NOT ME
NOT NOW
A TRUE STORY
__________
Rocky Apostolec
NOT ME NOT NOW
Copyright © 2009 by Rocky Apostolec
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my lovely wife Debra, My sons Brian, Jason, and Kenneth who stood beside me in an extremely difficult time. It was their faith and support in my decision to explore a cure for my Cancer without the pain which is so often prevalent with this disease, that provided the courage I needed to make a life and death decision. The courage to stand by my convictions to defeat the most horrifying enemy I had ever faced. It was with their support and love that gave me the strength to believe in myself and a self-imposed cure, that I might be here today to share my story.
Synopsis
Everyone lives in a world where our thoughts are always of tomorrow, that is until you are told tomorrow may not exist. Your doctor has stamped an expiration date on your file, and for many of us it becomes our exodus. This book is a true story of the Author’s fight when diagnosed with a malignant cancer. He had no idea what course he might take, but he knew in good conscious he would not stand in line on the bridge to demise, and simply follow everyone else of the edge. He was not only fighting cancer, but the system as well. He refused to let what the doctors were taught in Medical School drain him of what life he had left, only to cast away an empty shell. Knowing there had to be another way; it was his courage, dedication, and the desire not to leave his family which drove his determination to find the answers the Doctors either couldn’t, or wouldn’t provide. These were the answers for which he so desperately searched. He knew the search was only half the solution, as it would take an understanding of these answers as well if he were to provide a cure without suffering. Racked with the mental anguish of realizing his refusal of traditional treatment was indeed a life and death decision, it was his determination to win the biggest battle of his life which made this book not only possible, but necessary.
Introduction
In the last few years we have begun to understand that what we eat affects our health and well being. We live in a fast paced world where breakfast isn’t what Mom used to make. If it comes through your car window, it’s not food.
We are told to eat our veggies and fruit if we want to stay healthy. No greater truth was ever spoken. I can attest to this, for I was a person who turned his back on all the wisdom in those statements, and ate whatever I felt like eating or drinking. This decision almost cost me my life. My Doctor diagnosed me with Squamous Carcinoma and stamped an expiration date on my medical file. Realizing the treatment they wanted to give me, and the side effects, I refused to let them throw me under the bus.
Through endless research, and many sleepless nights, I found a way to beat this malignant Cancer. I’m sure everyone remembers the old cliché, “You are what you eat”. I came to realize the only way to give myself any chance at all of beating this thing was to rebuild my immune system. I decided I would no longer live to eat, but rather, eat to live. In time, my immune system became strong enough to destroy the Carcinoma cell, and after over five years, I am a Cancer survivor.
This book is not intended, nor should it be construed as any form of implied Medical advice. All medical decisions should be left to each of us, to pursue as individuals the avenue we feel would best suit our needs. Regardless of your decision, it remains a fact; a strong immune system is a medical must.
CHAPTER 1
It was a cold October morning; much like any other winter morning when I awoke to the most annoying alarm clock money could buy. As I drug myself out of bed, the only thought on my mind was getting to the kitchen to get that first cup of coffee down in hopes of giving me the much needed energy to get to the shower. Once in the shower, I realized it wasn’t the shower I needed the energy for, but rather what came after the shower. Yes, it was that four letter word, “Work”.
While in the shower I began to realize I was getting a sore throat. Oh well, It was that time of year. I can’t remember a winter going by without me getting at least one sore throat. Thinking nothing of it, I decided the best thing to do at this time was not to have that second cup of coffee.
My wife could see I wasn’t feeling well and asked, “What’s wrong”? I told her I had a sore throat. She told me to gargle with some warm salt water. I said, “I don’t have time right now as I was off to work, but I planned on stopping by a drug store on the way and picking up some throat lozenges”. I stopped by the drug store, picked up the lozenges and after popping one in my mouth, I began to feel some relief.
When I arrived at work I realized the lozenge had apparently worked. I was feeling better about not having to gargle with salt water when I got home. I remember the years I had to gargle for a couple of days, and it wasn’t one of my favorite things to do.
As the day went on, the sore throat would return from time to time, but relief was just a throat lozenge away. At lunch time I was hungry, but I found it was hard to swallow my food. It seemed as though the pain was increasing. By this time I was about three quarters of the way through the throat lozenges I had purchased on my way to work. I figured I would suffer a little, as I would have to ration the remaining lozenges in an effort to get me through the day until I could get home and gargle with some warm salt water. Yes, gargle. This would be my end to a perfect day.
As I entered my front door my wife ask, “How are you feeling”? I told her my throat remained sore all day. It was at this time my wife went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of warm salt water. After displaying a look of disapproval, I realized she was right. After my salt water gargle, I was feeling some relief. I then realized when it came to the pain or the salt water, the salt water was the lesser of the two evils. Other than the depressing news on TV, the night remained pretty much uneventful.
