His battle was hers

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His battle was hers

In his fight with cancer, Roth was never alone. Even when he was. SAN ANTONIO -- Roth had a simple Christmas; at home with his

mom and dad and his older brother who flew in from New Jersey, sharing

good food, playing outside with his golden retriever, Callie. The Roth

home is set far back off a dirt road in San . It's serene and

smells of burned leaves and earth. , who is 14, likes being

outside, breathing deep under a blue sky. It's pure, he says.

He doesn't want people stressed over the holidays. There will be burned

turkeys. There will be casseroles that slip and crash to the floor.

There will be old anger, old resentment. None of that really matters. "It's all just noise," says.

is about 5 feet tall and weighs less than a hundred pounds. He

has thick, wavy brown hair, a dimple in his chin and blue eyes that

look at you in a way a psychologist many years his senior would:

piercing, studying, patient. He listens. He expresses his thoughts

sincerely and with eloquence beyond his age. He feels very old.

When was 9, he went to the doctor because of an aching leg. He

was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma, a cancer that invades one child out

of 50,000. He spent a year in and out of St. ph's Children's

Hospital in Tampa, an hour's drive from home. During that year, he

learned of pain and God and love. He had six different types

of chemotherapy, injected into him once every three weeks. He had

several surgeries. He threw up so much he felt like he had a callus on

his throat. The chemo gave him mouth sores that burned. He had trouble

remembering things. A few good friends kept in touch, but life went on

without him. was frail and lost his hair. He made new friends in

the cancer ward and at a camp just for kids with cancer. He learned not

all kids survive. Between treatments, could go home for

a few days. But if he had a fever, his parents had to race him back to

the hospital, which happened often as the poisonous chemotherapy

stripped his immune system. 's dog, Callie, knew in advance when a

fever was coming. She would put her head in his lap and follow him and

not let him out of her sight. If the fever came at night, Callie would

nudge 's parents, and Lynn, until they woke up.

When was at the hospital throwing up, Callie was at home throwing

up. The vet said that some dogs are so attuned with their owners that

they take on their symptoms. When was gone, she dragged her feet,

tail between her legs, head down, and looked awful. 's doctor

prescribed dog visits. So, on Sunday afternoons, or Lynn

would pack Callie in the car and take her to the hospital. was

wheeled out on a patio and there the two would embrace. Callie was the

only one who never treated differently, as people did, with pity

or hesitant stammers. was the one who begged for a dog

and, in 2000 when he was 7, his parents got Callie, who was eight weeks

old. He named her and cared for her. They acted out plays and movie

scripts in the acres outside their house. They are each other's worlds.

So it made sense that they did not fare well being apart.

has been free of cancer for four years now. He gets checked every

three months. His mom feels like there is a monster locked in a closet,

and you can never rest because that monster might break free any

moment. Once, when was in the hospital, he talked on

the phone with a friend who chatted about his plans for the summer.

was quiet, listened and then said goodbye. His dad asked him what

was wrong. said, "We think we know what's going to happen

tomorrow, but we don't." That feeling has become a core of the family -

treat people well, don't let arguments simmer, do the things you want

to do TODAY because you just never know. gets panicky if he has

cross words with a friend and doesn't get it settled that day. He

worries he or that friend might die before they see each other again.

He can't stand the chatter at school. People get upset about stupid,

tiny things. He is grateful for his perspective. But, sometimes he is

jealous of his classmates. He never feels carefree. About two

years ago, told his parents that the cancer did more good things

for him than bad. He has empathy. He works with special needs kids at

his school every day. He raises money for cancer research. He says he believes in God and that he was never angry with Him because of the cancer.

"Never in treatment was there a time when I didn't know there was a

God," he says. "He gave me challenges, but He always gave me the tools

and equipment to have the capacity to succeed. "People do lose the fight and they do die. But there is no doubt in my mind that God was with them all the way."

feels good physically. He's nearly a black belt in karate. The

cancer could come back. He says he's not afraid of dying. Callie sleeps

at his door every night, still watching out for him. Sullivan can be reached at esullivan@... or 813 909-4609.His battle was hersIn his fight with cancer, Roth was never alone. Even when he was.By ERIN SULLIVAN, Times Staff WriterPublished December 30, 2007 Roth and Callie play in their San yard. The family gotCallie in 2000, before started to have the pain that turned outto be Ewing's sarcoma. Through 's cancer battle, Callie would takeon his symptoms: When he threw up from chemo, the dog did, too. [Zach Boyden-Holmes | Times] ADVERTISEMENT [Roth family] Callie would know when was sick and would even let his parentsknow when he had a potentially life-threatening fever. [Zach Boyden-Holmes | Times] Roth has been cancer-free for four years. He says the cancer gave him a better perspective on life.