP in piece brother...
A special 'brother' loses battle after stem cell transplant
In memory of North Aurora firefighter Marco Ordaz: 'His body grew tired'
January 26, 2008
Steve Miller said it simply, plainly. Yet so accurately.
"The first time you meet Marco Ordaz, you'll have a friend for life."
The North Aurora fire chief sure wasn't blowing smoke.
He spoke those very words last summer, when I was preparing to tell Marco's story -- a terror-to-triumph piece about the beloved firefighter who never bothered to worry about himself until others around him were safe and secure.
And even then, when a villain known as acute lymphoblastic leukemia invaded his body, Marco never wavered. And likely because of it, he ultimately kicked cancer in the teeth, his own patented smile curling slowly up his cheek bones as if to say, "I gotcha, jerk."
So Marco brushed off his hands and returned to the fire station -- back with his brothers, wearing hat No. 78.
Cruelly, the cancer returned a couple months later and Marco, quite naturally, doused it again.
Affectionately nicknamed "Budda," the burly firefighter received a stem cell transplant in early December after he again managed to get his blood cells 100 percent free of cancer.
But due to liver damage and other infections that consumed his organs as a result of the transplant -- something completely out of his control -- Marco died at 3:17 a.m. Friday, surrounded by loved ones.
Sadly, he was only 29.
"His body grew tired," said Marco's wife, Tricia, "and I had to let him go."
Chief Miller watched "the most courageous battle I have ever witnessed in my entire career," and was at Marco's side when he finished his two-year fight.
Air tubes were installed to help Marco's breathing on Thursday morning, before his blood pressure plummeted and his system began to crash in the afternoon and evening. Knowing Marco would refuse the offer of being placed on life support, Tricia invited family and friends to be by her husband's side.
"We were all able to have a few minutes alone with him to say goodbye," Chief Miller said. "At 3:13 a.m., we all were gathered around him and we each had a hand on him. The tube was pulled at that time, and he took his last breath four minutes later."
I usually try not to get too personally tied to subjects of my stories, but the chief was right: You couldn't help getting attached to Marco the moment you met him -- when your fingers required an ice pack after his pulsating handshake.
And that smile, which looked like it was permanently sliced from his pumpkin-shaped face.
When I met with Marco and Tricia in their living room, we got the interview formalities out of the way before spending a half hour chatting about the cruelties of cancer, other debilitating diseases, and how they don't discriminate by age, gender or race.
I explained to him that my 35-year-old sister was stricken with multiple sclerosis several years ago and, like Marco, is a true warrior. I also learned that my mom taught Marco eighth-grade history at Jefferson Middle School on Aurora's West Side -- a fact that further connected our paths.
"You want to talk about a neat, neat kid!" Mom said, when I told her I'd met Marco. "He was always such a gentle giant.'"
Mom and I attended an Elburn fundraiser to benefit Marco, who sat in the middle of the room like Santa Claus. He patted his thighs and invited one and all to grab a seat and pose for pictures. As usual, Marco was the life of the party, the bubbles inside the champagne.
After I chronicled Marco's story in the newspaper, an e-mail from him arrived on Aug. 5 at 8:14 a.m., not long after his paper hit the porch. I saved his note for many reasons, mainly if I ever needed a lesson on faith and determination.
"Brother, I only hope when this is all over we can do another one on how my life is now and how I am back at work doing what I do," Marco wrote. "Brother, also know that I keep your family and your sister in my prayers. Keep fighting the good fight, stay strong, and live well. May God bless you and keep you safe."
Sleep peacefully, my friend.
Link to pics of Marco
www.suburbanchicagonews.com/beaconnews/home/-1,gallery_AU25_MARC0.photogallery?index=0
RIP in piece brother...
A special 'brother' loses battle after stem cell transplant
In memory of North Aurora firefighter Marco Ordaz: 'His body grew tired'
January 26, 2008
Steve Miller said it simply, plainly. Yet so accurately.
"The first time you meet Marco Ordaz, you'll have a friend for life."
The North Aurora fire chief sure wasn't blowing smoke.
He spoke those very words last summer, when I was preparing to tell Marco's story -- a terror-to-triumph piece about the beloved firefighter who never bothered to worry about himself until others around him were safe and secure.
And even then, when a villain known as acute lymphoblastic leukemia invaded his body, Marco never wavered. And likely because of it, he ultimately kicked cancer in the teeth, his own patented smile curling slowly up his cheek bones as if to say, "I gotcha, jerk."
So Marco brushed off his hands and returned to the fire station -- back with his brothers, wearing hat No. 78.
Cruelly, the cancer returned a couple months later and Marco, quite naturally, doused it again.
Affectionately nicknamed "Budda," the burly firefighter received a stem cell transplant in early December after he again managed to get his blood cells 100 percent free of cancer.
But due to liver damage and other infections that consumed his organs as a result of the transplant -- something completely out of his control -- Marco died at 3:17 a.m. Friday, surrounded by loved ones.
Sadly, he was only 29.
"His body grew tired," said Marco's wife, Tricia, "and I had to let him go."
Chief Miller watched "the most courageous battle I have ever witnessed in my entire career," and was at Marco's side when he finished his two-year fight.
Air tubes were installed to help Marco's breathing on Thursday morning, before his blood pressure plummeted and his system began to crash in the afternoon and evening. Knowing Marco would refuse the offer of being placed on life support, Tricia invited family and friends to be by her husband's side.
"We were all able to have a few minutes alone with him to say goodbye," Chief Miller said. "At 3:13 a.m., we all were gathered around him and we each had a hand on him. The tube was pulled at that time, and he took his last breath four minutes later."
I usually try not to get too personally tied to subjects of my stories, but the chief was right: You couldn't help getting attached to Marco the moment you met him -- when your fingers required an ice pack after his pulsating handshake.
And that smile, which looked like it was permanently sliced from his pumpkin-shaped face.
When I met with Marco and Tricia in their living room, we got the interview formalities out of the way before spending a half hour chatting about the cruelties of cancer, other debilitating diseases, and how they don't discriminate by age, gender or race.
I explained to him that my 35-year-old sister was stricken with multiple sclerosis several years ago and, like Marco, is a true warrior. I also learned that my mom taught Marco eighth-grade history at Jefferson Middle School on Aurora's West Side -- a fact that further connected our paths.
"You want to talk about a neat, neat kid!" Mom said, when I told her I'd met Marco. "He was always such a gentle giant.'"
Mom and I attended an Elburn fundraiser to benefit Marco, who sat in the middle of the room like Santa Claus. He patted his thighs and invited one and all to grab a seat and pose for pictures. As usual, Marco was the life of the party, the bubbles inside the champagne.
After I chronicled Marco's story in the newspaper, an e-mail from him arrived on Aug. 5 at 8:14 a.m., not long after his paper hit the porch. I saved his note for many reasons, mainly if I ever needed a lesson on faith and determination.
"Brother, I only hope when this is all over we can do another one on how my life is now and how I am back at work doing what I do," Marco wrote. "Brother, also know that I keep your family and your sister in my prayers. Keep fighting the good fight, stay strong, and live well. May God bless you and keep you safe."
Sleep peacefully, my friend.