After dinner my throat began to hurt again, so, it was back to the bathroom with my salt water. After the burn of the salt water gargle, I felt exhausted. This was a combination of work and not feeling well.
My wife had gone to the store and brought home some chloraseptic throat spray to help me make it through the night. I gave my throat a good spraying, and lay down to go to sleep.
My throat pain woke me approximately every couple of hours. After another dose of my throat spray I would again attempt to get some sleep for work the next day.
When I awoke in the morning, my throat felt as though it was on fire. I immediately went to the bathroom and used a flashlight to see if my problem was possibility Strep Throat. Although my throat was extremely red, I did notice my left tonsil appeared to be swollen. I gargled with warm salt water again, but decided to skip breakfast and coffee.
As I was getting ready to leave for work my wife said, “Why don’t you just call in sick today”? For me that was out of the question. I had probably called in sick four times in the last ten years, and besides, I would be off the next two days. If I wasn’t feeling any better, I would see my doctor.
I took my throat spray, and off to work I went. My throat hurt so bad I couldn’t eat lunch at work. I dined on a bottle of throat spray. That was the longest day I had ever spent at work. When it was time to leave, my car could not get me home fast enough.
When I walked in the door, my wife immediately noticed the pain in my face. She offered me a hot cup of tea, but I couldn’t swallow anything. I just wanted to go to bed in hopes this would all be over in the morning.
I managed to get some Night Quill down in an attempt to get a good night’s sleep, but that didn’t work, for I was awake every two hours using my throat spray. It seemed as though the throat spray was working less and less with each application. I knew I would need to see my doctor the next day.
When I woke up the next morning, I was on my way to see my doctor. Being a Veteran, I was being treated by the Veteran’s Association. Upon entering my doctor’s office, she could see I was in pain. She checked my throat and said, “That’s an angry tonsil”. She sent me to another room where a nurse administered a shot of what I believe to be Penicillin. I was given some oral medication as well and told to make an appointment to return in a week for a follow up.
I was three days into the next week and I hadn’t noticed any change. The only thing making the wait bearable was the pain medication my doctor gave me. With the pain medication and my throat spray, I managed to make it through another week of work.
With the week over, I returned to see my doctor. She looked at my throat and appeared a little perplexed. I believe it was her silence that raised my anxiety. For me, not knowing was more concerning than anything she could have said.
She said, “I’m sending you to see an ENT”. It was at this point I became concerned. She was a doctor who never guessed at a problem. If she had any concerns, she would always run test prior to any treatment. If she was sending me to an ENT, I felt as though she had an opinion, but she wanted a specialist involved prior to any expressing any concerns.
The VA doesn’t have any ENT’s in Las Vegas. They either had to send me to San Diego, or outsource to the private medical field in Las Vegas. They decided to outsource in Las Vegas.
By the time I saw the ENT, it was already November, and my throat wasn’t feeling any better. Right now my only concern was to rid myself of the pain.
CHAPTER 2
I didn’t have to wait for more than a few days to see the ENT. My wife went into the examination room with me. The nurse had me sit in the guest of honor chair, (examination chair) as my wife watched from a chair about four feet from mine.
The doctor made his appearance. He was somewhat young. When I say young, I would guess his age as early thirties. He was slim, and appeared to be fit as well. It was then he asked, “What seems to be the problem”? I just leaned back and opened my mouth. After somewhat of a thorough examination, he said, “That tonsil looks very ugly”. He said, “I checked your throat and everything appears normal”. “We’re going to have to remove it”. I asked, “So I need my tonsils removed”? He said, “No, just the infected one”. Now I began to doubt him. Who ever heard of just removing one tonsil? You don’t buy just one shoe. There are things in life that come as a set. If he was talking about removing one Kidney, that would be something I could understand, but, If removing one tonsil was the solution to relieving the pain, then so be it. He said, “Everything looks good, so we’ll schedule your surgery”.
My wife and I walked out to the reception desk, at which time we were given some material about the surgery to take home and look over.
On the way to the car neither my wife nor I said anything. I was thinking about all the horror stories I had heard about a tonsillectomy, but I liked the part about the Ice cream.
We got into the car and began driving home. About five minutes later I start laughing. My wife just looked at me as though I finally lost it. I said, “I should have gone to see a Veterinarian”. She asked, “Are you crazy”? I said, “Think about it, A Veterinarian would have been a better doctor”. She asked, “How do you figure”? I said, “Do you remember when the ENT asked me, “What seems to be the problem”? She said, “So”? I said, “When was the last time a Veterinarian had to ask their patient what their problem was”? It was good to see her smile again. I know she had been worried about me. I am 57 years old, and about to have a tonsillectomy. It wasn’t the surgery I was worried about, but rather the recovery. I’ve heard about the sore throats.
