After fighting chronic myelogenous leukemia, a life-threatening disease, most Fred Hutchinson patients can't wait to go home.

Not Percy Randle. "I wish I was still there," said Randle. "I'd go back in a heartbeat."

It's been 20 years since Randle came to Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center for a bone marrow transplant and four years since he left. During that time, Randle beat cancer, found his true calling and touched the lives of hundreds of Fred Hutchinson patients and their families by becoming the center's first chaplain.

"My experience as a chaplain there opened my eyes — and my heart, too," said Randle. "I grew so much spiritually and emotionally through my time there."

Now retired and living with his wife, Anita, on 7.5 acres in the rolling hills outside Oxford, Miss., the 47-year-old Randle volunteers as a reading tutor at a local school and also spends some time as a volunteer chaplain at a nearby hospital and cancer center.

Anita, who also worked at Fred Hutchinson during the couple's stay in Seattle, now works at Ole Miss in the grants and contracts office. The couple enjoys attending events at the university as well as making the hour drive to the bright lights of Memphis, Tenn. "And anybody who knows me knows I love to fish," said Randle.

All in all, it's a good life — thanks to the lifesaving care Randle received at the center. "I owe so much to the people at Fred Hutchinson," he said. "The staff and volunteers there were like a second family. Having complete strangers reach out to you like that is an experience I'll never forget."

Randle was a 25-year-old farm chemical salesman when he learned he had chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). "I was diagnosed Dec. 4, 1981 — I remember it well," he said.

In the months leading up to his diagnosis, Randle had been experiencing stabbing pain on his left side and raging sweats at night. "I would wake up soaking wet," he said. At first, he chalked it up to spina bifida, a birth defect of the spinal cord that Randle has battled all his life. "I thought maybe my body's thermostat didn't work as well because of that," he said.

Finally, Randle learned the true answer following a party his company threw for their customers. "I ate too much and drank too much and the next day when I went to work I felt pretty bad," he recalled. As the day wore on, Randle felt tremendous pain in his chest and side and decided to see his doctor.

As a precaution, Randle's doctor had him check into the hospital overnight. "Of course, the first thing they do when you go to the hospital is they draw some blood," said Randle. The next morning, the doctor delivered catastrophic news. Randle had CML, a form of leukemia in which the body's bone marrow produces too many white blood cells.

"I ran the gamut of emotions and feelings when he told me," he said. "I thought my body just might explode. There is no single way to describe my feelings."

Perhaps the most painful feeling was hopelessness. While chemotherapy shrank Randle's swollen spleen — the source of his pain — and erased his night sweats, it would be just a matter of time before his white cell count would spike to a fatal level. "The doctor said I would live another two or three years before I would go into a blast crisis and that would be the beginning of the end because there was no cure," he said. "That was a bitter pill to swallow."

Randle prayed hard — not for a miracle but merely for a fighting chance. "Growing up with spina bifida, I had always been very aggressive about my treatment," he said. "Then all of a sudden I was told there was nothing I could do. I just wanted something to come along that would give me a fighting chance."

Randle had to wait 18 months, but his prayer was eventually answered when his doctor returned from a conference where he learned about a new treatment being tested for CML — bone marrow transplants. He suggested Randle travel to Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle, an internationally recognized leader in transplant research.

At that time, treating CML with bone-marrow transplants was such a new approach that data on long-term results was non-existent. The protocol included total body radiation and massive doses of chemotherapy to destroy the diseased marrow. "I was scared, but at the same time I felt hope," said Randle. "It was like the theme song from 'Rocky' came on. I had something to fight for. If I was going to die, at least I was going to go down swinging. That was very important to me."

With his brother Fred, providing a near-perfect donor match, Randle received his transplant on Oct. 3, 1983. He's been leukemia-free ever since. Randle's experience at Fred Hutchinson did more, though, than defeat his cancer. It inspired him to act on a previous urge to join the ministry — as a chaplain at Fred Hutchinson.

"People experience so much of what goes on at the center in a spiritual way," he explained. "My goal was to show them how they needed a chaplain and how a chaplain could work with doctors, nurses and staff and be a big asset. I know I needed one when I was there."

So Randle enrolled in a non-denominational clinical pastoral training program. Buoyed by financial assistance from members of his hometown church, Randle spent two years as a volunteer at the center before being hired full-time in 1986. "When I started my ministry there, it just took off," said Randle. "I thought I would be there for the rest of my life."

Instead, he was there for 14 years before the pain of spina bifida became too great, forcing him to retire and prompting he and Anita to return to their home state of Mississippi to be nearer their families. "I really do believe that's the most difficult decision I have ever made in my life," he said.

As chaplain, Randle didn't preach. Instead, he listened and responded to each patient's unique spiritual needs, providing comfort, understanding and hope — all reinforced by his own positive experience as a patient. "I met people wherever they were at spiritually and did not try to bring them to where I was," he explained, "I always felt I was pretty successful at that."

Having saved his life and opened the door to a rewarding career, Fred Hutchinson owns a special place in Randle's heart, yet his gratitude doesn't end there. "I owe so much to the patients who came before me and put their lives on the line for research," he said. "What they learned from other people before me helped me, and what they learned from me helped other people later. I always remember that."

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