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“To have left a verse…”
Bellevue native, Columbus Police officer ovewhelmed with support as she fights cancer a second time
BELLEVUE — People who knew the little girl with the big voice thought she might be famous some day. But they didn’t likely think it would be for this.
Bonnie Sberna Lirtzman grew up in Bellevue and was active in music in high school, singing in the choir and acting in plays, her grandmother Marcia Sberna said.
“She has a beautiful singing voice, and went to college to study music,” she said.
“I was known as the Choir Queen,” said Bonnie. “I was in more than 20 shows in high school and won national awards.”
But after graduating from Bellevue High School in 1999 and heading off to Ohio University with intentions of pursuing a degree in music and vocal performance, young Bonnie found herself a much smaller fish in much bigger pond.
“I was no longer the big thing,” she said.
To help support herself while in college, Bonnie got a job with the Department of Campus Safety and Resident Life as a Security Aide. She found she excelled in that environment, and quickly rose to the top, training others and rewriting the university’s handbook on how to be a security aide.
“I just loved it and was immersed in the entire security industry,” she said.
She had always wanted to be a police officer, she said, but her slight stature and height, put her at a disadvantage, or so she thought.
A bad break up in college changed her mind.
“I was in a serious relationship all through my high school and when we got to college he did the right thing and ended it,” she said.
She didn’t handle it well and said she didn’t like who she had become.
“After that decided to change myself from the core – who I was and what I wanted to do with my life,” she said.
Her father’s birthday – February 8, 2001 – was a turning point for her.
“I woke up that morning and said ‘you know what, I’m going to lose 35 pounds and I’m going to become a cop,” she said. “For me so much it wasn’t so much enforcement of the rules and the laws, but to help people when they were at their worst point,” she said.
After going through the academy, she made it through the rigorous screening process and landed a position with the Columbus Police Department, where she has served the public for the past 10 years.
In 2012, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent a double mastectomy, followed by reconstructive surgery late last summer.
“She worked a lot of the time she was sick but she was behind a desk and she really likes to be out on road on patrol,” her grandmother said.
She got a clean bill of health last fall and returned to the patrol duties she so loved.
Then the bomb came.
The cancer had returned. And it was terminal.
On March 1, she posted the following status update on her Facebook page:
“In October of 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage II, Type 3, Atypical, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma Breast Cancer. I completed five months of chemotherapy, underwent a Bilateral Mastectomy in April, with final reconstruction in August of 2013. We thought we had it all, I went back to work, and had four great months back serving the citizens. After experiencing some chest and abdominal pain, I went to the ER and discovered my Cancer has metastasized, and will now begin my fight of Stage IV Lung and Liver Cancer. They took off 1400mL of fluid off of my right lung from Pleurisy, and I will run the gamut of scans and tests next week to determine our course of action. My Oncologist said, “terminal,” but, that is just a place in the airport. I post this not to solicit words of sympathy, I have want for nothing. My only desire is to remind each and every one that the mistake humans often make, is that false belief that we always have more time. Hold your loved ones close, live life, and don’t sweat the small stuff. My long-term goal is to see my four year old walk across the stage at his High School Graduation. Short-term is Today… Just Today. When I wake up in the morning, the goal stays the same. With my incredible family, friends, and co-workers, I will fight each day and live more life in whatever time I have left than I likely would have before the diagnosis. I plan to work, learn, train, and teach. We all quest for Eidolons… that for which we leave behind. I will go in peace when the time comes knowing my legacy is that of being a positive influence on all. Thank you for reading, and do not mourn me yet. I have a lot of life to live.”
What happened next has amazed her.
“My lieutenant was familiar with my situation and he took action and decided to change his profile picture to mine and people took to it like wildfire,” she said.
Within days, hundreds of fellow police officers, firefighters, sheriff’s deputies, garbagemen, and others, all changed their Facebook profile photos to Bonnie’s in a show of support.
The photo shows a young Bonnie, cute as can be, fresh out of the academy, smiling underneath her white police hat with badge #1812, her number on the Columbus Police Department. It was one of her proudest moments, she said.
