Carry On Warrior

The definition of fortitude is persevering into the face of adversity with courage.

My friend, brother, and fellow warrior Jason Baker passed away this past Wednesday.
It was, by no means unexpected. He had been battling Metastatic Lung Cancer for several years and he went into hospice last week.

Jason and I were introduced to each other in October of 2016 by Kelly Fox.
He was freshly diagnosed with the exact same disease as I had been in May 2015.

Kelly asked me if I could give him a call and perhaps provide some encouragement and possibly some direction in navigating his new landscape.

I was 1.5 years into my cancer journey and at this point I had sorted out several key things.

I called Jason the same day. Not sure if we connected right away but I know we spoke to each other pretty soon after.  I wasn’t totally sure what I was going to say to him but I figured I would follow my heart; maybe just tell him all the things I wished somebody had told me in the beginning of my journey.

We talked for about 40 minutes. He was still stunned. I’m sure some of the things I said blew right past him. I know personally my whole first month of diagnosis is a blur and I remember very little.

Something happened that day for me though.
It was the first time I had personally spoken to another man going through exactly what I was going through, there was a comfort in that.
For the first time since I was diagnosed I was talking to somebody who could truly understand how fucked this situation was. He had the ability to empathize more than any other person walking on this planet, and now we were “cancer buddies”.
As I hung up the phone I felt like my conversation with Jason had been as beneficial to me as it may have been to him.
...And so began our friendship.

Over the next couple of years there were lots of text messages and phone calls.
Jason always had a good attitude and despite many setbacks he never complained.

Jason was always “sicker” than I.  He had a lot of problems with fluid build up on his lungs. 
He had to use oxygen most of the time. Additionally, his treatment tore him up with side effects.  But he didn’t complain. He just told me about them matter of factly, then we discussed ways to possibly mitigate them or to make things just a little better.  
I prayed for things to take a turn for Jason. That significant turn never came.


I had the honor of flying over to Great Falls a couple of years ago with brother Fox, specifically to pay Jason a visit.  There he was in the flesh: Metallica T-shirt, scally cap, O2 tank. We had a great visit with Jason and we were both inspired and encouraged. There was comfort in hugging him and telling him that I loved him like the brother that he had become to me.

That visit was in the Winter of 2017 and it coincided with Senate Bill 72 being shot down by the Montana Legislature.  I was eating breakfast with Jason when we got the news.

The disappointment at the table was palpable.

The fight for presumptive legislation was nothing new to Jason. 
He had been fighting for the rights of firefighters for many years before his own cancer diagnosis.

It just hurt that much more with the current circumstances.

Jason had become a bit of a celebrity in the Great Falls area. He was known for his cancer diagnosis and for his efforts to help move presumptive legislation forward in Montana.  

Jason was not able to be the beneficiary of that type of law like I was in Washington State.  It is ironic that at the same time we lose Jason it looks very good for Senate Bill 160 to be passed into law. Almost exactly 2 years after that 2017 visit.  

I really wish Jason would have lived long enough to see that.

2 weeks ago I was invited to Helena to speak to Montana Firefighters about my story and to additionally meet lawmakers who would soon be voting on SB 160. Jason was originally scheduled to present with me, but he was unable to because he wasn’t feeling well, in fact he was unable to attend at all. 
Here is the regretful part...
I flew in and out to do the presentation; I was in Montana only 22 hours.
I should have driven to Great Falls and seen him. For fucks sakes I was right there.
But none of us knew how sick Jason was. It was only days later that he was admitted to the hospital and an MRI showed the cancer had spread to the fluid surrounding his brain, and into his cervical vertebrae. There were no good treatment options except managing his pain and keeping him comfortable.


I will have to live with that one.

I got the news about Jason last Wednesday morning.
I was on a snowboarding trip in the Canadian Rockies. We were just starting our day at Revelstoke.  In the first hour of our day I got several text messages from brothers and sisters inquiring about “how I was doing?”  
“Pretty fucking great!” was one response with a photo from inside the gondola.  

Eventually I got a text from Kelly Fox, the person who had introduced Jason and I.  