The day for surgery was set in December. When the day arrived, I was ready. The doctor had me in a gown in a waiting area with about a half a dozen other patients. He stopped by all suited up for surgery and introduced me to the anesthesiologist. He then said “Get ready for half of one of the worst sore throats you have ever had”. He said, “We’ll be ready for you shortly”. With that, they departed.
My wife and I joked around while I waited for someone to take me into surgery. When they finally came to get me, the nurse said, “You have to remove all your jewelry”. I told her, “You can have everything except my wedding ring”. She said, “We’re going to have your wife hold it for you until you are out of surgery”. I said, “I don’t think so”. “The ring goes in with me, or I go in with only nine fingers”. When they realized it wasn’t negotiable, they conceded, and my ring never left my finger. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my wife to hold it, as much as my concern was if something were to go wrong in surgery, I would want it to go with me if I were to leave this life. After me winning the first round, it was time to wheel me into surgery.
As I entered the operating room, the Doctor, Anesthesiologist, and nurse were waiting with all the appropriate bed side manners. The room was much smaller than any operating room I had ever been in, but after all, it was only a small tonsil they were removing. The anesthesiologist placed a mask over my nose and mouth. It was one of those masks you see them use on the TV series, “Mash”. He told me to take a couple of deep breathes. That was the last thing I remembered until I woke up in what they called the recovery room, which was one big room with curtains separating the patients.
After I was somewhat coherent, the ENT stopped by my bed to speak to my wife and me about the surgery. He said, “During the surgery I checked your throat thoroughly and found no other problems”. He then gave me some advice on what I should be doing at home to expedite the recovery. He gave me a prescription for pain medication and told me I would be leaving in about an hour. He said, “You’ll need to come back in a couple of weeks for a follow up visit”. My wife and I got into our car and she drove me home.
I really wasn’t feeling any pain yet, but I was sure it would be there when I least expected it, so we decided to stop at the pharmacy and fill the prescription the doctor gave me for pain.
The doctor was right; I woke up the next morning with the Mother of all sore throats. I reached for the pain medication on my night stand. I was in such a hurry to get the bottle open, I believe it took twice as long due to the fact I was fumbling with the bottle trying to get it open in hope of some relief. I finally got the medication in my mouth. I don’t know why I thought there would be some form of instant relief; after all, it did have to get into my blood stream.
I lay back down in bed waiting for the medication to take effect; after all, I didn’t have to go to work for a few days. My boss Wayne was kind enough to give me a few days off to recover, and I was going to take advantage of it.
After four days out of work, I was feeling as though I could return. I returned, but still on a diet of soup, jello, and Ice cream. Oh well, food was food, and if this was the worse I would fell, It would be a blessing.
The time had now come for my follow up with the ENT who removed my tonsil. My wife and I walked in and sat down in the reception room. It was about twenty minutes when a nurse called us into a room. She put a file on the doctor’s desk. My wife sat in one of the office chairs, and of course, I got the seat of honor in the examination chair.
It took about ten minutes for the doctor to walk into the room. When he walked into the room, he appeared to be walking in slow motion. He didn’t look me in the eyes, but instead, sat at his desk and stared at my file. Without looking at me, he then said, “I’ve never had to tell anyone this before.” “The Pathologist report came back on your extracted tonsil”. He paused for what I’m sure was only a second, but it seemed like a life time. He then said, “It’s Cancer.”
My wife looked at him and said, “I never expected to hear that”. I showed no emotion at all. I guess it was the way he entered the room. I had been involved in investigations in the past, and I knew when the Jury came back into the Court Room without looking at the defendant, it usually meant bad news, so maybe It was as though I felt something was wrong, besides, when a doctor enters a room, he will usually approach you immediately and say something like, “So, how are we feeling today”? “Let’s take a look at that throat and see how it’s coming along”. The only time he approached me was when he put his arm around me and said, “I’m sorry”. I just looked at him. I still had no feelings of emotion, and the one I should have had, was fear, But there wasn’t any feeling of fear either. Maybe deep inside I was trying to cover up what I was hearing.
The only feeling I had, was a moment of being alone. When he put his arm around me, it was as though he was seeing me for the last time. My questions weren’t out of fear or anxiety, but rather, a matter of fact. I asked, “How bad”? He said, “The worst”. He said, “With treatment, you have five years”.
I got up out of the chair and walked to the reception desk. He followed me out. I asked, “What is this cancer called”? He said, “When you see your primary, she will go over treatment options with you”. I asked again, “What is this cancer called”? He said, “Why”? I told him I wanted to go home and look it up on my computer. He said, “You’re not going to like what you see”. I said, “I’ve never run from a fight in my life, and I always liked looking my enemy right in the eye”. He said, “It’s called Squamous Carcinoma, It’s poorly differentiated through the margin”. I had no idea what he was talking about, or how serious it was.
