Plant City Observer

Plant City art teacher shares memories of cancer battle

His mother pleaded with him.

Just go to the other hospital.

But, 17-year-old Joshua Fishbein wouldn’t budge. He already had been delivered a death sentence once. At least that’s how everyone — his family, his friends, the nurses and doctors — were treating it.

What was the point?

“I didn’t want to go to another doctor to hear someone else say I was going to die,” Fishbein remembers.

Fishebein lay in a New York hospital. He thought back over the past several months. The memories — sore throats, fatigue, inquisitive medics — all streamed through his consciousness. First it was strep throat. Then, mono.

And one day in October 1997, those minor diagnoses turned into something much worse. In a cold sweat, he sunk into his bed, almost paralyzed by a raging fever. His mother, Pamela Cardinale, rushed him to the hospital.

There, staff prepped him for a spinal tap after suspecting meningitis. They found cells that weren’t supposed to be in the spinal fluid. The next morning they prepared him for a bone marrow test, with a blood transfusion first.

After three days, the final result came.

“I remember the day very vividly,” Fishbein says. “Only my mother was there in the morning. The doctor came in. You could just tell from his face that it wasn’t good news.”

I’m sorry to say that you have leukemia.

Fishbein’s lifeline had just been cut.

The doctor told his father, David, the same news later that day.

Are you 100% sure it’s nothing else?

When the doctor confirmed the news, David broke down in tears.

“For me, that was the most eye-opening moment,” Fishbein says. “In 17 years, that was the first time I saw my father cry.”

The diagnosis shook Fishbein’s world to its core. He was stuck in the hospital bed. They told him he would continue to grow weaker. Eventually, he could undergo chemotherapy treatments but that the outlook wasn’t good.

Those treatments would probably be the end of him.

The Make-A-Wish Foundation rushed in to grant a wish before he turned 18. His parents hastily threw him a birthday party before his time was up. Everyone bought him pajamas.

After graduating high school, Fishbein wanted to run off to California and start a rock band. Instead, he was tied to the hospital, trapped in his ailing body.

“It was a very dark time, because we weren’t really celebrating the time I had left,” Fishbein remembers. “It was like, ‘In a month or so, he’s not going to be here.’ Here I was, turning 18, that time in your life when you’re supposed to be going out in the world. And I was dying.”

But that all changed when Fishbein finally decided to appease his mother and switch hospitals.

A CHILD’S SMILE

His mother pleaded with him.

Please just come down to the party. 

Fishbein and his family were staying at a Ronald McDonald House between his treatments at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, in New York.

There was a holiday party going on downstairs. Fishbein had chosen to remain reclusive for most activities and parties. He didn’t want to change his routine now.

But reluctantly he finally descended to the party below.

He saw kids. Lots of them. All sick.

And all smiling.

“I don’t know what it was, but I started looking at all the kids,” Fishbein says. “Some had only known cancer their entire lives. From that moment, inside I felt greedy, that I was taking things for granted. I stopped thinking about myself immediately.”

Fishbein began spending more time with the children at the house. He became particularly close to a 3-year-old named Caitlin. His family and her family shared a kitchenette. He sometimes could hear her through the walls screaming for him. Other times, she wouldn’t take her medicine until Fishbein came to see her.

Meanwhile, the doctors at his new hospital weren’t going to let him sit there and wither. They decided to start him on treatment right away. He had received a bone marrow transplant from his “hero” and younger brother, Trevor Fishbein, on Jan. 24, 1997.

For two years, he battled.

And he won.

BRINGING HOPE TO OTHERS

Now, 15 years later, Fishbein is surrounded by colorful art projects in a Burney Elementary School classroom. A glimmering gold ring flashes on his finger. He’s a newlywed. And he still has a lot of life left to live with his bride, Beata.

Fishbein teaches art at Burney and Simmons Career Center. But it is the piece of art on his left forearm that always reminds him of his struggle with cancer. A dark, melancholy angel cries tears of bitter sorrow for all those he’s lost to the tragic illness.

One of those special souls is Caitlin.

She died at 5. The Fishbeins were the only non-family members invited to see her in California during her last few weeks. Fishbein was in the room when she passed.

“For the first time in my life I felt — I wish — I would have done anything to switch places with her,” Fishbein says. “She was like my little sister.”

When he came back to New York, he wanted the tattoo.

“Some people believe everyone has a guardian angel,” Fishbein says. “Even though we do, they can’t save everyone. The angel symbolizes that she couldn’t be saved. It made me reflect on what I can do to help someone else. So I don’t feel at a loss.”

Since his battle with cancer, Fishbein always has been a presence in the lives of others dealing with the diagnosis. This year, he is the captain for Burney Elementary’s team for Relay For Life. He has been teaching the students about cancer. In turn, they have been so excited to help with the cause, bringing in jars full of change. One kindergartner even asked if she could cure cancer simply by walking the track.

And every time Fishbein is in New York, he visits the Ronald McDonald House. One time sticks in his memory. A father with a 4-year-old suffering from neuroblastoma approached him.

He thanked Fishbein for being there. For giving them hope.

“There was a moment that brought me down to Earth,” Fishbein says. “I feel like as long as you have hope — that’s the most important thing. No matter what, always have that.

“In a way, if I can give that to someone, it’s an honor,” he says.

Contact Amber Jurgensen at ajurgensen@plantcityobserver.com.

ABOUT THIS STORY

In the weeks leading up to Plant City’s Relay for Life, the Plant City Times & Observer will spotlight different organizations and residents who make the local Relay one of the largest in the state.

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