“Not sure if you heard yet, but Jason Baker passed away this am.”  
I took the news in, and initially processed what I had just read.
Now the text messages made sense.  
They were probing, checking to see if I had heard.  
I’m sure on the other end of things there was a bit of a scramble. 
I don’t think anybody wanted to be the person to tell me.  
Kelly was the right person.

I communicated the news to my ski partners.
I then stepped off of the Gondola to an amazing view of the Canadian Rockies.
I breathed in the cold, lung burning air and thanked God for such a glorious moment.

I 100% believe I was in the right spot to get the news: in the mountains under a glorious rocky mountain sky, with friends, finding my freedom and living life as hard as I possibly can.
The last time I spoke with Jason he seemed to be at peace.
In that moment on the mountain I was at peace as well.  
I did not cry (although I am on the verge of tears right now).
I did my heavy crying when Jason went into the hospital, when he went into hospice and when we spoke on the phone.

Every phone conversation that Jason and I had ever had always was filled with “Warrior Talk”. Keep fighting, throat punches, fuck cancer, etc... until February 10th.
That night I spoke with a man who was no longer fighting, he had accepted that there were no other good treatment options. He had 100% confidence in his care team, and his new goal was to get well enough to be able to return to home hospice to live out his days.

That goal did not come to fruition. Jason’s condition required a higher level of care than was able to be delivered at home.  His family didn’t need to be running around being caregivers. They needed to focus on being with Jason, saying the things that needed to be said and “just being”

This was hands down one of the hardest conversations I have ever had.
We both cried, we told each other that we loved each other.
Jason had dignity above all else. He was showing me how its done.
Eventually it will be my time, I want to be as settled as Jason when I arrive there.

Life circumstances kept me from immediately traveling to Montana when Jason went into the hospital but my initial emotional response was to go right away.
There were work responsibilities, as well as a snowstorm that paralyzed the area.
Then there was a family ski trip on the books and also my Canadian Rockies Odyssey.
I knew Jason would have been pissed if I had cancelled either ski trip to come to Montana.
My plan was to return to Seattle from Canada on Friday the 22nd and I would be on a plane the next morning to Great Falls to see him on the 23rd.

Jason succumbed before that plan could be executed.
I have to believe that It worked out the way it was supposed to.
Jason wouldn’t want me second guessing myself.

Jason’s memorial service is next Tuesday.
I will not be attending.
I need to guard my own heart, it’s just too close.
Too many parallels.
No disrespect, just can’t do it.

I would be reeling for weeks.

Jason would understand, in fact he would probably tell me to go do something that feeds my soul and touches my version of freedom instead.
I communicated with Jill about this and she, Peyton and Porter completely understand.  

I’m sure all of Jason’s brothers and sisters understand as well

In closing I want to be clear.
Jason did not lose the fight.
Cancer doesn’t give a fuck how hard you fight.
It is an indiscriminate bastard who eventually takes what he wants.
People like Jason and I, and the 250,000 newly diagnosied with lung cancer every year, need to place hope that funding and research will continue to chip away at the power of lung cancer and eventually crush it.

Jason was a warrior. He wore it proudly with the tattoo that Peyton designed.

He approached this with courage, class, and dignity.
Jason Baker leaves behind a legacy.
His legacy is in every person that he touched.I am a better man having known him.

“Jason didn’t die with regrets because he said what needed to be said and lived honestly. He didn’t have unfinished business and told a nurse who asked him what he wanted to have done, “I’ve done it.” He only held on as long as he did to be with his loved ones.

During his last two years, Jason said that as a firefighter one of the strengths he developed is being able to adapt to rapidly changing conditions. He knew courage can look like running into a burning building, but it also can look like getting up every day and fighting cancer. Courage can be continuing treatments that are painful and sickening. Courage can be taking another ride on the motorcycle or grilling dinner for your kids when all you want to do is collapse.”

-Jason Robert Baker Obituary

SB 160 should be renamed “The Baker Bill”

I am a Warrior
I am a Thrivor
I am the Exception
I Choose the Miracle

Prayer requests are for Jason's friends and family.