Words and Image by Terrell Manasco | Painting photo courtesy of Erica Duncan

During the Christmas holidays of 2012, Erica Duncan went to sleep in a Houston, Texas hospital bed and woke up as a paraplegic.

It's a chilly Wednesday afternoon and Erica sits at a table in a downtown Jasper eatery, temporarily abandoning her usual healthy diet by occasionally munching on a French fry. "They're like a dessert for me," she laughs, her close-cropped honey butter colored hair and angelic face bathed in the grayish light of the afternoon sun. It's obvious within minutes that there is something very different about this young lady. There seems to be a definite glow about her, as if she were enveloped in a warm amber halo of pure joy and happiness. Like the Seals and Crofts song, Diamond Girl, Erica Duncan actually shines. That is obvious to anyone who spends a few minutes listening to her. What they don't see behind the cobalt blue eyes and dazzling white smile are the jagged emotional scars left behind from the battles she has fought.

To get the full picture of her story, we have to go back a few years. A 1997 Curry High School graduate, Erica was always active in sports, playing women's softball at Curry and later at Walker College (now Bevill State.) After living in Atlanta, she left her job with a logistics company in 2007 and moved back to Jasper to be close to her family. She landed a job with Alabama Power, and had a promising career ahead of her. Life was good.

But in 2009 the first warning signs of trouble appeared. "I started experiencing a breakdown in my immune system," Erica explains. "I had the flu and then I had pneumonia, and then I had progressive back pain over a year. Just constant back pain."

She consulted numerous doctors but none could determine the cause. "Finally, it got to the point where I simply could not function because I was in so much pain," she continues. "In November I went to the emergency room at St. Vincent's because I couldn't move my legs. I was a very athletic individual, I ran seven miles a day, I worked out every day, and slowly my legs started going numb." she says.

An MRI revealed a large tumor inside Erica's spinal cord. "It was a shock to me, but I was relieved because I finally had an answer to what was wrong with me, and I had been so sick for so long," she says.

Although she didn’t relish the thought of surgery, she wasn't overly concerned because the doctors had told her the tumor was benign. "I thought, 'Oh, we'll just do a quick surgery and I'll be back to being me in no time,’” Erica recalls.

That was only the beginning of her journey. Erica underwent surgery to remove the tumor and was back to work by that Christmas, but three months later, the pain returned. Erica returned to the doctor for her scans, but she wasn't prepared for the punch to the gut she received. "They said, 'Erica we have terrible news. This obviously is not a benign tumor. It was misdiagnosed, it's recurrent, and it's grown back', " she recalls.

She was referred to specialists at M.D. Anderson in Houston, the number one cancer center in the nation. In July 2010, Erica was diagnosed with an anaplastic ependymoma, grade three, and given only a 20% chance of survival. Doctors removed the tumor and she spent three weeks recovering in the hospital in Houston. Emphasizing how much she appreciates the support of her grandparents' church during her recovery, Erica says, "I could not have done this without the people from Antioch Baptist Church. Every single day I received cards, prayers, letters, and care packages. Even though I was seven hundred miles away, I felt so supported from my hometown community."

Erica went through proton beam therapy, a treatment for which only very few patients qualify, on her brain and spinal column. "I had cancer cells in my spinal fluid and they were concerned about it moving to my brain," she says. "It's so rare to be able to have that treatment, and I was small enough that I could fit in the children's gurney. They did 17 days on my brain and 31 days on my spine." She pauses a moment, stressing every syllable of the next sentence for emphasis. "That was the hardest thing I've ever gone through in my whole life. I was nauseous and vomited three and four times a day. My mom was with me the morning my hair fell out. They prepare you for that, but when you wake up and see your hair laying on your pillow and you get in the shower and it just falls out, you can be prepared all you want but it's still traumatic."

“From 2010 to 2012, I really was focused on just healing," she adds. "I thought, 'I'm cancer-free', and I actually moved to Phoenix, Arizona. During this time I was in physical therapy."

