Dear Peyton Manning,
You took the time to read her letter. A letter that I can only imagine is one of thousands you receive in a week.
You probably choked up. Kari Barnett Bollig's story is one that makes even tough football giants cry.
And then you did the miraculous. What Kari never expected in a million years you would do.
You didn't put that letter down, thinking to yourself "too bad for that woman." You didn't go out onto the field, loosen up your shoulder and start throwing.
You walked in to your people at Mile High Stadium and you told your people to call that woman. I can hear you saying it now: "Get that woman out here. I want to meet her."
I didn't love you before, Peyton. Even when you were in Indianapolis, even when you won a Super Bowl for the Colts during the 2006 season. I didn't love you even when you made me cry with laughter in "Saturday Night Live" or those goofy ESPN commercials.
I never felt a particular genuineness about you. I felt more of a robotic aloofness. I'm not sure why. I know now that was my problem, not yours.
But I want to tell you something. I do love you now. I love you for what you did for my childhood friend from Greenfield, Ind., who is dying of breast cancer.
***
The cancer is stage 4, the worst stage breast cancer can be. It has spread throughout Kari's bones and into her lungs.
"There's not a whole lot, they can slow it down, but there's not a whole lot they can do," said Kari, 45, who now lives in Rock Springs, Wyoming.
So, as people often do in devastating situations like these, they started telling Kari to cross things off her bucket list. But Kari didn't have a bucket list. The fiery redhead has lived a full life.
But she did have some letters she wanted to write, to send to people who have meant something to her, who have made a difference in her life. They weren't supposed to be celebrity-type letters. She wrote them to school teachers and friends and family. But she did want to write one to you, Peyton.
"I have followed Peyton Manning forever, especially being an Indiana girl," she said. "I just thought,
'Well shoot. I'm going to write him a letter and tell him how much he inspires me, not just because he's a football player, but for what he does off the field.
"It was very personal. It was very heartfelt and I never thought anything of it other than I wrote it and sent it," she said. "I didn't even know he would get it."
***
Kari got the call. That you had read her letter and wanted to meet her.
"I kind of stammered and stuttered around," Kari said. "And then I said, 'Are you kidding me?' "
It was no joke. This past weekend, Kari was treated to two days at Mile High Stadium in Denver, where she watched Broncos players get their team photos taken Saturday, sat in on walk-through practices, took a tour of the facility.
She was given tickets to the Broncos vs. Ravens game Sunday and sideline passes for before the game — all left for her by you. Your name is right there on the envelope; never mind an "l" is missing from her last name.
Because when she met you, well, her heart melted.
"He walked right over after he got his picture taken," Kari said. "It was so sweet because he shakes my hand and says, 'I'm Peyton Manning.' It was cute. It was kind of like, 'I know who you are Peyton.' "
You spent 10 minutes with Kari and her husband of 12 years, Ed (who, in a tragic twist, lost his first wife to breast cancer). You talked to her. You took her mind off of cancer, just for a bit.
"It was real easy and laid back, not at all nervewracking," she said. "He's welcoming. He's like a gentle giant. It was such a personal moment. It was a once in a lifetime thing."
***
Kari grew up in Greenfield right across the street from my family. She was best friends with my older sister, Lisa Bauer. By association, she became my best friend, too, or at least I wanted her to be.
We played croquet on warm summer nights, we swam in her above-ground pool that I was wildly jealous of, we went to church together.
I would sit on my front porch and watch Kari chase her cute little beagle, Dinky, around her yard. Our parents had joint garage sales, shared the bounty from their gardens.
And then, with her athletic training dreams in front of her, Kari left for Northern Arizona University. Years later, I left for Butler University. And as happens, neighbors lose touch, and I never saw her again.
But we stayed in touch on Facebook. And that's when the posts started coming. Something wasn't right with Kari. Though, at first, it seemed like she would be fine.
As breast cancer goes, Kari's was the kind you wanted to get if you had to get the dreaded disease.
She was 40 years old when she found a lump in her left breast. She was diagnosed in April 2011 with stage 2. She got a lumpectomy, went through chemotherapy and radiation.
"Everything looked really good until 2013, when I thought I had pulled a muscle in my back and it never healed up and never went away," she said.
This was no pulled muscle. This was news that changed Kari's life.
***
The doctors found tumors all over her spine, one touching her spinal cord. Her cancer had metastasized and she was now stage 4. Kari's had 52 radiation treatments since then.
She goes every three weeks for an infusion of chemo, not the hard chemo that you think of, but a kind of chemo maintenance program to slow the progression.
"It's all throughout my bones," Kari said.
Some days, the physical pain (not to mention the devastating emotional turmoil) makes it tough for Kari to get off the couch. She has had to quit her job as a speech language pathologist at a child developmental center in Wyoming.
Her bones are so fragile that doctors feared even a small child running into her would break her spine or her hip.
Ed helps encourage her to keep moving, as does Bristol, her 3-year-old Boykin Spaniel. Bristol nudges Kari to play Frisbee or go on a walk.
She has plenty of time to read — and to write. And that, Peyton, is how your letter came to be.
***
Your letter is the only one Kari mailed. The others are still tucked away in her home. She's waiting.
"I'm not mailing them yet," she said. "I could still live 10 years. I could be gone next week, but I could be here in 10 years."
I'm glad she mailed your letter.
I heard what you did for her, as you were leaving her Saturday at the stadium. I heard you leaned in for one of those awkward guy hugs. You said quietly to her as you pulled away: "Keep fighting, Kari. I'll be praying for you."
Thank you, Peyton Manning, for doing what you did. We're all hoping those prayers work.
