Doctor given life-saving medical equipment at the South Pole visits McChord to say 'thanks'
MCCHORD AIR FORCE BASE, Wash. (USTCNS) --- Jerri Nielsen had seen them before, tiny images a thousand feet away, fuzzy silhouettes framed by the open door in a passing aircraft. That encounter last July, amid subzero temperatures in the Antarctic night, provided little opportunity to properly say thanks.
Under clear skies and 70-degree temperatures June 23 at McChord Air Force Base, Wash., the former National Science Foundation doctor made up for lost time.
In an emotional meeting lasting more than an hour, Nielsen and her parents stood face to face with the two dozen Air Force men and women she credits with having saved her life, greeting each with a handshake and words of praise for their daring flight over the South Pole.
That flight, thought to be impossible due to the frigid conditions of the Antarctic winter, delivered equipment and lifesaving medical supplies to Amudsen-Scott South Pole Station, where Nielsen worked as the medical officer for 41 NSF scientists.
In addition to an ultrasound machine, the supplies included chemotherapy drugs, which were used to treat Nielsen's recently discovered breast cancer. As the world watched through the cameras of a CBS crew on board the McChord C-141 Starlifter, the airmen delivered the supplies on target, without incident.
While the ultrasound machine did not survive the 1,000-foot drop from the plane, Nielsen said the chemo drugs, without question, saved her life.
"I know it was a dangerous mission, and I'd just like to say thanks," she told the group. "I truly believe that without the airdrop I wouldn't have survived."
Nielsen's comments were followed by similar remarks from her parents, Phil and Lorine Cahill. Lorine made a brief statement to the group, thanking each of them for their efforts, but Phil failed to get a word out, the emotions of the moment taking over. Later, the World War II veteran addressed the group again.
"I can't thank you enough," he said. "If it hadn't been for you, Jerri would be either dying a horrible death, or already dead. You enabled her to keep the tumor down to where she could get out of there and get operated on.
"We knew no one could go in there, and no one could get us any help. But you proved us wrong. You did go in there, and you did help her."
With the chemotherapy drugs holding the tumor at bay, Nielsen was picked up from Amudsen-Scott by a New York Air National Guard C-130 Oct. 16. Shortly after, the lump was removed, and no signs of the cancer have been discovered since.
Moments after the meeting with the crew of the flight, Nielsen spoke publicly for the first time about the ordeal. It is a story filled with ironic twists and turns, a "made for Hollywood" tale of lost hope and impossible odds.
A graduate of the Medical College of Ohio at Toledo, Nielsen accepted the position as the station's lone medical officer with the knowledge that it was not an ordinary job.
The devastating Antarctic winter, lasting from mid February to early November, prevents any aircraft from flying in or out of the region. Being the only medical officer in the camp can be a special challenge - a Russian doctor at a South Pole camp was forced to remove his own appendix in 1961, using only a scalpel and a mirror.
"I was told when I accepted the mission that there was no way out," she said. "If something happened to one of the people there and they were terribly injured or sick, there would be no way to get any help, no way to get them out. I would have to be the sole provider of medical care for them throughout the whole winter - eight months. I accepted that as the way it was.
"So when I became ill, I didn't expect anything different to happen for me, and I didn't expect anyone to risk their life to save me. I had accepted the consequences."
Having received the devastating news from their daughter, Phil and Lorine began to prepare for the worst - that if they saw their Jerri alive again, she would likely be in grave condition, with little hope for recovery.
"I remember writing to her on e-mail, telling her that we'd make it the best we can," Lorine said. "I had it figured out that I would put her on a bed in a room where I could take care of the IVs, and that I would make her as comfortable as possible until she died."
Having diagnosed the tumor as a very aggressive form of cancer, Nielsen had little hope for recovery. Initially, stateside doctors agreed but soon began to speak of a possible emergency flight, delivering the needed medical supplies to control the tumor. Behind the scenes, officials from the Department of Defense and the NSF began to work out a plan in which an Air Force plane would deliver the goods.
On July 9, the C-141, loaded with the precious cargo of lifesaving supplies, departed McChord enroute to Hickam AFB, Hawaii, New Zealand, and then the South Pole.
Nielsen was originally not in favor of the flight - the thought of risking lives when her own recovery was doubtful just didn't make sense.
"My doctors told me that I probably wouldn't survive, so I didn't want to risk anyone's life if there wasn't a chance of me surviving anyway," she said. "But then they told me I might have a chance to live if the right medicine got to me."
With the CBS crew filming, the C-141 followed a series of fires set by NSF scientists to lead the way. Seeing the fires on network television back in Ohio, Lorine shed tears of joy.
While the aircrew could see little more than the fires below, the men and women of Amudsen-Scott had a front row seat to the operation.
"Inside the plane was lit, and we could see them," Nielsen said. "We could see their figures and their faces. We were all waving and screaming. Of course they couldn't see us. We were in the total, pitch black darkness."
Besides the critical chemotherapy drugs and the ultrasound machine, Nielsen said, the bundles also included microscopes, cameras, cards, letters and flowers from the aircrew, and fresh fruit.
"We just went insane over the fresh fruit," she added.
The doctor still has pieces of the cardboard boxes that members of the aircrew signed, she said.
A year later, finished with the treatment and cancer-free, Nielsen and her parents were special guests of the 62nd Airlift Wing at McChord's Air Expo 2000, celebrating the 60th anniversary of the base. As the family took in the sights and sounds of the aircraft performing on the flightline, the doctor spoke of the special conditions of the trip.
