Man's 2nd Polar Plunge is one he wasn't sure he'd live for

ROCKVILLE, Minn. — When Jim Roush jumps through a hole in the ice and lands in the frigid waters of Pleasant Lake on Saturday afternoon, it's going to be a shock.

He knows that. It was a shock when Roush did it last year, too.

"I'll get in and out as quick as I can," said the 45-year-old Clear Lake resident, who's participating in the St. Cloud Polar Plunge to raise money for Special Olympics. "You get tingly."

But Saturday's icy plunge also constitutes something of a celebration for Roush, the St. Cloud Times reported (http://on.sctimes.com/1QLNo6W).

After the jarring news he received following the 2015 Polar Plunge, there were no guarantees he would even be around for this one.

"That'd definitely be it — celebrating life, making good memories for the rest of my family, showing people that even if you have a bad disease, it's attitude (that matters)," said Roush, who was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer shortly after last year's plunge.

"When we found out about it, his first comment was he wanted me and my sister to jump in (this year) because he wasn't going to be able to," said Tim Jackson, 42, Roush's brother. "He kinda figured he'd be gone by now."

His ensuing diagnosis — lung cancer that had spread to his liver and vertebrae — began a year-long, ongoing medical battle with a disease that has a grim prognosis.

And yet, Roush looks back positively on last year's plunge. At the very least, jumping into those icy waters probably extended his life.

"If I hadn't done it," he said, "this thing would have snuck up on me and would have blindsided me."

"It was the Polar Plunge that gave him the sign," said Angie Wilkerson, 48, Roush's sister. "In Jim's eyes, it saved his life."

"Absolutely," Jackson added. "If he hadn't jumped in, it wouldn't have caused the irritation. It wouldn't have caused him to go to the hospital. It probably would have been (noticed) when he started choking.

Roush's life has been filled with challenges. He has cognitive disabilities, and he's legally blind in his left eye.

He has struggled with depression, and to find a career path.

"He's just a very cool person, and he's never had a moment to shine because of some of his handicaps," said Wilkerson, who commutes from her home in New Richmond, Wisconsin, to help with most of Roush's medical appointments. "But he's never let it beat him."

"I think people underestimate him," said Juli Sanner, Roush's cancer care coordinator at the Coborn Cancer Center. "He's very knowledgeable about things."

The biggest challenge surfaced Feb. 14, 2015, after Roush jumped into Pleasant Lake as part of an event that raised about $82,000 for Special Olympics.

"I took a deep breath ... jumped in ... blew it all out ... stood up, took an extra-deep breath in, and something popped," he said.

"I knew there would be consequences, being out in the cold and stuff. I thought it was like a frost-bit lung."

The reality proved to be much worse.

The following day, Jackson drove Roush to St. Cloud Hospital. X-rays and a CAT scan revealed a mass on his lower left lung.

"They said, 'You might have something going on,' " Roush recalled. "So they sent it to the Mayo (Clinic), and I had to wait around an extra two weeks.

"When cancer spreads outside of the area where it originates, we call that an advanced-stage cancer," Sanner said. "We know that's not curable, but it is treatable."

Not easily, though. Roush's lung tumor is large, roughly 2 inches by 4 inches by 5 inches.

"Kinda like a piece of a 2-by-4 cut down," Jackson said.

"It was the size of a softball," Wilkerson said, "and he's just going along like it's no big thing."

The tumor is also in a complicated location.

Roush started radiation treatments almost immediately following the official diagnosis, and began chemotherapy not long after that.

"I had my birthday March 22nd," Roush said. "March 23rd, I got chemo for my birthday."

He's been treated with a smorgasbord of chemotherapy medications — Taxol, Carboplatin, Avastin, Optivo — as doctors search for the combination with optimal results.

"We certainly don't want people to give up hope," Sanner said. "What we try to do is keep the cancer at a more minimal level, not let it get out of control."

All things considered, Roush has done amazingly well. He lost his hair, but it grew back. His nausea has been minimal, and his energy level has remained fairly steady.

"We're trying to get him out to do some things he's never done before," Jackson said, "while he's got time to do it."

There is no sugar-coating Roush's long-term prognosis.

"It is a terminal cancer. There's no coming back from it," Jackson said. "I think the statistics are like 80 percent of Stage 4 lung cancers die within a year of diagnosis."

"After one of our last chemo treatments before Christmas," Wilkerson said, "we went and picked out his tombstone.

"Jimmy's going to die. Just not today."

"Pretty much right afterward," Roush said. "I figured it was a good way to show resiliency and such."

"We really do want people to live their life, not sit around all day," said Sanner, who confirmed that Roush's oncologist (Dr. Girum Lemma) had approved Saturday's plunge. "We really try to have them enjoy every day they have. It's a gift."

It's a good cause. It's also a celebration of life — even for somebody who is cognizant of death.

"He's dealt with the inevitable," Jackson said. "We've talked with every doctor, and they've told us what it is and what the end result is going to be."

Roush's medical team is staving off that eventuality with the latest cocktail of cancer medications.

"(Chemotherapy) never even touched the cancer," Wilkerson said. "It just stagnated it."

But for now, that's good enough. Roush is entirely focused on something else.

When Roush jumps into Pleasant Lake again on Saturday afternoon, he'll be taking a new nickname with him.

"My sign-up name is going to be the 'Sick Polar Bear,' " said Roush, who has convinced his brother and several friends from the Atlas Staffing Agency in St. Cloud to also take the plunge. "My friends are going to be the 'Fan Club of the Sick Polar Bear.' "

He'll be wearing a personally designed black T-shirt. The lettering on the front says, "Keep Calm — And Kick Cancer's Butt." The lettering on the back says, "Saved by Polar Plunge."

"He's going through it with a very upbeat attitude," Sanner said. "He's always looking at the world as the glass is half-full."

"He gives us hugs now," Wilkerson said. "He says, 'I love you.' That's huge."

In typical fashion, Roush is even talking about the 2017 Plunge.

"If next year I'm in remission, there's the idea of becoming a super-plunger," Roush said. "That would be 24 plunges."

Specifically, one every hour, for 24 hours, into Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis.

But there weren't last year, either, and Roush has no qualms about Saturday's plunge.

"Nope," he said. "Whatever happens, happens. We'll just fix it afterward."

A typical response, from someone who's already dealt with a lot of adversity.