The pain shot through his shoulder.

It was early 2006. Jerry Phan, 29, of Costa Mesa, Calif., was training to play semi-pro volleyball for the Renegades, a team in Australia.

But his serves were killing him. He had the same when he practiced defense. He finally broke down and had to go to the doctor.

""When I passed the ball to the right, it would just kill like crazy,"" Phan said.

Where a lot of people would have suspected a strain or some other kind of sports injury, Phan feared the worst, given his medical history.

He was first diagnosed with a rare form of cancer when he was 19 and attending Loyola Marymount University, and he subsequently went into remission.

Now, during his senior year at the Prescott, Arizona campus of Embry-Riddle, the most prestigious aeronautical university in the country, his ugly nemesis was back inside him with a vengeance.

The local hospital, seeing his history, sent him straight to the Mayo Clinic. Oncologists there confirmed his fears, and to his horror, suggested amputating the arm where the tumor was entrenched among Phan’s shoulder joints.

Refusing to throw away all the work he had done to become a pilot and athlete, Phan told his doctors his arm was staying right where it was. He went to one of the only specialists in the world who is an expert on his form of cancer — paraganglioma. It’s a disease whose sufferers are measured in dozens rather than hundreds or thousands.

In other words, doctors are primarily in the dark when it comes to paraganglioma — its incidence is so rare, there are virtually no statistics on which to base treatment and prognosis.

With his sports dreams on hold and the new diagnosis, Phan was also trying to make it through his rigorous senior year studying national security and intelligence at Embry-Riddle.

Stressed by the rigorous coursework and struggling emotionally with his diagnosis, he joined a cancer support group — full of members with deteriorating health.

""A lot of them were in pretty bad condition,"" Phan said. ""Because of where the university was, they had to travel several hundred miles to get their treatments. It was costing about $500 a trip for them to take a taxi.""

So, even as he was dealing with his own disease, approaching finals and initial radiation treatments to stabilize the cancer now attacking his bones and organs, Phan, his roommate and a friend organized an air taxi service to help his fellow cancer patients make it to distant hospitals.

""My friends and I, we had just become pilots,"" Phan said. ""I thought we could do something for them. I had to stay up all night drinking Rockstars (energy drinks) to advance myself in aviation. I figured I could help them by doing what I do best — to fly.""

""The patients that needed treatments, I would fly them to the hospitals and sit there and do my homework while they were getting their treatments, and then fly them back.""

Meanwhile, Phan’s specialist, Dr. Paul Fitzgerald at U.C. San Francisco, said he had some hope of keeping all his limbs and still beating his disease — a special radioactive isotope had pushed some patients with paraganglioma into complete remission.

The problem was, this radioactive substance amounted to a rare and dangerous poison — difficult to manufacture and in such short supply, the Food and Drug Administration would not allow Fitzgerald to use any of it on Phan.

""I went to a specialist in San Francisco, and he said, "This is what I need,""" Phan said. """The problem is, we can’t get it because the FDA won’t allow it."""

But Phan didn’t care what the FDA had to say.

""I came this far, and I just wouldn’t take no for an answer,"" he said. ""I just became a pilot, I just graduated college, I just can’t give up everything I’ve worked my whole life for.""

So Phan started writing letters to people in power, trying to cut through the bureaucratic barriers around his hope for a cure. So did the members of the Cancer Society support group — some of whom he was still ferrying by air from Prescott 100 miles south over rugged mountains to clinics in Phoenix, or 100 miles north to Flagstaff hospitals.

""I did a few trips — if there was any question where I was a little out of it, I wouldn’t fly,"" Phan said.

Finally, in late spring of 2006, he started getting calls from the offices of U.S. Sen. John McCain, (R-Ariz.), and U.S. Sen. Jon Kyl, (R-Ariz.) Things moved quickly. The FDA released Phan’s isotope to Dr. Fitzgerald and the senators helped clear the insurance company authorizations that could have taken years for such a rare and expensive treatment.

By August of 2006, Phan was ready to undergo the drastic radiation therapy.

""They secured me in a lead room for quite some time, and they injected the isotopes in me, and then they pretty much all ran out," Phan recalled.

""From that point on, I’m emitting radiation. When my friends and family come to visit me, they have to wear special suits — I don’t know what they’re called, but they have these big Darth Vader gloves, and they’re only allowed to see me a few minutes at a time.""

Doctors were fascinated by Phan’s response to the radiation. Because he was in such good shape, his body metabolized the isotopes more quickly than other patients. His progress is shedding new light on his rare disease, helping doctors figure out the best treatments.

Phan, who has returned home to live with his family in Costa Mesa, is still waiting to find out whether the treatment had an effect. In the meantime, his personal trainers at CATZ gym in Anaheim are in close consultation with his doctors. They have Phan on a regimen of strength training and aerobic exercise, and doctors are monitoring the effects the physical training has on his treatment.

Though his health issues are too complicated now to continue flying cancer patients to hospitals, he still flies on the weekends when weather permits.

""We had to stop because my medical stuff became too intense,"" Phan said.

As far as his volleyball career, Phan says the Australian team has kept an opening for him in the next season. If all goes well, he’ll leave to play for the Renegades in September, and get back to the life he’s been fighting to regain these past three years.