My wife and I walked out to our car. I don’t even remember if I told the doctor good-bye. I do know I didn’t thank him. Not a word was said on the ride home. I have no idea what thoughts were running through my wife’s head, but as for me, all I kept hearing was the term the doctor used for the cancer. It seemed to reverberate as my wife drove us home. I couldn’t think of anything except that last moment in his office, yet still, there was no fear. It was as though it was just another day. Most people would have felt some kind of emotion, or even asked the one question that always comes to mind, “Why me God”, But even that never crossed my mind. Why blame God? He didn’t give it to me. It had to be something I did to myself, and if so, could I change it?
CHAPTER 3
My wife parked the car, and we both went into the house. I went straight to the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed. There was still no emotion, until my wife walked into the room. I knew although she appeared to remain calm, it was only to comfort me. I rose and gave her a hug. It was then, the reality of what I was just told by the doctor set in. At a time when most people would be trying to deal with their own mortality, my thoughts were of my family. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my wife behind; after all, I always looked out for her. Who would take care of her now? It was then I thought of my three sons. Although they were all grown and living on their own, I was always there when they needed me.
I wasn’t afraid of dying. Hell, dying was a part of living. You can’t die without living, and when you’re given life, we receive our contract of death. Most people wonder about death. The three questions that concern them are; When, How, and Why? It took my doctor a mere thirty seconds to answer all three questions. I guess some would look at this as fortuitous, for that was one less thing I had to think about. The thought of leaving all my love ones behind was more upsetting than death itself.
I sat on the bed for the longest time, just staring at the computer in the corner. What if the doctor was right? Maybe I didn’t want to see this cancer. After about an hour of thinking about all the things that never seemed to mean much until something happens in your life which forces you to ask all the questions you have probably asked a hundred times, but never took serious until now. As I relive the questions over and over again in my mind as I keep staring at the computer. I needed to know what hand life has dealt me, and more so, can I change it?
I finally realized, the answers I was looking for, might be in that corner of the room that still remains forbidden to me in my mind. I stood up and walked over to the computer. I went to my search engine and typed in the words, Squamous Carcinoma. The doctor was right. I could have gone for the rest of my life without ever wanting to see what was right in front of me at this moment.
It was an extremely ugly way to die. The Cancer is of the throat, and is caused by smoking and over indulging in alcohol, which I had been guilty of both. Carcinoma is a malignant cancer that travels through the body. I was right. I couldn’t blame God for this. I had to take all the blame myself, which meant, I had to fight it myself, but how?
The first thing I had to do was to realize what this cancer would do to me, and how long it would take. I took notes on all the information I could find about this disease, from symptoms to the point where the disease causes facial disfigurement, forcing a person to become a recluse, even from the ones they love, and finally to the grave. I now had to find out what treatments doctors would recommend, and more important, will they help? At this time I wanted to wait until I saw my primary doctor. I had an appointment in a couple of days. The expediting of my appointment with my primary was not received as a positive sign, as I would usually have to wait a minimum of thirty days to see her in the past.
Life had never been matter of fact for me. I always had options. I guess it was because I never accepted destiny. I always felt there was a better way, if you only took the time to look. This was the first time in my life, any option I chose, could be a life or death decision, but somehow I found some solitude from an old Bible lessons I remembered as a child, When he said, “Seek, and ye shall find”.
Well, the day has arrived for my visit with my primary doctor. I am still being treated by the VA. As my wife and I walked into my doctor’s office I felt as though the sympathy was overindulging. It was the same feeling you get when you walk into a Funeral Home. The employees of a Funeral Home always have this long sad face on. It’s as though they had known the dearly departed all their lives, and they too feel your pain.
My doctor had that same look on her face. That’s two doctors I have seen with the same demeanor. I felt as though I should have brought a shovel with me to dig a hole to fall into. It might have given more substance to their prognosis. My doctor said, “I’m sorry”. She then followed it up with, “We are going to have to treat this very aggressively”.
I asked my doctor what sort of treatment she was speaking of. She said, “Radiation Treatment”. I asked, “Will this cure me”? She said, “With treatment, you have about five years left”. I thought, well, that’s good news. I tried to eliminate the gloom, so I looked at my wife and said, “That will give me five more years to love you”. The room became silent. If anything were to break the silence, it would have been my wife’s smile, which projected a message of her love, which was apparent without her ever uttering a word.
