Returning to school this fall was a bittersweet time for me. I was enrolled in classes for the first time since a serious bout with clinical depression forced me to drop out from Trenton State College (The College of New Jersey) in the fall of 1995. I felt I had conquered my personal demons, and was overjoyed to be back. I had just spent my first night back as a student watching movies with friends awaiting the start of classes the next day. I had the sense that this was a glorious new beginning for me.

But then something happened which quickly brought me back to reality. My friend, who lives in my dorm, had asked me to stop by his room earlier in the day. Now, returning from my night out, I thought I'd pay him a visit before retiring for the night. He had bad news for me which he tried to break as gently as possible.

"Doug... passed away during the summer," he said hesitantly.

This news was not that suprising to me. He was referring to our friend Doug Burroughs, whom I knew had been sick with cancer for a long time. The last time I talked to Doug over the summer, he had told me that the cancer was spreading. He told me that he was moving out of his apartment near campus in Project Freedom, an independent living center for people with disabilities, in order to be in the care of his parents in Maryland. I had a feeling this might happen, but you can never be quite prepared for the news.

My friend said he didn't know when it had happened, but I found out later that it had been only a few days earlier, on September 1. Doug was only 27 years old.

Needless to say, I had trouble sleeping that night. Memories kept swirling around in my head. I had had the good fortune to live right next door to Doug for three semesters, so I'd gotten to know him pretty well. I remembered frequently hearing strange electronic voices through the wall as his computer dictated what was on the screen for him to compensate for his blindness. I also remembered hearing him determinedly trying to learn to play guitar; the parties in his room with other members of Outreach, the disabled student advocacy group on the college campus, in which we were both involved. During those parties, we would watch descriptive videos, (films which have a constant audio narrative accompanying the picture to help blind people follow the action.) Finally, I thought of the counseling group he set up last fall to help disabled students with their problems. I was just descending into my depression then, and he tried to help me before I finally decided to leave school.

That was what I remember most about Doug. It was obvious to everyone that his health was gradually worsening all the time. Yet he never wanted to talk about his problems, he wanted to help others with their problems. Even the last time I talked to him, in mid-summer, I knew the end was near, but he wanted to talk about my summer and how I was. I wanted to ask him so many questions about what he was going through, what he was feeling, but that wasn't his style. He had more pride than that. He taught me about true courage and what it really meant to truly savor each day of your life. I have cerebral palsy, and people often tell me that I inspire them when they see me function in my daily life, but if there's such a thing as a food chain of inspiration, then Doug would be the next one up in line. My problems are humbling compared to what he had to face. He inspired me, and I knew I had to do something special to honor him.

Doug Burroughs was born on March 11, 1969, in Illinois, but since his family was in the military, they were transferred often, but the family settled in New Jersey, where he spent most of his life.

His medical problems started early in life. His mother, Pat, noticed problems with his eyes caused by cancer when he was 18 months old. These problems led to the removal of his left eye and massive chemotherapy treatments at that tender age. His health was fine for many years after that. The general standard for cancer is that if a patient doesn't have problems for seven years, the patient is declared cured, but the nature of Doug's disease was such that the cancer would reappear in different parts of the body later in life. His case was very unusual in that each of his cancers were different.

At age 14, bone cancer developed above the knee in his leg, which eventually had to be amputated. Again many years went by and Doug was pronounced cured. But in 1992, cancer struck again in his nasal passages and major surgery was needed. Doctors had to remove the roof of his mouth and he had to have a special plate in his mouth just to be able to talk. As well as these major operations, he had to undergo various plastic surgery procedures and surgeries to clean up lingering infections.

Through all of this, Doug tried to live as normal a life as possible. Before he lost his leg, he was quite athletic. He rode his bike, roller skated and skateboarded. He ran errands for his family. Except for his visual impairment, he was quite normal physically.

Doug graduated from high school in 1988 and decided to attend Trenton State College (now called The College of New Jersey) because of its good accessibility for the disabled. He finished his undergraduate studies in the fall of '93 and earned a degree in communications with a minor in psychology. He then decided to attend graduate school at Trenton State where he combined his major and minor to pursue a master's degree in counseling. He hoped to become a professional counselor to the disabled, but unfortunately he was not able to finish his degree before he died.

During the eight years Doug was in and around the college, he had a profound influence on the campus and the surrounding community. He was probably most widely known for his show on the campus radio station WTSR. The show, which eventually came to be called The Experience, focused on blues music, and has been ongoing since 1990. It is continued today by Doug's partner for the last four years, Daphne Rodriquez.

His voice was probably the most distinguishable part of the show. Since surgery had deformed his face and taken the roof of his mouth, he did not enunciate as clearly as most DJs, but what he lacked in technical skill he made up for in attitude and knowledge of his subject. His voice reflected the cool, laid-back relaxed, humorous style of a jazz DJ.

Doug and Daphne shared many ideas for the show, but it was Doug who came up with most of the themes. "For the most part, Doug handled the bulk of the show," recalled Rodriquez. "This really was his show. I was just here to help him out. He never made me feel it wasn't my show too, but, for the most part, I relied on Doug to do the programming."

