My name is Dale Cooper. (As of May 2008) I am 46 years old and I live in Oak Hill, Virginia, a suburb of Washington DC. I am the surviving spouse of Monica Rae Cooper, who after a six and a half year fight, succumbed to this bastard demon disease at the tender age of 42.

What's with the Mohawkman nickname?

The name "Mohawkman" was a name that I gave myself in August of 2004 during the Washington DC Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for Breast Cancer.

Why "Mohawkman?"

The name is actually quite fitting as at the time of that Komen Walk I chose to sport a Mohawk haircut as my personal way to bring attention to the ravages of breast cancer.

Why a Mohawk?

My lovely wife Monica was diagnosed with stage 2+ breast cancer on February 9, 2001. In June 2001, Monica underwent a radical mastectomy to remove her affected breast. Shortly thereafter, she was given a course of Doxorubicin (Adriamycin) and Cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan) (aka AC). For those who don't know, the most humbling side-effect of AC (at least to most women) is hair loss.

Thinking only of her children and how they might react to the sight of a bald mom, Monica decided to hold a "hair cutting party" with our boys as a way to bring some levity to what Monica knew would be a heart-wrenching experience. Our decision was to give Monica a Mohawk haircut as a way to make the transition to utter baldness much less drastic. Needless to say, that simple act of humility and self-deprecation removed any semblance of shock to our sons...and ironically to herself.

The photo below captured Monica's second Mohawk. We sadly repeated the same ritual of hair removal courtesy of Monica's dose of Doxil in late 2003. Pictured here with Monica is Joey, our oldest son. He took the lead in creating the most beautiful Mohawk that has ever been captured on film.

What the Mohawk Means to Me

The Mohawk haircut that I now sport for my Avon Walks has come to symbolize the bravery that she showed not only through her six and half year battle, but of warrior spirit that so many people just like her embrace to help them fight their own personal battle, be it cancer, any other chronic and life-threatening disease or condition. Unlike medicine, courage is what keeps people in the game of life. Without courage, all of the medicine in the world will have no effect.

An unexpected "consequence" of wearing a Mohawk in a public place is the looks that I get from people as I walk down the street. Admittedly, we ALL notice things that aren't part of our "normal" existance. It's human nature. However, it made me think just how Monica felt when she went to the grocery store after all her hair had fallen out. experiencing "those looks" myself got to a greater understanding of just what Monica was feeling as she went about her normal activities sans hair.

"The stares I get from some people," she would say, "seem so insensitive. Many times, I just feel like saying to them: 'What is your problem? I'm fighting cancer. What's YOUR day been like?'"

Every time I cut my hair into a Mohawk, it helps me to understand what she felt was the most humiliating part of her treatment. So many times she would tell me, "Losing a breast is OK, but a woman's hair is her identity."

Without sounding cliched, it is my desire, like that of Monica while she was still alive, to help people see that it's not one's outward appearance that makes the person. Sadly, it took me 40 years to understand what that meant.

What will the Mohawk do for me in the future?

It is my life mission now to use the most memorable moment in my wife's humility to bring attention to the needs of the cancer community as a whole.

Over the course of 20 years, I have lost not only my lovely wife, I have lost my cousin Terry Dubay (27, lymphoma), my best friend Coach JD Lash (42, lieomyo sarcoma), my father-in-law Brad Flippin (65, prostate), my father Chuck Cooper (75, pancreas), my uncle Dave Jackson (), and a dear friend that I never knew, Mark Mowery (48, melanoma).

I also have numerous friends and family who are being treated for a variety of cancers including breast, colon, ovarian, throat and liver.

I will not rest until this disease is placed where it belongs...in the historical annals of medical science.