My doctor said, “I’m making an appointment for you with an oncologist”. She said, “It will take about two weeks to get you in, but you must keep this appointment”. She said, “The sooner we start treatment, the sooner we get to the cancer”. Of course I didn’t understand how expediting the treatment was somehow going to give me a stay of execution.
I decided it was the time I needed to research my problem prior to seeing this Oncologist. I spent hours on end searching books and the internet in an effort to understand what I was up against.
It was about a week before my appointment. I decided to take a break, as it was a couple of days before Christmas, 2003. My sons were coming over to the house for Christmas, and I decided I needed to forget about this and have a great day with my family.
It was a happy occasion. Everyone was joking and laughing, and of course, having some of their Dad’s great Holiday food. My sons then ask me if I could step outside with them. They handed me a diary. I opened it, and on the inside cover they had all signed it with all their love. They then asked if I could make an entry every day in it, so should I leave this Earth prematurely, they would always have my thoughts with them. Through it all I have been very tough, but I remember the tears that streamed down my checks at that moment. I then told them the greatest gift of all would be that they all take care of their Mother should I have to leave. They all hugged me at the same time. Their gesture was a reassuring answer, and for that moment, I feared nothing.
As sad the occasion of knowing about this ugly disease I have, and the battle I have to wage, this will be a Christmas I will never forget. With the love and support of my family, I already felt like a winner.
Christmas was over and it was time for me to prepare to meet with the Oncologist.
My wife and I drove to his office, departed our car, and reluctantly walked into his office. When I say reluctantly, I guess it was just the uncertainty of what was to come. We checked in with the receptionist, and waited our turn. Then there was the haunting sound of them calling your name, and beckoning you to follow them to a room. My first thought was, why are these rooms always cold?
I guess it was my turn, because in walked the Oncologist. He was big in stature. When I say big, I mean in circumference. He spoke in somewhat of a manner of authority. He was right about everything he said, and if you don’t believe me, I’m sure he would take a minute to set you straight. He wanted to start treatment immediately. I asked if he had seen the Pathologist’s report. He said, “No, but he’s sure everything was as reported. I didn’t say too much. I guess it was because I hadn’t prepared myself enough for the visit.
I listened to him for another twenty minutes before realizing, the only thing in that room bigger than him was his ego. I said, “I don’t want to do anything today”. “I’ll make another appointment to see you again in a week”. He said, “You shouldn’t put this off too long”. “The sooner we get to it, the sooner we get rid of it”. I got up to leave and said, “I’ll make an appointment as I leave”. My wife and I left the office and headed for the car. My wife didn’t say anything. She went with me to my appointments, but she left all the decisions up to me. I guess I figured if I didn’t start any treatment until next week, I could pick up an extra week on the flip side; after all, they did give me five years after treatment started.
CHAPTER 4
I already knew what this cancer would do to me; I now have to find a way to deal with it.
I spent every waking hour looking for help. In my research I realized cancer loves sugar. Well, we’ll see how much it loves me taking it away. I gave up all sugar immediately. I also realized cancer hates Beta Carotene. I started drinking three glasses of fresh squeezed carrot juice a day.
I studied the effects of Radiation. There was some logic I was missing here. Radiation cures cancer, but radiation causes cancer. I didn’t understand why they would use something that could potentially harm me, and try to convince me it was in my best interest. I was sure the answer would come with more research.
When I studied the effects of Radiation, I found that radiation treatments to the neck area could destroy the Epiglottis. The Epiglottis is located in the neck, and its primary function was to keep food and liquid out of the Trachea when you swallow. By destroying this, I would choke on my food. Radiation will also destroy your ability to distinguish one food from another. Radiation could destroy the muscles in the neck, therefore making it hard to swallow. Radiation is a potential cause of cancer with secondary malignancies, generally many years after a course of radiation. It was documented in a study that 80% of all Oncologists would not take radiation if given a choice.
Well, that sounds exciting. What the hell kind of life is that. I now understand what people mean when they say, “There are worse things in life than dying”.
I now know what I don’t want them to do; I just don’t know what I should do. I know there has to be another way. I’m going to keep looking till I find it. I have a feeling it is right in front of me. I’m just not seeing it. I’ll either find it, or die trying, either way, I refuse to give up.
It was time for me to see the Oncologist again, only this time, I’m bringing plenty of ammunition with me. It would be his turn to answer some questions. My plan wasn’t to be obstinate, but if I have to pull teeth, it might take some Novocain to do it. There was no hesitation about entering his office this time. Today I will get straight answers, not medical terms.
As I walked into the room, I immediately took a seat on the examination table. My wife took a seat in a chair directly across from me. It was about five minutes later the Oncologist walked in. He said, “Good morning, how are you today”? He seemed to be in an extremely good mood. I was about to change all that if I got the wrong answers.