The main source of material for the show came from Doug's music collection. As a mobile DJ in high school and college and an avid lover of music, Doug collected all kinds of music, but his prime interest was blues. By the end of his life, his overall collection, including CDs, records and tapes, numbered into the thousands, most of which were brailled as that became necessary.

Rodriquez intends to keep the show going as long as possible. "I can't fill the spot Doug did," she said. "I can do the show the way I know how to do it. I always keep Doug in mind. I'm sure he's right here now. Whenever I do this show he's here."

Doug was also an integral part of Outreach, which advocates for disabled students and spreads awareness and understanding of the needs and problems of disabled students to other students and faculty. A long-time president of the organization, Doug was responsible for many improvements in disabled accessibility on the campus. Ann Degennaro, coordinator for the office for students with differing abilities at the college, remembered him as an integral factor in improvements made in lighting, doors, rooms and computer equipment for the disabled on campus.

For a person with a disability, Doug was very self-sufficient. He was determined to be as independent as possible. In class, he insisted no professor give him a break because of his disability. He made sure he had all the services he needed, such as notetakers, beforehand. He took the time to introduce himself to professors the semester before he had a class with them. If he had to miss a class, he'd find a way to make the work up. He didn't want or need any favors.

His self-sufficiency extended to his working and living environments as well. He managed for many years to live on his own in a college dorm room. After moving out of the dorms, he moved into an independent living center called Project Freedom, where he successfully adapted to a second-floor room. He was able to put on all the equipment he needed and administer all the medications he took all by himself up until the last few months of his life. He astounded the nurses who worked with him, and they made a film of him doing all these things, which they still show to patients.

He also left his mark on the school as a student, especially in his graduate student work in the counseling department, which gave him an honorary award this spring, complete with a plaque, named the Professional Commitment Award.

"All of the faculty was so impressed with his dedication and his willingness to overcome all odds to pursue his degree," said Marion Cavallaro, head of the counseling and personnel services department at the college. "The manner in which he did it, with such courage. He always had a sense of humor about him when he faced such adversity." "He was an asset to many of our classes because of what he had to offer," Cavallaro said. "I think he taught the other students a lot because he was so willing to share with the other students what it was like for him; not in a self-pitying manner, but more in a way that was instructional. He was a really good role model. I think he taught many of the students what other people who might be like him would be going through. They had maybe never thought about it before."

But below all these public personas lay the most memorable part of Doug's personality -- his undefeatable spirit and enthusiasm for life. For those who knew him well, this manifested itself most in his personal friendships with them. At the memorial service, a boyhood friend of Doug's remembered a time they were in the mall with a group of friends. Doug had an accident and his artificial leg came off. Instead of being embarrassed, he laughed it off, and refused to have the leg put back on in the store. His friends carried it for him while he hopped on one leg all the way to the car.

Doug's sense of humor was one of his best qualities. Gayle Chin, a senior elementary education and biology major remembered this during one of her first meetings with Doug. Noticing the eye patch he wore over his bad eye, she said, "You remind me of a pirate. Do you have a pirate's chest?"

Doug replied, "Let me take off my shirt and find out."

"After that, I jokingly called him 'my pirate'," Chin said. "He never took his shirt off for me. He had that much class."

One specific incident Chin remembered illustrates best Doug's compassion for people. She was upset after she had broken up with a boyfriend. Doug sent her a secret message in Braille, and would not tell her what it said. Finally, he mailed her the Braille alphabet and when she decoded it, she discovered it contained the lyrics of a song about a student who writes a love letter to his English teacher and she grammatically corrects it. The words were, "I love you period..Do you love me question mark... I want to hold you in parentheses...etc."

"No matter what happened, Doug found a way to make me smile," Chin said.

One thing Doug was always looking for was an intimate relationship with a woman. Like all of us, he wanted to be loved. Finding someone who wants to be more than friends is a very difficult task for any person who has a physical disability, especially for someone with as many disabilities as Doug had. This problem was a source of frustration for him for a long time, but he had faith that the right woman for him would come along.

Then one day in the last couple years of his life, she did. Doug started a relationship with a woman he had known since grade school who was also visually impaired. They were a cute couple, and eventually they got engaged. Unfortunately, in the final months of Doug's life, they broke off the engagement. Although it didn't have a fairy tale ending, Doug's relationship gave the rest of the disabled community hope.

"He had strength and courage, not only of mind, but also of spirit and body," Chin said. "I don't know anyone who could try to overcome that stuff and succeed as well as he did."

"The night before he died, he said, 'Mom, things are bad, but they're going to get better,'" his mother said. "I don't know if he said that because he knew he was going to pass on, or if he really thought he was going to get better. He believed he would beat it. He had all the hope in the world he could beat it, but I think somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew otherwise."

"He always said, 'You gotta do what you gotta do.'"

That was the Doug Burroughs I knew -- a fighter to the very end.

Doug's death has had an impact on a national level. A Doug Burroughs Foundation has been established, and his parents said that the National Federation for the Blind is establishing a scholarship in his name. Also, Dick Waterman, an influencial person in the blues business who manages Bonnie Raitt among others, was a friend of Doug's. Doug's parents said Waterman plans to write an article about Doug to contribute to one of his blues pages on the internet.