"Cheering" for John Morris. BISON!
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Three years ago, John Morris, our former Howard University Cheer Coach and friend, was diagnosed with ALS. For the last three years, John has endured a variety of cruel challenges - medical, financial and emotional. I want to share a Facebook post from John because his own words are for more powerful than anything I could write right now. John always demanded that we put our absolute best food forward - as fierce and flawless as possible, with our heads held high. Let's help him do the same!
From John: Long post...On this day, 3 years ago, my life, permanently changed. It was destroyed. Ruined. Over. My doctor held my hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You have ALS.” I stared into her eyes, and said, “What are we going to do about it?” Before she could part her lips, I looked towards the ceiling, and said, angrily, “It’s because I didn’t do that motherf*#%@/g Ice Bucket Challenge, but I helped someone do it!” The tone was such, that I startled the nurses in the area, and they immediately began to say, “No, no, no, that’s not true, that’s not why.” The were shaken. They thought I was about to act a fool. I never left my seat. Then, I began laughing. I looked toward the ceiling again and said, “Really?”
I never asked God why he inflicted me with this (although I did question his selection of inflictions) - that’s a whole, separate chapter. I asked him, “Why, now?” I was at the pinnacle of my career. A place and level I never dreamed of being, and was loving life. I was in carpe diem
mode. Blinders on, with pageant fitness training, training the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders, judging pageants, countless DIY projects, making my house a home and speaking with investors about opening my own studio. I was riding the wave of being recognized as the top pageant fitness trainer (from two different organizations) - 2015, 2016, 2017. And then, I was stopped in my tracks. By January 2018, I was financially ruined. A small, overlooked law when accessing your social security benefits, is a 5 month waiting period. I had no income for 5 months. It was the darkest time, at every level. I ended up needing antidepressant medication and therapy. My health, was not the priority it should have been. A roof over my head, food, gas, electricity, water. The bare necessities were all I wanted. December 2017, besides planning the murder of two people, while traveling 95 south, headed to Hampton, VA, to be with family, was not in my plans. I’d planned on not making it there. I was in full suicide mode. I was broke, and broken. I was behind the wheel of my car searching for the perfect place to intentionally drive off the side of road, into the woods, and end it all then and there. Honestly, I was too afraid to do it. I told myself that with my luck, I’d survive and become a quadriplegic, and be in far worse condition. I never found that place. My life continued its downward spiral. May 2018, I’m served foreclosure papers. I thought, “Great, I have this fatal disease and I’m about to become homeless.” Could it get any worse? Yes, it could. One year later, my gas (used for cooking and heating my home), was shut off. No heat or gas from May 2019-May 2020. Between that time, January 24, 2020, I sat upstairs in my bedroom window, at 4:30AM, and literally watched the tow truck take my vehicle. My car was being repossessed. I asked God, in tears and no will left, “When will this be over?” I kept myself immersed in DIY projects for a distraction and therapy. I was creating the beautiful things I’d missed in my life. Projects involving vibrant colors and lots of “bling and sparkles.” It brought joy.
Here I am, June 16, 2020. The third year of a fatal disease that has a life expectancy of 3-5 years. I’m, surviving. I’m not living. This, is not life. I don’t know why I’m still here.
But at the very least, I can breathe.
John A. Morris
Surviving
From John: Long post...On this day, 3 years ago, my life, permanently changed. It was destroyed. Ruined. Over. My doctor held my hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You have ALS.” I stared into her eyes, and said, “What are we going to do about it?” Before she could part her lips, I looked towards the ceiling, and said, angrily, “It’s because I didn’t do that motherf*#%@/g Ice Bucket Challenge, but I helped someone do it!” The tone was such, that I startled the nurses in the area, and they immediately began to say, “No, no, no, that’s not true, that’s not why.” The were shaken. They thought I was about to act a fool. I never left my seat. Then, I began laughing. I looked toward the ceiling again and said, “Really?”
I never asked God why he inflicted me with this (although I did question his selection of inflictions) - that’s a whole, separate chapter. I asked him, “Why, now?” I was at the pinnacle of my career. A place and level I never dreamed of being, and was loving life. I was in carpe diem
mode. Blinders on, with pageant fitness training, training the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders, judging pageants, countless DIY projects, making my house a home and speaking with investors about opening my own studio. I was riding the wave of being recognized as the top pageant fitness trainer (from two different organizations) - 2015, 2016, 2017. And then, I was stopped in my tracks. By January 2018, I was financially ruined. A small, overlooked law when accessing your social security benefits, is a 5 month waiting period. I had no income for 5 months. It was the darkest time, at every level. I ended up needing antidepressant medication and therapy. My health, was not the priority it should have been. A roof over my head, food, gas, electricity, water. The bare necessities were all I wanted. December 2017, besides planning the murder of two people, while traveling 95 south, headed to Hampton, VA, to be with family, was not in my plans. I’d planned on not making it there. I was in full suicide mode. I was broke, and broken. I was behind the wheel of my car searching for the perfect place to intentionally drive off the side of road, into the woods, and end it all then and there. Honestly, I was too afraid to do it. I told myself that with my luck, I’d survive and become a quadriplegic, and be in far worse condition. I never found that place. My life continued its downward spiral. May 2018, I’m served foreclosure papers. I thought, “Great, I have this fatal disease and I’m about to become homeless.” Could it get any worse? Yes, it could. One year later, my gas (used for cooking and heating my home), was shut off. No heat or gas from May 2019-May 2020. Between that time, January 24, 2020, I sat upstairs in my bedroom window, at 4:30AM, and literally watched the tow truck take my vehicle. My car was being repossessed. I asked God, in tears and no will left, “When will this be over?” I kept myself immersed in DIY projects for a distraction and therapy. I was creating the beautiful things I’d missed in my life. Projects involving vibrant colors and lots of “bling and sparkles.” It brought joy.
Here I am, June 16, 2020. The third year of a fatal disease that has a life expectancy of 3-5 years. I’m, surviving. I’m not living. This, is not life. I don’t know why I’m still here.
But at the very least, I can breathe.
John A. Morris
Surviving
Organizer
Necole Beard Simmonds
Organizer
Midlothian, VA