He examined my throat and said, “Everything appears normal”. Then he posed the question, “So how soon will we be starting your Radiation treatments”? My wife just looked at me. She knew what was coming. I think there was even a moment she felt sorry for him.
I asked, “Why do I need Radiation”? He said, “Because you have cancer”. Well, that’s when the proverbial crap hit the fan. I said, “Didn’t you just examine me”? He said, “Yes I did”. I said, “And didn’t you just say everything appeared normal”? He said, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have cancer”. I said, “And it doesn’t mean I do either”.
He then told me he had seen the Pathologist’s report and the slides, and that he concurs with the Pathologist’s findings. I said, “Then how can you determine after my check up that everything appeared normal”? He said, “Your cancer could be sitting under the skin”. I then asked, “Wouldn’t it be wise to take a biopsy prior to scheduling any treatment”. He said, “We might not take a biopsy from the exact spot the cancer was reported to be in, therefore giving us a false reading”.
It didn’t take much thought for my next question. I asked, “If you don’t know where the cancer is, then where are you going to administer the Radiation”? “After all, if the Pathologist found it on the tonsil, wouldn’t it stand to reason the cancer should be at the point of extraction”? He said, “Not always, that’s why we blanket the diseased area with Radiation”? Well now, that was provocative. I guess if I broke one of my fingers, we would put my whole hand in a cast, therefore assuring ourselves we got the right finger.
None of this was making sense, so I decided to push the envelope a little more. I said, “I can’t grasp the logic that Radiation cures cancer, yet Radiation causes cancer also”? He said, “Radiation doesn’t kill anyone” Well I thought, there he goes again. All he had to do was answer my question, but instead, he opens another door for me to walk through. I said, “Then you can guarantee me I will not get cancer in another part of my body while you are giving me Radiation for my neck”. He said, “I can’t guarantee that”. I said, “If you can’t guarantee that, then the possibility must exist, and if it does, then radiation can kill you”. He repeated the statement, “Radiation doesn’t kill anyone”. I said, “If Radiation doesn’t kill anyone, then why do your technicians wear those little Radiation badges and stand behind a lead lined wall when they administer my treatment”? “Why aren’t they out in the treatment room comforting their patient”?
His silence was obviously a sign he was getting extremely aggravated with me, so I figured I would give him one last shot before I left. I asked him “What happens after I finish the Radiation treatment”? He said “I will have you come into the office for a follow up exam to ascertain everything appears Normal”.
I reminded him that he gave me an exam when I arrived today, at which time everything appeared normal. I then asked, “How much more normal would I appear to be after my Radiation treatment”? I’m glad he didn’t have a gun. The only thing he could say was, “If you were my brother, I would drag you in here, sit on you, and make you take the treatments”. I glad I don’t attend any of his family functions.
I stood up and said, “We won’t be doing anything today”. My wife and I walked out. We didn’t stop at the desk to make another appointment.
When we got to the car, I just looked at my wife and smiled. My wife never said too much. She backed all my decisions. I guess they never taught him about guys like me when he was attending Medical School. It’s not that I’m a wise guy. I would want a doctor’s knowledge, training, and common sense to exceed my expectations. There are so many people that believe a doctor always has the last word. You not only have a right, but an obligation to your well being to question anything that doesn’t make sense. Remember, a Doctor’s Shingle says he is practicing medicine. I don’t claim to know more than a doctor, but when all else fails, common sense should prevail. I did my homework, and his answers either didn’t make sense to me, or they weren’t logical.
I knew Radiation was not my choice for a cure, which probably meant I was going against all the best medical advice a doctor could give me. There has to be another way. There is a cure that makes sense; I just have to find it. The decision I’m about to make, is truly one of life and death. I just hope it is one I can live with.
My wife and I arrived home after seeing the doctor. As I exited the car I glanced at her. I could see the concern in her eyes. I know she felt as though I had just burned a bridge. There was no doubt this cancer possessed the ability to kill me, but I could see it was killing her as well. I put my arm around her and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be alright”. “I’m not going anywhere”, yet I knew there might come a time when I may have to draw on her strength as well. I smiled, she smiled back, and we walked into the house.
CHAPTER 5
For the next couple of days I just sat around watching television. My mind was racing, and I felt as though I needed to relax if I was ever going to get myself in the mind set necessary to deal with the biggest fight in my life.
I felt depressed most of the time, and I knew I had to change. I either had to change, or the bastard was going to win. My problem was I didn’t know where to turn. I didn’t know anyone who had cancer, let alone the type of cancer I had. I felt alone. This is always something that happens to someone else. I felt as though I was sinking in a pond of quick sand, and no one could hear my cries for help. The more I tried to move, the deeper I sank. When you hear of someone committing suicide on television, you question how someone could do something like that, but I was beginning to understand how events could dictate actions you would never have thought of executing under normal circumstances, and that’s what scared me the most.
