After the Call Comes the Visit

As you know, last week I got The Call - my father informed me he had cancer. Yesterday, I joined him for his visit to the oncologist. Late last week, he had an MRI and a PET scan to determine to what degree the melanoma has spread to other parts of his body. Yesterday was the meeting to get the results -- I had prepared myself for a dire diagnosis.

It is with great joy and an overwhelming sense of relief that I can report the doctor delivered the best possible news. The MRI and PET scan revealed the rest of his body is cancer free! The only remaining cancer is locally contained in a few lymph nodes under his left arm. The doctor believes it can all be removed in one additional surgery and may not need any post-op chemotherapy. What a relief.

I took him home and we had a chance to talk. He was extremely relieved and as we discussed our fears about the alternate scenarios, he got emotional and glassy eyed. Mind you, Spartacus does not cry, but I think he'd been keeping a lot of fear and emotion bottled up and it all just hit him in that moment. We both let out a big sigh of relief and sat quietly for a while.

So, it looks like he's going to be sticking around a while longer, and for that, we are both extremely happy.

The Call

Well it finally happened. I got the call every child dreads -- my father called to tell me he's been diagnosed with cancer. He was stoic, even detached in his delivery of the information, which I have come to recognize as his technique to cover up his worry. I know he's scared, but he would never let on. And now, everything changes, all because of a single phone call. How many times has this same scenario played itself out in the kitchens of homes throughout the country? And what are the outcomes? The mind races with the possibilities -- both good and bad!!

He doesn't know much, except that it's serious -- doctors removed a swollen gland from his left armpit the size of a golf ball and one from his right armpit that was even larger. Both were biopsied and determined to be malignant with melanoma. He will be having a PET scan and an MRI this week to determine how widespread and at what stage the cancer has developed. We will all be sweating out the next few days.

My dad has been battling skin cancer for many years. Once a quarter he's been seeing a dermatologist to have bad looking lesions removed. He wears protective clothing and a hat and religiously applies sun block -- now. But he didn't always. For years, he allowed himself to be exposed to the sun unprotected and now he is paying for his folly. But this is different -- this cancer has moved inside his body and is in the lymph nodes. All his ailments up to now: arthritis, high blood pressure, neuropathy and heart valve surgery have been light work compared to the big C -- cancer. This is time, I'm scared too.

A tough year for the Knuckleheads

As I wrote a few posts back, one of the Knuckleheads passed away suddenly a few weeks ago. It was unexpected and tragic, but apparently not all that the Knuckleheads would have to endure. At the funeral, we found out that one of the older guys, Don Ryan, the sixty-ish father of two of the charter Knuckleheads had discovered 3 lesion on his lungs that needed to be biopsied. The results of the final tests are still pending, but we already know it's cancer which will require chemotherapy and radiation treatment. We are all now assuming that Don will not be able to play in the tournament in June, so we will need to find two alternates to round out our group of 12. Well maybe 3....

I found out yesterday that another Knucklehead has been hit with tragedy. Jim McAllister has participated in Seaview for the last 8 or 9 years. He is a good friend and contemporary of Don Ryan's and is also in his sixties. I've always enjoyed Jimmy's company. He is a jovial Irishman that's quick with a smile and is easy to talk to. He owns a business that sells, delivers and assembles wooden sheds of various sizes. He has been married for over 30 years with three grown children. I've never met his family, but we've often discussed his children and Jim's frustration that neither of his two sons have any interest in joining him in the business. He's always spoken very proudly of his daughter who is a med student in Boston.

That's right folks, Jimmy's daughter is Megan McAllister -- yes, THAT Megan McAllister! Jimmy, Megan and the family are holed up in his home in New Jersey. The media attention has been brutal -- TV trucks have surrounded his house and they are now captives in their own home. I can't imagine what they are going through, but I've got to believe they feel lucky that the wedding never took place and that they dodged a huge bullet. Only time will tell how this all turns out, but one thing I know for sure, Jimmy's life will not return to normal for quite some time.

They say things come in threes, so perhaps the Knuckleheads are now in the clear, but it has been a difficult time for this group of my friends. Please keep Don and Jim in your thoughts and prayers -- they both have some difficult times ahead.

Losing one of the Knuckleheads

A few months ago, the father of one of my friends died unexpectedly. The friend, Scott Nelson, is part of a group I affectionately refer to as "the Knuckleheads." This is a group of mostly high school friends that get together several times a year to play golf, drink beer and make fun of each other. It's very immature behavior and the older I get the more I cherish my time with these guys. We've been getting together 3 or 4 times a year for 20 years. As I drove to the funeral, I lamented to myself, "I've entered that phase of my life where the parents of my contemporaries are beginning to die."

I lost my mother when I was 11, but that's unusual. Being born in 1961, my contemporaries parents are mostly between 68 to 85 -- so statistically, they will begin to pass away soon. It's a sad, but also a natural part of life. Mr. Nelson's death was sudden and painful for his family and scary for us, Scott's friends, because we all knew it could have been any one of us at the head of the receiving line at the funeral home. A discomforting and sobering reality.

The only good part of the funeral was it gave the Knuckleheads a chance to get together. They came in their suits and some brought their wives -- two rare commodities at a Knucklehead gathering. We pulled together and closed ranks around our grieving friend and as a group, we tried to help. I'm sure some of the others harbored the same fear I did -- will I be next? Will I be the next to bury a parent? None of us could have have imagined how misplaced our fears were.

Rick Becker came to the Nelson funeral with his wife Dawn. I've know Rick for 20 years, yet I'd never met Dawn. It was nice to finally meet her. I hadn't seen Rick since the previous June. He looked the same as always -- the only difference was that he'd quit drinking in an attempt to lose some weight. Ricky is not fat, but like all of us, he could stand to lose 10 - 15 pounds. We spent 10 minutes getting caught up and discussing our upcoming annual golf trip to Seaview in June. Then we all left -- back to our lives.

On Monday, March 2nd, I received an e-mail from one of the Knuckleheads saying that Rick had experienced a seizure over the weekend. While at the hospital, another seizure occurred. He was admitted and a series of tests ensued. Rick was diagnosed with stage 3 or 4 melanoma. An undetected growth on his back had metastasized and the cancer had already spread to his brain and liver. The top melanoma specialist at Sloane Kettering was engaged and a new experimental drug therapy was begun on March 9th. All the Knuckleheads were hopeful we'd see Rick at Seaview in June.

On Sunday, Rick was admitted to the I.C.U. at Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey. In two weeks, the tumors in his brain had grown 5 fold and were restricting the flow of blood to his brain. By Monday morning, he had slipped into a coma. Today, he died. Dead at 42, leaving a wife and 2 young children. Dead in less than a month from the original diagnosis. It's not supposed to happen this way -- this is not one of the phases everyone must go through. We should not have to bury our friends this early. And yet, the Knuckleheads will gather at another funeral -- this time to bury one of our own. It's just so sad.