"My parents had one simple request," she said. "They wanted to be here at McChord when I said thanks. These men and women are special heroes, and we'll always be grateful for what they did for us." (FROM AIR MOBILITY COMMAND PUBLIC AFFAIRS).
Under clear skies and 70-degree temperatures June 23 at McChord Air Force Base, Wash., the former National Science Foundation doctor made up for lost time.
In an emotional meeting lasting more than an hour, Nielsen and her parents stood face to face with the two dozen Air Force men and women she credits with having saved her life, greeting each with a handshake and words of praise for their daring flight over the South Pole.
That flight, thought to be impossible due to the frigid conditions of the Antarctic winter, delivered equipment and lifesaving medical supplies to Amudsen-Scott South Pole Station, where Nielsen worked as the medical officer for 41 NSF scientists.
In addition to an ultrasound machine, the supplies included chemotherapy drugs, which were used to treat Nielsen's recently discovered breast cancer. As the world watched through the cameras of a CBS crew on board the McChord C-141 Starlifter, the airmen delivered the supplies on target, without incident.
While the ultrasound machine did not survive the 1,000-foot drop from the plane, Nielsen said the chemo drugs, without question, saved her life.
"I know it was a dangerous mission, and I'd just like to say thanks," she told the group. "I truly believe that without the airdrop I wouldn't have survived."
Nielsen's comments were followed by similar remarks from her parents, Phil and Lorine Cahill. Lorine made a brief statement to the group, thanking each of them for their efforts, but Phil failed to get a word out, the emotions of the moment taking over. Later, the World War II veteran addressed the group again.
"I can't thank you enough," he said. "If it hadn't been for you, Jerri would be either dying a horrible death, or already dead. You enabled her to keep the tumor down to where she could get out of there and get operated on.
"We knew no one could go in there, and no one could get us any help. But you proved us wrong. You did go in there, and you did help her."
With the chemotherapy drugs holding the tumor at bay, Nielsen was picked up from Amudsen-Scott by a New York Air National Guard C-130 Oct. 16. Shortly after, the lump was removed, and no signs of the cancer have been discovered since.
Moments after the meeting with the crew of the flight, Nielsen spoke publicly for the first time about the ordeal. It is a story filled with ironic twists and turns, a "made for Hollywood" tale of lost hope and impossible odds.
A graduate of the Medical College of Ohio at Toledo, Nielsen accepted the position as the station's lone medical officer with the knowledge that it was not an ordinary job.
The devastating Antarctic winter, lasting from mid February to early November, prevents any aircraft from flying in or out of the region. Being the only medical officer in the camp can be a special challenge - a Russian doctor at a South Pole camp was forced to remove his own appendix in 1961, using only a scalpel and a mirror.
"I was told when I accepted the mission that there was no way out," she said. "If something happened to one of the people there and they were terribly injured or sick, there would be no way to get any help, no way to get them out. I would have to be the sole provider of medical care for them throughout the whole winter - eight months. I accepted that as the way it was.
"So when I became ill, I didn't expect anything different to happen for me, and I didn't expect anyone to risk their life to save me. I had accepted the consequences."
Having received the devastating news from their daughter, Phil and Lorine began to prepare for the worst - that if they saw their Jerri alive again, she would likely be in grave condition, with little hope for recovery.
"I remember writing to her on e-mail, telling her that we'd make it the best we can," Lorine said. "I had it figured out that I would put her on a bed in a room where I could take care of the IVs, and that I would make her as comfortable as possible until she died."
Having diagnosed the tumor as a very aggressive form of cancer, Nielsen had little hope for recovery. Initially, stateside doctors agreed but soon began to speak of a possible emergency flight, delivering the needed medical supplies to control the tumor. Behind the scenes, officials from the Department of Defense and the NSF began to work out a plan in which an Air Force plane would deliver the goods.
On July 9, the C-141, loaded with the precious cargo of lifesaving supplies, departed McChord enroute to Hickam AFB, Hawaii, New Zealand, and then the South Pole.
Nielsen was originally not in favor of the flight - the thought of risking lives when her own recovery was doubtful just didn't make sense.
"My doctors told me that I probably wouldn't survive, so I didn't want to risk anyone's life if there wasn't a chance of me surviving anyway," she said. "But then they told me I might have a chance to live if the right medicine got to me."
With the CBS crew filming, the C-141 followed a series of fires set by NSF scientists to lead the way. Seeing the fires on network television back in Ohio, Lorine shed tears of joy.
While the aircrew could see little more than the fires below, the men and women of Amudsen-Scott had a front row seat to the operation.
"Inside the plane was lit, and we could see them," Nielsen said. "We could see their figures and their faces. We were all waving and screaming. Of course they couldn't see us. We were in the total, pitch black darkness."
Besides the critical chemotherapy drugs and the ultrasound machine, Nielsen said, the bundles also included microscopes, cameras, cards, letters and flowers from the aircrew, and fresh fruit.
"We just went insane over the fresh fruit," she added.
The doctor still has pieces of the cardboard boxes that members of the aircrew signed, she said.
A year later, finished with the treatment and cancer-free, Nielsen and her parents were special guests of the 62nd Airlift Wing at McChord's Air Expo 2000, celebrating the 60th anniversary of the base. As the family took in the sights and sounds of the aircraft performing on the flightline, the doctor spoke of the special conditions of the trip.
"My parents had one simple request," she said. "They wanted to be here at McChord when I said thanks. These men and women are special heroes, and we'll always be grateful for what they did for us." (FROM AIR MOBILITY COMMAND PUBLIC AFFAIRS).
Follow Us On:
