Read Time: 3 minutes
Cancer has a way of upending life, changing everything in its path. For those who have walked this journey, milestones, big and small, become touchstones of hope, and sometimes, those moments have a sound: the ringing of a bell.
Karon Cook knew this all too well. Her connection to Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah began long before her own diagnosis. “My husband had been treated for chronic myelomonocytic leukemia here. We spent countless hours in the infusion room. It was a tight-knit space where strangers became friends.”
A bell stood nearby, waiting for patients to celebrate their victories, a tradition started in 1996 at many cancer centers nationwide. Some might have found its presence bittersweet, knowing they might never get to ring it themselves. But for her and her husband, it was a source of joy. Each time it rang, they cheered for others, shaking hands and sharing smiles.
“It was like a therapy circle,” Karon recalls. “We celebrated the highs and the lows together.”
Her husband passed away in 2012. But even in his absence, the bonds formed in those rooms remained. She stayed close with another widow who had lost her husband to cancer. It was a connection forged in shared grief but sustained by kindness and strength.
Seven years later, cancer came for her, too. In December 2019, Karon was diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer. The news was devastating, but within hours of her first appointment someone from Huntsman Cancer Institute called her.
“They said, ‘We would like to help you,’” Karon says. “That simple phrase settled my soul. It was as if a hand had reached out to steady me when the world felt like it was falling apart.”
When the pandemic struck, Karon’s world became even smaller. Her children, fearful of putting her at risk, kept their distance. She relied entirely on the people within the walls of Huntsman Cancer Institute for care and connection. It was here that she found treatment and comfort. The staff showed up for her in ways that transcended their job descriptions.
“They were willing to be brave,” Karon says, “and they made sure I didn’t feel like an outcast.”
The pandemic altered the rituals of celebration, too. The bell was removed for safety reasons and replaced with a gong outside Huntsman Cancer Institute. The change broke her heart, but she drew strength from history. During World War II, sailors would also ring eight bells at night to signal peace and safety. That message of hope meant something more to Karon.
“‘All is well’ doesn’t have to mean a cure,” she says. “It could mean walking without oxygen, standing from a chair without help, or even simply finding joy in a single moment.”
The staff at the Linda B. and Robert B. Wiggins Wellness and Integrative Health Center at Huntsman Cancer Institute helped Karon embrace her small victories. They taught her how to breathe again, how to rebuild strength and confidence, how to thrive. She learned to find celebration in what once seemed ordinary—dropping a pen and picking it up herself, the sun on her face during a walk with her grandson, the kindness of a hand on her arm during treatment.
For her, the bell was more than a sound. It was a reminder that life, even in its darkest moments, still held something worth celebrating. So, when the pandemic ended, Karon and her family donated a new bell, created by them, which now stands in the Jon M. Huntsman Cancer Research Center at Huntsman Cancer Institute.
In addition to this physical gift, Karon also wishes to pass on her message.
“You’re going to be okay. Life won’t always be easy, but if you look for them, you’ll find moments of joy. Celebrate them. Ring a bell. Strike a gong. Let the world know all is well, even for just a moment. Those moments—they’re everything.”
The critical research happening every day at Huntsman Cancer Institute is supported by the National Institutes of Health/National Cancer Institute, including cancer center support grant P30 CA042014, as well as Huntsman Cancer Foundation.