“When I went through chemotherapy the first time, I didn’t hide it,” she said, “but I didn’t broadcast it either. Plenty of times I went out without my wig and just let my bald head fly out there in the wind, or I didn’t draw on my eyebrows that day, or didn’t worry that I didn’t have any eyelashes, but I didn’t plaster it out there on social media either. I thought it would be egocentric. But with a terminal diagnosis this time, I just really had to put my big girl panties on and said if I want to impact people and live a life of service and a leave a positive message behind and get my message out there to have a sense of compassion and service to your fellow man, then I would go public. I posted it with the intention of maybe having a couple of my friends read the posts, maybe some of my high school acquaintances.”
But with more than 500 people on her friends list – and the brotherhood of the police force behind her – it didn’t take long for her message to go viral.
“It has exploded,” she said. “It has been absolutely overwhelming, mind-blowing and awe-inspiring. It has been one of the most whirlwind, mind-boggling things of my whole life. I mean, you go on your friends list, and you see you. I receive three new requests every two hours, messages just keep coming in, the overwhelming response has been phenomenal.”
One look at her Facebook page and you will see what she means.
That smiling photo of Bonnie is duplicated hundreds of times, grinning up at you from her friends feed. And the messages on her timeline – like this one – keep coming:
“Hi Bonnie…you don’t know me, but the whole FCSO [Franklin County Sheriff’s Office] has your back…if there’s anything you need, please don’t be shy—we have you in our prayers.”
“The thing I am surprised about is all the support,” her grandmother said. “1,900 strong, they are supporting her. And she is so plucky.”
The support hasn’t stopped with the Facebook photos.
Many of her fellow officers have donated their leave time to her to help her through this second battle.
“They donated over 700 hours of sick time initially,” Bonnie said, “and now to turn around not even a year later and they they are giving me days. My department has been amazing. To not have worry about where my paycheck was coming from and that my family would be taken care of…” she said.
“People keep saying they admire my courage, but that all has to do with I have been shown,” she said. “All I am doing is emulating the strength I have seen and the strong examples before me and the overwhelming love and support that everyone has shown me. It helps me fight, when I put on the uniform when I can’t breath, and when I put on the belt when my liver is in pain,” she said.
“People say we are pulling for you we are fighting for, you don’t give up,” she said. “When I beat it the first time I had to be on restricted duty for a number of months and couldn’t be out with the public. When I came back I really tried to be a very positive force and help the public see the police in a different light and really turn on the compassion and empathy for different situations. But I only got four moths from when I came back to the street to when I found this new diagnosis, and I said I’ll be back. Ten years service is not long enough. I’ve got more people to help, more to do.”
“Everybody always said they thought I was going to be famous in high school because I was always putting myself out there performing, but I never knew it was going to be for dying,” she said. “How often is it that you get to see your own memorial? And to know that you have left a verse…”
“Stories are what make us whole,” a personal column about telling Bonnie’s story
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A boy with a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulders rode into town on a too-big, black bicycle. He eyed me as he climbed off and leaned it up against an iron fence. I was standing in the “zócalo” of a village in southern Mexico. Rico strode over full of eleven-year-old curiosity and asked where I was from.
An outline of Che is spray painted on the leg of his jeans. I ask about him. Revolucioniario, he says. Héroe. Do I know him? Yes, I nod.
Rico politely tries to sell me a bag of tortillas and when I decline, seems just as content to ask me questions. How many brothers and sisters do I have? Do I have a husband? Niños? My Spanish is enough to carry me, so we chat as his friends look on. Before I know it I am surrounded by a circle of boys. Each has a bag of something to sell. Rico has tortillas, a dozen to bag, made fresh that morning by his mother. The others have cookies, candies, sweets, all homemade. I start asking their names, how old they are, why they are not in school, where is their mama and papa, where am I, what is the name of this village? Rico takes my notebook and pen and writes in neat letters: Ciudad Teopisca chiapas. Ricardo, 11, Jovani, 12, Daniel, 11, and Jorge, 6, tell me they go to school from 2:00 to 6:30 p.m. Mornings they sell food in the square to help their familias. Rico let me take his picture standing stoic but proud, holding his bag of tortillas. A solemn, dark-eyed boy, who has had to work too hard and grow up too fast. The same for all the Teopisca boys.
I wonder what Che would say.
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