Asthma?
June 3, 2002
I was running one or two miles each day. I was frustrated because my running milage was dropping instead of improving. I was coughing quite a bit. Asthma! It got worse as each season came, and my running stamina continued to decline. I was using inhalers and steroids to control the asthma, but it continued to worsen, and my running didn’t improve. I dropped from 15 miles at a clip to one or two miles maximum. Even a 5K was now out of reach for me. Nevertheless, I was conditioning for the Breast Cancer 5K I ran every year with my daughter, Laura. I blamed my lack of running stamina on both asthma and using different muscles to ride my bicycle the 1,500‑2,500 miles I rode every season. I had read somewhere that bike riders don’t make good runners and visa‑versa...
A Taste of Scarlet
June 4, 2002
Christian, my oldest son, and I were returning from a CPR re‑certification class. I was coughing particularly hard that day. Suddenly, after one particularly violent cough I was startled by the unmistakable taste of blood – lots of blood. I spit it out and coughed up even MORE blood. By the time we got home, I was coughing up blood at an alarming rate. We went straight to the emergency room at our local hospital. Within an hour, I found myself in a room. A week later, after lots of tests, speculation, more tests and LOTS of steroids, I was discharged with more questions than answers.
Biopsy
June 28, 2002
After two weeks of ineffectual steroids and antibiotics, I insisted they do a lung biopsy. They
resisted, but I insisted. I had to know what exotic disease was making my life so miserable. I, and they, honestly did not suspect cancer at this point. I got the biopsy – it was GREEN – and went home to wait.
The Sentence
July 1, 2002
After nearly a month of tests and prodding and theories and counter‑theories and probes and worry and feeble prayers, here I was standing in a pulmonary specialist’s office waiting to find the results of the biopsy. He didn’t have the report yet so he called. He was on the phone for about five minutes, expressing disbelief and asking if the results had been re‑examined. He finally hung up the phone, turned to me with a bewildered expression and said in a stressed voice, “You have lung cancer.” I calmly replied, “OK, so where do I go from here?” “It’s in both lungs; it’s inoperable. I suppose you should seek a medical oncologist.” “OK, I’ve heard of Dr. Kim at UPMC, get me in to see him.” Inside, I could feel myself beginning to collapse. I wondered if I could drive home. He called and had an appointment for the 3rd.
I walked out the door, got into my car, drove home, and calmly announced to Carol, my wife, “Huh!
Can you imagine?
I have lung cancer.”
She thought I was joking, but quickly realized by my expression that I was not.
Her dad died of lung cancer.
She wept for me.
I couldn’t.
Two Years
July 3, 2002
On a warm sunny Friday afternoon, Carol and I met with Dr. Kim, a staff oncologist with the
UPMC Hillman Cancer Center. I was still reeling from the shock. We had finally told our children (young adults now) the night before. It still amazes me how three humans all spawned from the same gene pool can be so completely different: Christian, 20 at the time was calm and reassuring. He just felt from the beginning that his old man would beat this, still does. Franklin, 18, was stoic. He just packed the fear and grief away and tried to pretend that nothing had changed – ignore it and it will go away, still is. Laura, my youngest, 16, cried and went into a deep and angry depression which lasted for nearly two years, she’s doing well now and, ahem, studying to be a nurse at Carlow University. I asked Dr. Kim what were my odds. He said he didn’t like to speculate, but with my relative youth and athletic lifestyle, I should survive for at least two years. The room swayed a bit, I stiffened a bit and I must confess something to you – I WISH I could say that all kinds of noble thoughts went through my mind and soul, but all I could think about was to wonder if I would be alive to see the third and final movie of “The Lord of the Rings” which would not be presented for MORE than two years. That’s it! Pathetic, huh?! HAHA!
Dr. Kim started me on an experimental protocol immediately. He reassured me that there was an enormous supply of protocol drugs available and that new ones were being created several times a year. The protocol drugs were leading edge and I would be under the care of the... TA‑DAH...
Hillman Cancer Center, one of the top five cancer research centers in the nation. I would get my
two years, by golly! During the eight months I was treated at Hillman I was never given a “standard” chemo drug. My treatments were experimental, as was I. I should interject here that Dr. Brunk has never used an experimental protocol on me. He says I am not a Guinea pig. Think about the ethical differences here. During my “treatment” at UPMC, I did ask about such things as diet. I was told to eat anything I desired. Just eat! Don’t worry! No more vitamins, the cancer just gets them first. At CTCA my diet and nutrition were spun upside down. I was educated as to how proper diet and nutrition will improve my treatment, boosting my immunity system and mitigating the side effects of chemotherapy. Ponder these differences between UPMC and CTCA.
God and the healing power of Jesus was an afterthought at Hillman. Sure, go ahead and pray, it’s harmless as long as it doesn’t interfere with the real heal deal with real doctors. At CTCA God, specifically Jesus, is given first seat. We are encouraged to seek out a healing and a powerful God and to bring our treatment in line with His will. Think of the spiritual differences presented here. About a week after I started treatment, I saw a CTCA ad on television. I called and received an information packet the following day. I read it cover to cover. It looked too good to be true. I took it in to Dr. Kim during my weekly chemo and asked him. He shook his head and left no doubt in my mind that CTCA was an evil place that would treat me with quackery and send me away dead – and broke. That was good enough for me; I threw the CTCA information into the trash. About a year after I started at CTCA Dr. Brunk informed me that I had a bit of metastasis in my neck. He encouraged me to find someone at home who could provide the needed radiation therapy. He told me that it was in a pretty easy spot and that if I got it done at home it would impact my business much less than if I stayed down here for a 10‑minutes per day treatment lasting one to two weeks. He said CTCA would provide all of the records and information required by whomever I found at home. Ponder the difference between a selfish lie for my business and a selfless concern for my, uh, business.
