The word “cancer” is enough to stop one in their tracks.

Add in the preceding word “pancreatic” – and that spells what is truly a dread disease.

Those readers expecting the usual political fare can turn elsewhere this week. Judging by my in-box, there is an ample supply of such commentary.

Departing from the norm, I want to use my space here to talk about a dire illness and pay tribute to two of Colorado’s finest who are each engaged in a mighty battle with it.

Anyone who shares my privilege in knowing Madie Gustafson or Jerry Nissen will attest to my praise. Both are remarkable individuals. Yet, they are unremarkable in being but two of more than 64,000 Americans, including well over 1,000 fellow Coloradans, who receive this devastating diagnosis every year.

Pancreatic cancer accounts for just 3.3% of new cancer cases in our country, but 8.3% of cancer deaths. It is so lethal because those carrying it tend to be symptom-free in the early stages when it would be most treatable. By the time the cancer is discovered, it is usually far advanced.

Each of those souls who receive this shattering news have their own worthy story. My endeavor today is to tell those of my treasured friends, Madie and Jerry.

To say that Madie and I go back a ways is an understatement. She stood with me as my “best man” 37 years ago, as Tracy and I crafted a wedding with both men and women by each of our sides. It is Madie’s signature on our marriage license as the official witness.

Even before then, during my partisan years, I connected Madie with Roy Romer. She managed his first campaign for state treasurer, while also attending law school.

As a telecommunications attorney, Madie built quite the reputation. If you ever received your television via cable, chances are that Madie negotiated that agreement with your local municipality.

From the outside, my wife and I thought Madie and her then-husband were the perfect couple. We were shocked when Madie told us of their separation: “Peter and I made the mistake of thinking we had two high-maintenance careers and two high-maintenance kids, and a low-maintenance marriage.”

That is called a cautionary tale.

As the years went by, Madie became a woman in full, a loving mother and, more recently, grandmother, avid hiker, beautiful skier, adventurous traveler, and dedicated mentor especially to younger women. She finds immense joy and solace at her Vashon Island getaway in her native Washington state. On top of it all, Denver’s theater community has known no better, more avid supporter.

My connection to Jerry Nissen is of far more recent standing. When Tracy and I started spending large chunks of time in scenic, low-key Tabernash, Jerry quickly befriended us. Only later did I realize that there was little unique about us and this was Jerry’s manner with countless sorts, Grand County old-timers and newcomers alike.

If you look in the dictionary under “people person,” or just Google it these days, you are likely to find Jerry’s picture. He knows everyone in these parts and I have yet to hear a single person utter a critical word. If there is a civic cause, Jerry will be at the center of it. The Fraser Valley Lions Club and the local chapter of Trout Unlimited have been particular beneficiaries of his leadership.

Jerry has been earnestly invested in the latter for years even though fishing was never his sport. Into his 70s and until this damn disease slowed him down, those favorite pastimes included skiing (at an expert level) and mountain biking (in his words, preferring “paths uphill in both directions”).

Jerry is proof positive that one need not be Jewish to be a mensch. And that fun, liveliness and athleticism can accompany the mensch qualities of modesty, integrity and consummate kindness.

Madie’s and Jerry’s cancers have taken different trajectories. Jerry got his notice of Stage 4 pancreatic cancer nearly 30 months ago. Long after the diagnosis, a member of the palliative care team at University of Colorado Health told him that the initial expectation was that he would be gone in under a month.

Stage 2 was Madie’s diagnosis a year ago, a rarity with this particular organ. Her University of Colorado doctors deemed her cancer “curable” due to the location of the tumor and the relative lack of lymph involvement.

Both have endured endless rounds of chemotherapy and, in Madie’s case, an intense surgery. Of late, both have received tough news.

The “curable” tag attached to Madie went away with the cancer’s spread to her liver over the summer. She, too, is now a Stage 4 patient. For further complications, she has undergone everything from spinal surgery to a root canal, as her body chafes presumably under the volume of chemo.

Jerry’s chemo regimen worked wonders in fighting the cancer to a draw for the better part of two years. Until that was no longer the case.

“All chemo fails eventually,” he reports.

The return of abdominal pain was his signal that the tumor was again growing.

Connoting hope, Madie and Jerry are both now in clinical trials, promising treatment regimens, though still experimental and without conclusive evidence or final sanction by the authorities.

Without knowing each other save for being linked in this column, Madie and Jerry share other commonalities. Both are 74 and were born within a month of each other. Both were active, fit and spry before all this.

Both have experienced frightening family illness and major loss. Madie’s beloved brother, Hugh, died of this same cancer at the tender age of 47. Jerry nursed his wife of 38 years through a miserable three-year ordeal of ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. Neither lacks for courage.

Best of all, both of them found true love for a second time later in life. As much as this is a paean to Madie and Jerry, it is also a testament to her husband Dan Pilcher and his wife Jennifer Mirczak. Both are exceptional humans – loving, protective caregivers and cheerleaders of the highest order.

The trauma of any cancer, certainly this one, is a spiritual journey just as it is a medical one.

Jerry was raised in a church-going house before then drifting away from much Christian observance or connection as an adult. His cancer affliction has not sent him sprinting back in that direction. But he reports being “more accepting of religion and open to higher powers” as he is grateful for those who routinely tell him that they are holding him in their prayers.

Madie has been more overtly religious, but talks of having that faith tested by this ultimate challenge: “At first hearing the news, it was very difficult to find God and I am still struggling with that.”

Though in the next breath, she offers, “God has saved my life before. He may not be able to save that now, but He can help me through whatever transition is ahead.”

Both have clearly thought much about “the end,” no doubt far more than those of us not in such straits. But neither seems preoccupied with it. Madie mentions “trying to do something joyful each day.”

Every pop psychologist tells us to live in the moment. Stage 4 cancer turns that recommended way into the only real path.

Madie and Jerry remain invested in their new clinical trials. Giving up is not on the near-term radar for either. However, both are keenly aware that quality of life is paramount. Jerry states that the treatment over these two-plus years, no matter how arduous and difficult, has been no more painful or debilitating than the cancer itself.

Though each well knows that is all subject to change.

Per Madie: “I have no intention of just pursuing any treatment if it comes without any rational hope.”

And Jerry: “I don’t want to suffer. Life is precious. But when the time has come, please let me go.”

Life is a terminal condition for all of us. For these two, and others similarly suffering, that condition is far more acute. This is a story about a “terrible disease,” Madie’s words, and two wonderful people in its midst. Please light a candle and carry them in your heart.

Eric Sondermann is a Colorado-based independent political commentator. He writes regularly for Colorado Politics and the Gazette newspapers. Reach him at?EWS@EricSondermann.com; follow him at @EricSondermann