I tried to pull myself out of the this state of mind I was in, but I knew I needed more time to return to a normal mind set, but then again, would I have the ability to recognize what was, or wasn’t normal.
Some may ask, why I didn’t return to my computer to find the answers I was so desperately searching for. It was hard at first, remember, it was on that computer I saw my enemy, and I remembered the pictures of what my life held for me.
I was watching television when I saw an ad for Cancer Treatment Centers of America. They sounded like they knew what they were talking about, but then again, was this really the way they felt, or just another infomercial. I felt as though I had nothing to lose, so why not give them a call. If they were just another doctor with a hurry up and fix it now attitude, I would just hang up, as I would realize it was all dollars and cents. When they answered I said, “Hi, I’m dying, can you help me”?
They were extremely pleasant and attentive. I was speaking with a Counselor. This was the first time anyone in the medical field actually listened to every word I said. It’s as though they knew what I was going through, both physically, and mentally. The Counselor must have spoke to me for over half an hour. Not once did she try to sell their services to me, but rather, she explained what their program was about. She expressed concern for my mental anguish, and spoke to me in a way that I believed for once, there was someone in the medical field that really cares about me.
She told me to expect some literature in the mail, as well as she was signing me up for their newsletters. After concluding our conversation, I felt as though I was no longer carrying this burden myself. I felt there was someone out there I could turn to when times got bad. I now felt as though I had gained some control of my mental state, and I believed I was ready to return to my computer, for this time I wasn’t returning alone to face my enemy, as I had that Counselor with me.
I went into the bedroom and turned on the computer. I started by entering a search for cancer cures. It was pretty much the same old thing. You had a choice of Surgery, Chemo, or Radiation. I have already studied these options, which none of them exist as options in my world.
There were a lot of sites containing products that promise everything from a cure to eternal life. I would have to say, the one that provided the most promising research results was Shark Cartilage. Of course, as in all of them, there was a lot of hype and very little substance. They all claim years of positive research, but for some reason, I just didn’t feel as though this was what I was looking for. I knew that when I found what I was looking for, it would become obvious.
My primary doctor phoned me to inform me I had an appointment made for me at an Oncologist’s clinic in a couple of days. After getting this piece of good news, I decided to look into some other facts just in case I ran into another doctor that wants to sit on me.
Two days later I found myself in yet another Oncologist’s office, and as expected, this one took on an omnibus appearance. It reeked of redundancy.
As I was waiting to see the doctor I glanced around the room. The waiting room had half dozen patients. One Hispanic gentleman was speaking to one of the other patients. He was saying he only had three more treatments of Radiation, at which time the doctor told him they would be finished for now. I couldn’t help but look at the left side of his neck. It was apparent this is where he was getting his treatment, as his skin appeared to have been discolored. It appeared to be a burn mark which was approximately four inches by four inches. He complained about having a problem swallowing his food, and not being able to distinguish the different tastes as well.
There was an elderly woman sitting in a wheel chair against the wall. Her head was tilted slightly to the left. She was extremely frail, and had a hard time focusing on anything. It was either that, or she had so many drugs in her, she just didn’t care. I know I said she was elderly, but a second look made me wonder if she was elderly, or her treatments made her take on the appearance of someone twice her age. It was hard to tell.
As I looked around the room, everyone appeared to be in a state of disability. I began to feel pretty good about how I looked, but remember, I had refused all medical treatment to this point.
I couldn’t help but wonder why they were continuing to come back to a place which doesn’t seem to be improving their condition. As I listened to them I realized they were all looking forward to their daily treatment. I then put it together. They were all trying to achieve immortality, when they should have been trying to achieve a quality of life. I knew I could not pay the price they must be paying for what they feel as a promise of life.
The last Oncologist I saw told me I would have five years to live if I started treatment. I decided I was not going to let the doctors make me sick for four years, just to die in the fifth. I am going to have a quality of life for four years, and if I am to go in the fifth, then so be it. I know there is a better way, and as God is my witness, I plan on finding it, or as the doctors warn, die trying.
The nurse then called my name. I followed her back to a large room with what appeared to be a CT scan machine. She told me to lie down on the bed under what appeared to be some sort of x-ray machine. She said, “I’ll be right back, we need to fit you for a cast”. I thought what the hell are they going to put a cast on?
When she came back I asked about the cast. She said, “It was a cast to hold your head perfectly still while we administer the Radiation”. I told her I didn’t approve any Radiation treatment. She said, “Your Oncologist made an appointment for you to start treatment”. I said, “Who in the hell is he to make an appointment for a treatment I told him I wasn’t going to take”? She said, “Well, all I know is, you have an appointment, and I need to fit you with a cast”. I jumped up off the table and said, “I don’t think we’re going to do this today. And I’m not taking any treatment, so make a cast for yourself, and put it on his bill”. With that I walked out.