The trauma of the cancer, three surgeries, and the side effects of the radiation took a toll on Erica physically, and she now required the use of a walker. Despite all the treatments, her journey was far from over. "By the end of 2012, I started having those same type symptoms, and it terrified me all over again because I just knew that I was healed from cancer," she says. "You hear people talk about the peace that God gives you. I was completely unafraid of dying, and I was surrounded by death. I was in a support group at the Brain and Spine Center in Houston, and every week another one of my friends wasn't there. People from all over the country come to that place, and...they're not here today. It showed you how blessed you were for every single day that you had."

In 2012, Erica had another scan. This time cancer was ruled out. Tests showed a syrinx, a fluid-filled cavity from all the surgeries, where the tumor had been. Erica was elated to hear she didn't have cancer, but the biggest blow was yet to come. "I had surgery in Houston in 2012. I went to sleep as someone who could walk, and I woke up as someone who was paraplegic," she says in a halting voice. "When I woke up, they tested me and told me to wiggle my toes. I was like, 'I am'. My surgeon was very shocked that this happened. I spent the Christmas holidays and New Year's in the Acute Care ICU."\

Although thankful to be a cancer survivor, Erica wasn't yet ready to accept the hand she had been dealt."To see the wheelchair sitting next to your bed, and hear the therapist tell you, 'You need to identify that as part of your body now. That's your legs, that's an extension of your body now and you need to accept it'." Furrowing her brow she says, "I told my mom, 'I'm not leaving here in that thing. I'll walk,' but I was still in a positive frame of mind because I was just grateful to be alive."

Even with a positive attitude, acceptance didn't come overnight. "You feel so excluded from the world for awhile," Erica admits. "I was in a hotel room once, looking down from the 20th floor at the people outside, and I remember thinking, 'I used to be one of those people walking around on the sidewalk, going about their daily business, only concerned about what their next moment was. How am I going to integrate myself into life again?' "

In time Erica learned how to live with her disability. "Slowly I started to get more comfortable as being a person in a wheelchair, although I didn't think of myself in that way. It's like a brand new world, learning how to navigate with a disability. I feel so fortunate to have all he resources I needed," she says.

Erica Duncan was 30 years old when she was diagnosed with cancer. For someone who had been so healthy and athletic all her life, the news was especially shocking. "She had never been sick, never had pneumonia, never had stitches, never been to the hospital. She was perfectly healthy during her entire childhood," says Pam Duncan, Erica's mom. Five surgeries and dozens of treatments later, the young lady athlete who once destroyed softballs with an aluminum bat is no more. In her place is a fearless seasoned battle-scarred warrior who fought and slew the deadly Dragon of Cancer, a gladiator who faced the Lion of Death head on and lived to tell the tale.

Erica now dedicates her time to raising awareness of the importance of universal design, a term referring to the idea of producing buildings, products, and environments that are accessible to everyone, regardless of disabilities. The response so far has been encouraging. "The city council was so receptive when I called them about it. They took a little tour with me through town. They've been so supportive," she says."Before all of this I couldn't have told you what disability awareness was. I didn't know anything about curbs and ramps, structural barriers and accessibility, anything to do with a wheelchair," she says.

Though Erica loved her former job with Alabama Power, she now has a new purpose in life. "My job now is to heal and to help others," she says firmly. "God has made it very apparent what my purpose is in this world. I believe we all in some way have a purpose of sharing our gifts with others. I don't see people as 'us and them'. I just see 'us'."

Erica is also passionate about art. One of her first creations was inspired by the fact that there are as many neural connections in the human body as there are stars in the cosmos. That painting now hangs in the atrium of the Christopher Reeve Foundation.The entire experience has given her a fresh new perspective on life, one that she feels compelled to share with others. "I just want my message to encourage people to live each day with gratitude, because you never know when you won't wake up the next day, or your life could be completely changed," she says.

Then, with a few of her "dessert" fries still untouched, Erica leans forward in her chair and her angelic face is now radiant with inner joy as she utters the next words. "I don't view cancer as a negative event in my life. I view cancer as the greatest blessing. I wouldn't change the experience because it has made me be my most authentic genuine self. I want everyone to know how magnificent and what a miracle they are, and that in the eyes of God we are all worthy and loved. I would love a world where we woke up knowing that every single day."

Diamond girl, you sure do shine.

One thing Erica feels very strongly about is the role her family and friends have played in her journey. "Without the support of my family, my friends and my community, there would be no me," she says. 78.

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