Damn Cancer - June 1, 2012

Part 1 - The discovery

It was Friday, June 1^st when Dr. Shannon finally reached me at nine in the evening to tell me that I had stomach cancer. He had been trying since early afternoon. He said the preliminary report had come in, and that was enough to make the call necessary.

The first indication of trouble occurred on about March 22, a little over two months before. Mary and I were in San Diego eating dinner at the hotel. I noticed food went down with some difficulty, seemed to stick, water helped. I thought maybe I had neglected to chew. Thereafter the same thing happened at times and I made a point of chewing more thoroughly. In April I started to have a “heavy” feeling in my stomach at times.  This was mostly a distraction, not uncomfortable, but definitely different that any sensation I’d felt before. It was irregular in timing. I cannot say that it occurred right after eating or followed any set activity - maybe toward evenings.  We heard that the stomach flew was going around, and Mary seemed to have symptoms similar during this period, but lacked the swallowing problem. The “heavy” stomach sensations decreased by May. I still felt it once in a while but it was pretty light – haven’t felt it at all now for several weeks.

On Tuesday, May 8, Mary and I were having lunch at the Lucky Wishbone. My favorite dish is the three-piece-all-white fried chicken (two large wishbones and a breast). Mary usually eats one of the wishbones but declined so I consumed all three.  I thought I chewed adequately and didn’t notice any back up, but a big drink of water went down real hard though, and it hurt. Then I started gurgling and turned very pale - scaring the holy heck out of Mary. Water was sitting on top of my chicken and nothing seemed to be going up or down. I spit some into a napkin - clear water and white chicken fragments.  Mary wanted to know whether she should call 911.  I said “no” and left her to pay the bill while I retreated to the parking lot to spit up more water and chicken.  She stopped twice on our way to meet a friend (to walk our dogs), and I spit up more chicken and water. I was alright by the time we got to the dog play area.

I got an appointment with my Primary Doctor, Timothy Miller at Providence Family Medicine Center, and he ordered a Barium Swallow. That revealed an irregular growth at the junction of my esophagus and stomach. That lead to a Upper Endoscopy on May 31 by Dr. Shannon who then ordered a CAT SCAN the following day, and then the call came.

My primary physician looked over the report and concluded I have a Stage One or Stage Two adenocarcinoma. That is an early stage of a type of cancer that starts in the inner lining of the stomach. He said the oncologist could pin-point the staging more exactly. I have an intake appointment with the Oncologist at Alaska Oncology & Hematology the June 25 and the first working appointment three days afterward. I’ll know more then. Meanwhile, Mary and I are going camping for a few days and hope for some sunny weather.
GO TO: Part 1, 2,  3, 4, 5, 6, 7,

My High School Graduation - June 6, 1958

I was ambivalent about getting out of high school. I liked the social part of it: attending ball games, the after-game dances (at which I never danced); and the teen canteen that opened for a couple hours after school and on weekends. I belonged to the Hi-Y, ran cross-country and high jumped during track season. The municipal swimming pool attracted me during summers. I swam nearly every night those last two years. Brian Cossell, the number-one high jumper on the track team (I was a distant second), and I were into diving, and chanced a number of fancy flips off the three meter board.

The canteen was my favorite during school session. The place occupied the second floor of a building on the corner of Buckeye and Walnut of the town square. The canteen opened its doors for a couple hours after school. I started going there in my junior year after Don left for college. It lay only two blocks from the Moose Lodge, where Mom and Dad worked, and closed about the time they headed home. The canteen, one big room on the second floor, had a free jukebox, a dance floor (on which I never danced); card tables, ping pong, and a couple of snooker tables. I was pretty good with a pool cue, and so was often sought after as a snooker partner.

I was indifferent about academics though. I took four years of math and science, and even had a semester of Latin before deciding, rightfully, that it was a waste of time. I enrolled because a high school counselor told me Latin was required to get into college. That might have been the case a century earlier, but colleges had moved on, but apparently failed to inform my counselor. The misinformation was an example of the crap we were often fed in the 1950’s. I have no memory of ever taking a book home to study, but still managed a grade point average placing me in the upper half of the class (barely). I didn’t get interested in learning until I’d been in college for a couple years. If the university had been anything like high school, I’d have probably dropped out, but something seemed to have sparked my interest about then.

I remember few specifics about my high school graduation in 1958. We held it in the gymnasium, a facility that filled eight thousand seats during basketball games. I don’t remember if it were at capacity that particular night, but four hundred and fifty of us graduating seniors sat on folding chairs on the main floor while proud parents, family and friends perched above to watch a tradition that probably hadn’t changed for generations. Six family members attended for me: Mom, Dad, brother Don, Grandma Frank, and my Uncle and Aunt, Joe and Gail Frank, who had come up from Connersville for the happy occasion.

Each row of graduates stood on cue and filed to the right forming a long line that snaked its way onto the makeshift stage. A dignitary clasped each graduate’s right hand as he thrust a diploma into the left, while uttering a perfunctory “congratulations“. The procession continued across the stage, off the far side, and back to the assigned beginning. I managed to hook a size twelve shoe on the leg of one of the folding chairs as I entered our row and was mortified to see the chair wobble along in front of me for a couple of noisy steps. The main speaker droned on for period, but none of his imparted wisdom lodged as it passed between my ears. And then it was over. We went home.

There were probably graduation parties, but I had not heard of any and received no invites. I wasn’t exactly a loner, but I was extremely shy. I went to most of the events but tended to hang in the background - the proverbial wallflower. I remember years later, at our twentieth high school reunion, several told me they thought I was probably the most changed of the class - they remembered my shyness, of how I could turn crimson so easily.

But I had my own party that night. I recall being so pumped that I went out for a walk after midnight. It was one of those magic evenings in June with clear starry skies and shirt sleeve weather. I felt invigorated with the thought that I‘d crossed a major threshold of life. I walked over much of the town, fearlessly through Crown Point Cemetery, around the town square, south along Washington Street, by closed stores, by factories, and by dark houses. I walked alone through the world till the light of a new day began to glimmer.