When I got to the car I was so mad I wanted to go to his office, sit on him, and turn on the Radiation and ask him how he liked it.
I drove home, went in the house, and took a cold shower just to calm down. I think the thing that pissed me off more than anything was how many other unsuspecting souls have been put in the same situation and felt as though they were forced to go along with the program, just because the doctor said so.
If you were a cow in a slaughter house, and you just saw the cow in front of you step up, put their head in a ring, and watch some guy give them a good whack, why would you walk up and put your head in the same ring?
Some may call me a non-conformist, but I refer to it as logic.
I went to bed that night, and when I got up I was still pissed at the doctor, but there was no time to think about that right now, for it was time to get ready for work.
It was getting tougher at work. I was a crap dealer. Gamblers are the rudest smokers in the world. They don’t care where they light up, and more so, they always manage to blow the smoke in your face. I know I said I had smoked, but I had quit ten years prior, so the smoke annoyed me. There isn’t much you can do. The player has a right to smoke, and all businesses need customers.
As I was trying to do everything I could to find a way to beat this cancer, I knew the second hand smoke would only make things worse. I either had to work in a smoke free department or get another job.
I had thirty seven years of casino experience, and I have worked in management in every department. I was working at a small club on the Boulder Highway. I didn’t know the G.M. that well, but he seemed to be a likeable guy, at least that is how all the employees described him. I thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained; besides, I’m trying to save my life.
His name was Pete. He had an average build, short hair, always wore a smile, but never wore a suit. It was strictly casual pants and a polo shirt. I caught him walking through the casino one day, and at the speed he walks, it wasn’t an easy task. I ask him if I could have a moment of his time. He obliged, and we went into one of the restaurants that were closed at that time. I said, “I have a problem”. “I have been diagnosed with throat cancer, and I need to know if there is a smoke free department I could transfer into”. I’m sure that my immediately supervisor Wayne, who I had known for over twenty years, had already informed Pete of my gaming qualifications, for it seemed as though Pete had an immediate answer. He said, “I think I might have something for you”. “I’ll get back to you in a couple of days”.
I found out from Wayne the next day I was going to Surveillance. Surveillance was not new to me as I not only had gaming experience, but I had worked in surveillance as well.
I didn’t know if Pete was putting me in surveillance due to my illness, the fact that it would be good for the company, or both. Either way, I didn’t care at the time. I was extremely concerned with my health, and getting away from the smoke would be a plus. Pete was hard to read at first, but he became easier as time went on. I appreciated what he had done for me, and regardless of how sick I felt at times, I always gave him a hundred percent. He knew I always had his best interest at heart. Over time, a loyalty and a great bond had developed, and still continue to this day. My only brother passed away in 1997. I guess in a way, I replaced him with Pete.
No matter how sick I was, Pete always managed to make me laugh. He’s a great one liner. Even when we get together today, we still argue points of interest, but we both know it’s all in fun. You can tell I have a great respect for him. I believe he help save my life when he moved me out of the smoke, as well as he kept me busy, which sometimes helped me forget about how sick I was. As for the true reason he moved me to surveillance, I guess it really doesn’t matter, as both reasons were accomplished.
CHAPTER 6
When I was running surveillance I had hired an old co-worker to work in the room with me. His name was Ray. He found out about my cancer and was telling me about a high concentrate mineral and vitamin product he thought would help me. My first thought was, yea, that’s just what I need, some snake oil someone bottled. There were already so many on the market you could turn on your television any given Sunday and see a dozen of them.
My friend was pretty adamant about how well it worked. He stated a friend of his had cancer and it had helped him. He said, “Hell, I’m healthy and I take it”. “It seems to give me more energy”
I listened as Ray spoke of this miracle cure. I asked, “What is it called”? He said, “Jurak”. He said, “It is only offered at one location in North America, and that happens to be Las Vegas”.
I thought for a moment on the name Jurak. I don’t remember seeing it on any infomercials. I never remembered getting any mailings on this product, nor did I ever see any ads in the Newspaper. If I were getting this information from a stranger, I would have totally disregarded it, but this was coming from a friend that was truly interested in helping me. I asked him how I might get my hands on this product. He said, “You have to be a member to buy it”. I said, “Great, I have to join a club in an effort to save my life”. He said, “No, I am a distributor, and I can get you what you want”. He said, “I get a commission, but I don’t want to make money from a friend in need”. He said, “You order it under my number, and when I get the commission check, I’ll give it back to you”. He said, “I don’t want your money, I know this will help you, and that’s what friends are for”.