NEWS

With Marshfield's support, teen kicks cancer

Mitchell A. Skurzewski
USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin
Ryan Dieringer covers his heart during the playing of the National Anthem at the beginning of the Columbus Catholic game against Athens March 1, 2016. Dieringer attended the game to cheer on his team after a year-long battle with cancer that ended when he was given a diagnosis of "no evidence of disease."

MARSHFIELD - It started with a box on the corner of the dining room table. Soon it was the entire table. Shortly into Ryan Dieringer's cancer treatments, his family realized the space they'd allotted for all of the shirts and gifts Ryan was receiving wouldn't be nearly enough.

Ryan, 17, is still getting gifts. Over the last 10-plus months, he has been an inspiration not just to his family, friends and to classmates at Marshfield Columbus Catholic High School, but to people all over the U.S. and beyond.

Ryan Dieringer sits at his kitchen table with a small fraction of the gifts given to him during his 11-month experience with cancer. In late February he was declared to have "no evidence of disease."

It has been a turbulent yet triumphant time for Ryan. He learned he had cancer, toughed out 17 chemotherapy treatments, missed school and basically lived at the Northwestern Medicine Chicago Proton Center for the past fall. He lost his hair, missed a season of soccer, lost weight and his endurance was zapped.

But Ryan is still standing and still smiling. In late February, the Dieringers received the best news they could have hoped for: Ryan won his fight; his scans showed "No Evidence of Disease."

"To hear them say it, that I was N.E.D., was like a dream come true," Ryan said. "Just relief, like a weight off my shoulders."

Now he has one hope: to return to being a "normal" teenager. He has almost forgotten what that is like.

Life-changing diagnosis

The first signs that Ryan's life was about to change came in March 2015, when he was in Madison to watch the WIAA Boys State Basketball Tournament with his dad, Derek, and his younger brother Evan, 15.

Ryan, who was then a sophomore at Columbus Catholic, felt a sharp pain in his left hip and was having trouble getting around. Derek took his son to urgent care, but medical staff couldn't find the source of the pain, and by that Friday afternoon Ryan was in the emergency room. A battery of tests couldn't find the problem. Ryan sent a text to his mother, Becky, who was coming down to meet her family, and told her to bring Advil.

"I knew it had to be bad," Becky said, "because Ryan doesn't take any pain medication."

Dieringer bounces a basketball at the conclusion of practice March 2, 2016.  He received his "no evidence of disease"  for his cancer less than a week, but Dieringer plans to build back up to being the three-sport athlete he was 11 months ago.

By Saturday morning, Ryan was in intense pain and walking with a significant limp. They were driving back to Marshfield when Ryan said the word.

"It was about 5 a.m. and he asked me, 'Do you know what you get when you Google hip pain and teen boys?'" Becky recalled.

Cancer.

Becky made an appointment with Dr. Laurel Rudolph of Marshfield Clinic the following Tuesday. Derek Dieringer recalled Rudolph's immediate observation: Three-sport athletes like Ryan don't leave the state basketball tournament for something minor like a muscle pull.

"I talked to a radiologist and said, 'I need an MRI,'" Rudolph said. "I didn't know if it was bone or nerve, but it was bad."

That's when doctors found a tumor on Ryan's sacrum, a triangle-shaped bone at the bottom of the spine.

The Dieringers traveled from their Hewitt home to Madison for the biopsy. The doctors there were relatively convinced it was a cyst, and they removed it and packed it with bone chips, performing a bone graft.

On April 23, Ryan received a diagnosis of Ewing's sarcoma, a rare type of cancer that is identified about 200 times a year and mostly affects children and adolescents.

"Not knowing was the hardest," Derek Dieringer said. "From the time he had the pain to when doctors found a tumor was incredibly difficult. The diagnosis was hard, but at least then you had a plan. We were in for X rounds of chemo and we could formulate a plan."

Ryan's fight

Every day for 28 days, Ryan was lined up on the examination table with dot tattoos on his neck, hips and back. Lasers were on the wall. Once positioned, doctors made sure everything was aligned correctly and took a quick X-ray. Ryan had to lay completely still.

Then proton therapy would begin. Many adolescents need to be sedated for this because they get too worked up and can't sit still. Not Ryan. He was focused on one thing: beating cancer. He'd do whatever it took.

"It's kind of surreal when (the diagnosis) happens, but it does and you just kind of put your foot forward and keep moving through," he said. "When I finished (with the treatments) it was one of the happiest days of my life."

Ryan received chemotherapy, radiation and also went for proton therapy at the Northwestern center in Warrenville, about 10 minutes from Becky's parents' house in Naperville, a southwestern suburb of Chicago.

There are just 14 proton centers in the country, and only 20 percent of cancer patients, based on the location or type of the tumor, qualify for the treatment. Ryan qualified. His radiation schedule was 28 treatments, one each day from Monday through Friday. When Ryan received chemo, he and his mother stayed at the hospital. In his off weeks, when he received only radiation, they stayed with Becky's parents.

Derek would stay home with Evan. It was difficult, but they wanted Evan to have as normal a high school experience as possible. Derek and Evan would visit Ryan on the weekends. As much as they wanted to have fun, Ryan's absence lingered over them.

"It was weird because we would be around a campfire with friends and you'd try to have things be as normal as possible for Evan, but ... a few hours away your son is going through chemo," Derek said.