No Rides This Summer
Summer, 2002
I rode my bike 0 miles. I was proud that I could walk the track for a mile or two once or twice a week. Friends were praying for me. I was learning that my God is a BIG God. As my health continued to decline, my faith in God continued to increase. I was learning to love the time I had left. I wanted all I could get. I began to study my condition. The more I learned, the less comfortable I became with UPMC and the more I began to wonder if there wasn’t a better way.
The End? I Don’t Think So!
February, 2003
“It’s not working! There is nothing more we can do!” Those were the words from Dr. Kim that
greeted Carol and me as Dr. Kim entered the room. We looked at him in disbelief. “What happened to the ‘endless supply of therapies’ you promised me?” “I’m sorry, but nothing seems to work. Just try to make the most of what time you have left.” Carol and I both knew that wouldn’t be long. I could hardly breathe and I coughed constantly – and violently. We went home bewildered and desperate. The phone rang. It was my dear friend Linda from Kokomo, Indiana. She had a friend with whom she INSISTED that I speak. His name was Owen Sibert and he was cured of cancer in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at a hospital called Cancer Treatment Centers of America. I already knew of it (or so I thought), but agreed to talk to Owen. He told me a story of being treated for months at his local cancer center then dropped and told he had 30 days to live – two years ago! Nine weeks at CTCA had delivered him from his 30-day death sentence. Maybe this CTCA place deserved another look. I called. Carol and I flew down for a “second opinion.” The rest is history.
Back in the Saddle, Again
Summer, 2003
I rode my bike over 1,000 miles. I was running two out of three miles at the track by the end of
summer. I ran in the Breast Cancer 5K here in Tulsa, representing CTCA. Jesus and I were getting pretty close by now. My experiences with CTCA encouraged me to trust Him more and more. Jesus IS the cure at CTCA, the medicine is secondary. That should never change.
The Return of the King
Christmas, 2003
I saw the final offering of “The Lord of the Rings” It was worth the wait. From my family I received a Bianchi Boron Centurion road bike. Sweet! I was supposed to get a coffin, I got a road bike. From Jesus I received another year of quality life. By His stripes I was healed¼ For Christmas, what could I give in return? I gave Him my life and my spiritual growth as a human being. I know I got the better deal.
Groundbreaking
February 28, 2004
CTCA invited me to the Groundbreaking Ceremony for the new hospital. It’s a patient‑based design. Perhaps, too patient‑based. The staff seems to be an afterthought. I have observed their worries about the efficiency of their spaces; yet they shrug and thrill in knowing that it is such a unique facility. They never seem to lose track of their goal here; the welfare of their patients is foremost, even when it means, in some cases, severe inconvenience for individual staff members. This hole in the ground is beautiful. I will place my keepsake spade and hard hat in a place of honor at my home.
Still Riding Along – And Looking Pretty Good for a Dead Guy
Summer, 2004
I rode my bike nearly 1,000 miles. The only reason it wasn’t more was because of an abundance of crappy Pittsburgh weather, kids graduating, a lot of work at my business and monthly trips to CTCA. I was running two out of three miles at the track by the end of summer. My treatments at CTCA were monthly. My quality of life much better than the eight months at UPMC. I saw Jesus in every blue sky, every cloud, every mountain and in the eyes of every child. I realized how much I love being alive. God made me to love my life – just not more than Him. No problem, He’s easy to love.
Two years and Still Goin’ STRONG!
February 18, 2005
It has now been longer than two years since UPMC “confidently” informed there was nothing left to give me any hope. Two years since Carol and I flew to Tulsa for the first time and were impressed by a dedicated and caring staff of cancer doctors, nurses, therapists, clergymen, volunteers and fellow cancer patients to carry all of the hope and trust I’m capable of holding. I’ve been through a few ups and downs, but I’m still riding and running (power waddling); I’m still operating a business and I’m still watching my children grow and mature into independent adults. Two more years added to a 33 year journey with my beloved wife, Carol. Two more years to try to bring the grace and glory AND healing of the Lord to others who cross into my life. Two more years to deliver as many forlorn souls from the clutches of greedy and godless mercenaries into the arms of CTCA. Two years of hope, tears, laughter, anger, work, play, lame jokes, trust, suspicion, prayer, sometimes curses¼two years of life.
Movie Star
April 1, 2005
As I type this, I’m sitting on a teensy Bombardier airplane headed for my Tulsa connection in
Memphis. I’m not flying down for treatment, I’m flying down to appear in a television ad to promote CTCA and the new building in Tulsa. You folks are actually going to put this mug on national television! HA! I’ll do my best to be a good boy, but I’m not exactly the most mature guy you could have chosen, I’ll do my best to keep my sophomoric sense of humor in check. HA!
I would do anything for CTCA.
You have all given me back my life.
I am pragmatic enough to know that I have LUNG cancer. It may get me sometime in the future, but not today.
Not when UPMC said it would.
No dates, no promises, just hope!
I have salvation, I have hope, I have a life!
I have a fighting chance.
I can work with that.
My Advice
Present
As long as you never lose track of where you have come from, where you are going, who you are, who are your patients and most important, who is boss (God), this hospital will soar above all ofthe purposeless, greedy, godless whitewashed sepulchers who try to compete with you. AND maybe, just maybe, after they have lost enough patients – and money, they will open their minds, learn from you and standard cancer treatment/research will finally find a heart.