The man leans back in his chair, a barely audible grunt escaping as all the pressure leaves his feet. He’s been standing all day; the office chair doesn’t usually have the chance to cradle his weight.

He looks at his feet, healthy with wear and covered in sandals with worn khaki shorts to match. Running a bait-and-tackle shop is by no means a formal affair, and that suits Mo Shaver just fine. It’s March; warm weather is on the way. That means more fishing, which means more business.

The bookkeeper slides into the office, a fistful of bright white paper in her hand, more BP contracts soliciting his signature. She pulls up a chair, and they get to work.

Mo picks up a pen, the point destined to scrawl his name on the bottom line, makes a comment to Brandy, the bookkeeper.

Without warning, the pen falls to the floor with a plastic thud. The sensation moves swiftly through his body. His fingers have contracted into a fist, glued together by stubborn muscles and pulsing nerves. He can’t move it.

“Are you having a stroke?”

The words race to Mo’s brain, but Brandy’s continuing questions and increasing anxiety seem to signify the worst. He is not speaking. His jaw is locked into place, silence wiring his teeth together.

Mo is having a seizure.

“I knew it wasn’t normal,” Shaver says. “It was so quick, it came out of nowhere. I was mid-sentence, and 30 seconds later I was unconscious. Coming out of it was a blur.”

Mo is taken to South Baldwin Regional Medical Center by a paramedic neighbor after refusing an ambulance. A CT scan divulges a bad bit of news; a brain tumor is what caused his seizure. Whether or not it is malignant is unclear.

He is transported to USA Medical Center in Mobile, where he spends the night. Doctors schedule a craniotomy, a procedure where the skull is cut and opened, to remove the tumor.

Mo seized on March 3, his surgery is scheduled for March 11.

After the procedure, doctors take a sample from the biopsy for testing.

Two weeks after the procedure, Mo gets a call from his doctors. It’s more bad news.

Mo has been diagnosed with brain cancer, a hostile tumor that traps its victims in a damning prognosis.

Glioblastoma multiforme. Uncommon. Aggressive.

‘I’m not a statistic’

For those diagnosed with the deadly affliction, the outlook is heart-wrenchingly grim.

Glioblastoma multiforme, or GBM 4, is a stage four primary malignant brain tumor. It is known to be one of the most aggressive forms of brain cancer. Even when the tumor is removed, it has a rapid growth rate. 

“Basically, if you have brain cancer, it’s the worst you can have because it grows back quickly,” Jen Shaver, Mo’s wife, said.

Primarily, the disease inflicts itself on patients over the age of 50, and tends to affect males more than females. The tumor originates in the brain. With no link to any genetic predisposition apparent, the cancer is generally thought to be caused by some sort of radiation or viral infection.

According the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, around 9,000 to 10,000 cases of GBM 4 are reported each year in the United States.

Of any malignancy affecting the central nervous system, GBM 4 has one of the worst prognoses for survival, with the average survival time being one to two years.

When stacked up, the statistics can seem imposing and overwhelming. Although the outlook is dire, Mo Shaver will not succumb to the dismal prospects.

“The statistics are bad, but that’s statistics,” Mo Shaver said. “I’m not a statistic.”

“I’m not mad. I’m going to bow up and walk on through,” he said.

Life is good

The Shavers walked into the Orange Beach United Methodist Church on a warm Tuesday evening in May for a get-together organized by programs director Jonathan Langston. It had been roughly eight weeks since Mo’s diagnosis.

Yet, the family still smiled as they walked in the door, carrying in the warmth from outside. They hug, they chat. A genuine happiness has embedded itself in their body language.

His wife of six years, Jen, cradled her pregnant belly while their three-year-old son laughed and played, ruffling her dress as he ran in circles around her. The little boy’s name is Felix Stone, but he likes to go by Stone. He’s tough, just like Dad.

The most difficult aspect of coping with the news has been concern for his family, Mo said.

“We told him that Daddy had a ‘boo boo’ on his brain and they had to fix it with a special saw, which he loved. He loves tools.” Jen said.

“He’s an inquisitive kid. We have to be honest with him. He’s resilient, you know? He’s handling it well,” she said.

As she talks about pregnancy with another church member, Jen rubs her stomach. Michlynne Olivia will be here in July; her imminent arrival keeps the family positive.

“I mean, thank goodness, right?” Jen Shaver said. “She’s just one more thing to look forward to.”

Despite what could be a crushing burden, the Shavers press on with an unbridled optimism.

“Of course, it’s different. I’ve gone from working seven days a week for 12 years, to staying home and being told to take it easy,” Mo said. “It’s definitely a change, but it didn’t seem like the end of the world, by any means. It’s another stepping stone. I’m lucky to wake up and smile and be happy.”

If the diagnosis of brain cancer ever laid a weight on the charter boat captain’s shoulders, the outpouring of support from the community has weighed even heavier on his heart.

“How do you thank people?” Mo said, looking around at his fellow church members. “It’s flooring, and touching. I don’t know what to say to thank them.”

Since news of his diagnosis permeated the public, two large fundraisers have been established to help raise money for the Shavers’ medical bills.

Merchants participated in a benefit on April 14 hosted by Joey Ward at the North Shore Grill at San Roc Cay for the Shavers. Silent auctions, tip jars, and raffles attracted thousands of people to rally for the Orange Beach native.

Friends of the family set up the “Fishin’ for Miracles” fundraiser, a fishing tournament that pumped more funds into relief efforts for the family. There is also an account set up at Regions Bank to receive donations.

“It’s nice to see that people are genuinely great. These are beautiful people. To see so much crap on TV, to see this side of things is great,” Shaver said.

For now, the Shavers will have to wait for results to come while Mo continues to defy the prognosis. In the meantime, Mo spends time with his son at home and takes solace in his faith. He is adamant that brain cancer isn’t the cataclysmic ending that doctors have promised him.

“I can’t belly up. It’s not going to beat me,” he said.

“I have a beautiful wife, beautiful child, an incredible community,” he said. “Life is good.”