Fan, Dwight Howard Celebrate Life, Share Magical Moment

The meeting was supposed to be routine, or as routine as a world-famous athlete visiting a dying fan can be.

Kay Kellogg was diagnosed with inoperable cancer six weeks ago. With her days suddenly numbered, she made her bucket list. It was one item long.

Meet Dwight Howard.

As Mike Bianchi of the Orlando Sentinel described earlier this week, the NBA superstar showed up at her apartment the other day. It's a story as old as sports. Athlete visits ailing fan. Though this one didn't quite go as planned.

"I'm sure he thought he'd walk in and see somebody in a hostage chair with a little Magic flag in their hand," Kellogg told FanHouse by telephone Wednesday about her meeting last month.

Instead, the athlete found the visit inspired him as much as it did the fan. And that's saying something.

"I'm happy, happy, happy," Kellogg said.

That seems to be a terminal condition. There are hardships, like your coach yelling at you. Then there are hardships, like your doctor telling you have a few months to live.

It's all how you handle them.

"Meeting Mama Kay was one of the best experiences of my life," Howard said, according to the Orlando Magic.

Babe Ruth might have said something similar in 1926. He promised to hit a home run for 11-year-old Johnny Sylvester, who'd been thrown off a horse and had inflammation near his brain.

Ruth hit three dingers next day, then he went to see Johnny.

"Dr. Babe Ruth at Bedside," read the New York Daily News headline.

Eighty-four years, our Dr. Ruth has changed but the story remains the same. Sometimes the athlete's visit is set up by a bowl committee or public relations staff. Oftentimes the photo op turns into a heartfelt mission of mercy. Howard's visit was never perfunctory.

"To think that she's dying of cancer," he said, "and meeting me was on her bucket list."




That can be a little humbling, especially if you're used to being gushed over on a global scale. Howard's been to China, Africa and India since the season ended. Then he made the short drive to the Berkshire Club Apartments.

The 6-foot-11 center was greeted by his 4-foot-11 admirer. The Magic had heard of Kellogg's plight through her daughter, Arian Clute, and some other friends. Kellogg has had a rough few financial years, but she still managed to buy upper-bowl season tickets the last two seasons.

She'd show up in her No. 12 Dwight Howard jersey. Something about that guy always appealed to her.

"One gift God gave me was discernment. I knew he was as real as the day was long," Kellogg said. "You can see through all the show and circus that surrounds him that there's a decency and goodness."

Any plans she had of buying season tickets to the Magic's new arena were put on serious hold August 8. Doctors told Kellogg she has stage 3 multiple myeloma. It's a cancer that disrupts the production of normal blood cells. There is no cure, but there is a lot of pain.

"It's been quite a couple of months," Kellogg said.

The disease is like a moth eating bone marrow. Any stress can cause tiny fractures, and Kellogg has too many to count. She broke a hand merely re-positioning herself on a table during a radiology exam. She needs a walker to get around.

"Meeting Mama Kay was one of the best experiences of my life."
-- Dwight Howard All that, and you'd swear she gets up every day planning to run a marathon.

"I've been given time. It's wonderful," Kellogg said. "Some people get hit by a truck. I realized through this what a blessing it is to have time to tell people how much they've meant to me. Or to say, 'I've seen you smile across the room and never stopped to tell you how good that made me feel.' "

She wanted to tell Howard that she's seen him dunk from the cheap seats and it made her feel good.

"Dwight," she told him. "If I had a son, I'd want him to be you."

"Ohhh, that'd have been tough," he said. "I was two months premature and still 21 inches long."

From there, they were off on a laugh-fest. Who knew a 24-year-old African-American man and a 62-year-old white grandmother would have so much to talk about?

Show biz? He's performed with Kobe Bryant. She performed with Bing Crosby.

He's headlined Madison Square Garden. She's danced at Radio City Music Hall.

Kellogg was a singer and dancer. She came to Orlando in 1971 to play Miss Lilly at the Diamond Horseshoe restaurant at Disney World.

She shared her life story, about raising two girls as a single mom and cooking meals for every kid in the neighborhood. Kellogg never mentioned her health. Pity parties were never her style.

"My life has just been magical," she said. "It's had its hard times. The lights have gone out, but they've always come back on."

Sort of like Stan Van Gundy's vocal chords. Howard and Kellogg got lost in each other's company, at least until she glanced at the clock.

"I appreciate this," she told Howard's publicist. "But this was supposed to be a 20-minute public relations call. You guys have got to go."

Howard arrived at 4 p.m. and it was almost 6. He autographed the jersey Kellogg was wearing and gave her a gentle hug goodbye.

"He was like my 7-foot bottle of medicine," Kellogg said.

She was his 5-foot bottle of perspective.

"It was such an uplifting day for me," Howard said, "talking with her and finding out about all the things in her life."

Especially how she wants it to end.

"I keep asking God for a few more months," she said. "Now I just want to see Dwight play on Opening Night."

That's October 28th. This is where the old story takes its own course.

After Ruth's visit, little Johnny Sylvester got well and became a submarine commander. Dr. Dwight didn't promise he'd dunk one for Kellogg. He offered something more.

"She'll always be in my prayers," Howard said.

He showed up that day and Kellogg was looking up to him.

When he left, Howard was looking up to her.