An outpouring for RPDstrong

During Ryan's battle with Ewing's sarcoma, his physician Dr. Rudolph sparked what turned out to be a huge demonstration of support for him. She asked local schools to send Ryan a T-shirt to show their support for him. His parents also started a Facebook page, RPDstrong — RPD for Ryan Patrick Dieringer — as a way to help keep friends, family and the community up to date on Ryan's status.

Ryan started receiving shirts from high schools, then from colleges, and from there it grew.

Ryan Dieringer, of Marshfield, runs Saturday during the Nutz Deep run fundraising event in Marshfield this summer.

"I wanted a way to distract him from his chemo, so I started talking to people and it really kind of went viral," Rudolph said. "Next thing you know, we were getting shirts from hospitals and all over the place."

He received a "1 million 4 Anna" shirt from a family who had lost their 18-year-old daughter, Anna Basso, to Ewing's sarcoma after an 18-month fight. He received a bobblehead from Sydney's Incredible Defeat of Ewing's Sarcoma. Sydney Lister, who defeated Ewing's sarcoma, is now healthy and attending Florida State University. The Wisconsin Badgers men's basketball team sent a signed basketball. USA National Soccer team goalie Tim Howard sent a personalized 16-second video.

Ryan's favorite: an autographed photo from Anthony Rizzo, a first baseman on Ryan's favorite team, the Chicago Cubs, that read, "Stay strong, Ryan."

"I never expected so many people to follow me," Ryan said. "Other schools, other communities put together events to support me. It was crazy to see.

"I don't like being the center of attention. But it's cool to see it's raising awareness and it brings people together in support of me and others trying to fight this."

Despite all of the treatments, Ryan made it back to soccer practice in the fall and basketball practice as much as he could just to be around his classmates and teammates. When he couldn't exert himself physically, he did other jobs such as running the clock or rebounding for his teammates, said Columbus Catholic basketball coach Joe Konieczny.

As Ryan neared the end of his chemotherapy in February, he had some of the roughest days, as his white and red blood cell counts were down and his platelet count was so low that he needed blood transfusions. But days later all his counts were up and that meant no more shots. After every round of chemo, Ryan had to get a daily shot of filgrastim — a drug that stimulates the bone marrow to produce white blood cells — until his body started creating white blood cells on its own.

Ryan Dieringer laughs while his teammates on the bench cheer on their ensuing victory over Athens at the home game March 1, 2016. 17 chemotherapy sessions later, Dieringer was on the bench with his team for the first time in nearly one year after his battle with cancer ended with "no evidence of disease."

On Feb. 23, the Dieringers waited for Dr. Michael McManus of Marshfield Clinic to share with them the scans after Ryan's final chemotherapy session. It didn't take long after he entered for elation to fill the room. Ryan said Feb. 23 will forever be "one of the greatest days of his life."

Three days later, Konieczny spoke in front of the entire Columbus Catholic school to announce Ryan's clear scans and his N.E.D. prognosis. Kids wore shirts emblazoned with "17-0" to represent Ryan's 17 rounds of chemo and his victories.

"The days you are (at practice), there is something extra; the days you are not, there is something missing," Konieczny said to Ryan.

In one of the final regular season games, dubbed Hoops for Hope, a fundraiser for Ryan and Owen-Withee's Will Maki — who is in his own fight with bone cancer — Ryan even got some playing action in a basketball game.

"It was probably as nervous as I have ever been in a game," he said.

Ryan's way forward

Ryan hit the stop button on the treadmill. He was in pain. He sat on the floor. His mind raced.

"You don't want to think of what it might be, if your cancer is back," Ryan said. "The scans are all clear, but you can't help but think about it."

There is a worry that will always be there. That the cancer comes back. Ewing's sarcoma has a high rate of recurrence. But Ryan and his family don't want to worry about that now.

Dieringer sits and watches his teammates blur by while running drills March 2, 2016. Since his cancer diagnosis, he has not been able to practice every day with his teammates, however since learning in February that he has "no evidence of disease," he plans to begin working back to being as athletic as he once was.

"He will have scans every three months the first three years, then every six months," Derek said. "Right now we're just super happy he's done. You could be paralyzed by fear of the unknown, or choose to live your life and deal with it if it comes back. That's the attitude we're trying to take."

Despite the grueling nature of chemotherapy and all Ryan had to go through, his positive attitude never waned, his parents said. One example: Ryan was shooting baskets randomly and wouldn't quit until he made three in a row. Coach Konieczny walked in and saw this and rebounded for him. When Ryan finally made his third in a row, he fell to the floor, half happiness, half exhaustion. He looked at his coach and said, "Don't tell my parents. They have enough to worry about." That attitude and humbleness is why so many people have rallied around Ryan.

"You never say or think something good can come out of a situation like this," Konieczny said. "If there was a kid who would go through something like this and be OK, it's Ryan. And to see this school and community come together and rally around Ryan has really been something special."

Now Ryan eagerly awaits a return to normalcy. He already knows he's playing his senior year of soccer this fall.

"You never realize how much you miss school until something like this," Ryan said. "You miss your friends. It feels good, to be getting back to being a normal kid again."

Mitchell A. Skurzewski: 715-898-7006 or Mitchell.skurzewski@gannettwisconsin.com; on Twitter @MSkurzewski