The “C” word is very scary.
It is difficult to accept or even say out loud when it applies to you.
I didn’t want to talk about it.
Former Notre Dame football coach Lou Holtz offered this pithy advice: “Never tell your problems to anyone… 20% don’t care and the other 80% are glad you have them.”
In November 2019, a “punch biopsy” from my forehead revealed a “malignant spindle cell sarcoma.”
Spindle cell sarcoma, also known as malignant fibrous histiocytoma, is an “extremely rare and aggressive form” of cancer. Diagnosis is difficult because, “the tumor may be relatively advanced before symptoms are reported or confirmed.” There are only 500 such sarcomas of the head and neck diagnosed each year.
Prognosis after early detection is “positive.” However, if the tumor is stage 2 or 3, the cancer has likely spread to other locations and “prognosis is grim….” and grim ain’t good.
My tumor was excised the same day the cancer was discovered. I expressed surprise about the size of the chunk removed from my head. My surgeon, Dr. David Mullin, quipped, “This isn’t Dermatology.” Eleven staples were required to close the 2-inch opening.
I was instructed to allow the incision to remain exposed for three weeks. I didn’t wear a cap during that time and my wife quickly grew tired of strangers asking if she hit me over then head with a frying pan.
Know-it-all cancer experts were not shy about offering their unsolicited advice for skin cancer treatment plans. I didn’t feel any need to explain malignant fibrous histiocytoma to these bores.
A subsequent CT scan revealed the cancer had not spread to my neck, chest or lymphatic system. The best e-mail came a few days later from Dr. Mullin: “No concerning findings on your PET scan which is awesome news!”
Prior to a PET scan, a radioactive glucose solution is injected into the blood stream. Tumors consume up to thirty times more sugar than normal tissue which make tumors clearly visible. Images obtained in the scans “help pinpoint abnormal metabolic activity.” The PET scan is used to detect cancer and to determine if it has spread.
It appears my cancer was caught early.
A second surgery was performed in December 2019 to widen “the resection margins.” Margins are surrounding healthy tissue that are removed as a precaution to ensure all cancer is gone.
A skin graft from my neck was discussed, but my old forehead proved to be “elastic.” Thirteen staples closed the 2-1/2”x1” football shaped incision. Once again, I looked like Frankenstein.
From this experience, I learned that face lifts aren’t fun. Our skin doesn’t like to be stretched to its limit.
I had never heard of the Southern California Tumor Board. You learn about these things when you have a rare cancer. My case was referred to the UCSD Moores Cancer Center (MCC) which is “the only National Cancer Institute-designated Comprehensive Cancer Center in the region.”
The first visit to MCC was to have a thermoplastic mask molded to fit my head. The mask attaches to the treatment table and holds the head in position.
With construction of the trolley, congestion in the Golden Triangle can be problematic. A nurse confided that the traffic would probably be the worst part of the treatment.
My six-week radiation program began on January 21, 2020. I was assigned to Varian Halcyon, their newest and fastest linear accelerator. 72 patients a day receive radiation from this machine. It is a highly efficient and professional “assembly line” procedure.
After the first treatment, my wife was anxious to know how it felt. I was in and out in 10 minutes. The patient doesn’t “feel” anything during the entire program.
During the treatments, I saw many patients in the lobby who appeared to have much more serious cancer than I do. Tears came to my eyes when a father pushed his teenaged girl in a wheelchair. It is so painful to see kids with cancer.
After the third week, my forehead felt warm and showed signs of “burning.” Hair began to fall from my bald head. The effects of radiation had begun.
After four weeks, my forehead became flakey. Silverdene cream was prescribed. I thought it would provide relief, but it stings. It is used to destroy bacteria that can cause infection while serious burns are healing.
I distinctly remember Friday of the fifth week. I hadn’t felt that bad since the day early in radiation when I fell and fractured my rib in a parking lot which complicated the remainder of my treatment program.
My oncologist explained that radiation ensures that cancer doesn’t spread through the nervous system. My forehead is numb and cracked. Will the feeling ever come back?
Nausea became a factor. Vernor’s Ginger Ale helped settle my stomach, but in the process, I’ve turned into an old man.
The sixth week was a blur of misery and discomfort. Surprisingly, my forehead began to heal and feeling was already returning.
Knowing my final treatment was approaching boosted my spirits. Patients ring a bronze ship’s bell in the lobby after completion of treatment. I decided to do something a little different when ringing the bell.
I hollowed a baseball to attach to the rope that hangs from the clapper. Then “Baseball Santa” swung his Louisville Slugger bat cane at the ball and rang the bell.
30 innings of radiation were finally over!
I had been looking forward to the final treatment, but the doctor warned discomfort would continue for a few weeks until the radiation left my system.
He was right. Fatigue had knocked me out. One night, I slept over 12 hours. Some of the burn blisters were slow to heal and my eyes remained puffy.
Two weeks after the final treatment, I was feeling like myself again. The last burn blister on my right temple was almost healed. I looked forward to getting out and back into my routines.
I wrote about my cancer to help others understand what to expect if they undergo radiation treatment. Now this all seems trivial.
A new “C” word has appeared in our collective vocabulary: Coronavirus.
We are living in very, very scary times. My wife and I are under house arrest and hope fellow seniors are heeding the advice of medical experts.
I am thankful for Dr. Mullin at Kaiser Permanente, Dr. Parag Sanghvi and the great radiation team at UCSD Medical Center and my wonderful wife, Jeri, who takes good care of me all the time.
Dear Bill,
I recently rang the bell myself (8/10/23). Also, I want to thank you for the wonderful kindness that you extended to me back in the ’90s, when I was at the Children’s Museum (not a really happy place for me!). I treasure the John Richey signature you obtained for me on my Negro Leagues home plate! Take care, and my best wishes to you and yours…
Sincerely,
Rush Glick
Hi Rush,
What a nice surprise to hear from you. Sounds like you just completed radiation treatment.
Good memories of you and Kim Duclo going back to 1995.
Please send e-mail to wgswank@san.rr.com
Bill
Dear Bill, The following message is something that I THOUGHT I sent to you, but something may have failed in the process! It’s been a bit of time, but that has been fleeting amidst the pace of recent weeks! Here it is…just in case: I apologize for takingthis long to reply! My best time to do this is during slow times duringStudy hall, which I “teach,” and those “slow times” can beillusive! I had gotten pretty far on one yesterday when I accidentallyhit the wrong key and it disappeared! Also, my nights working at the ballpark have concluded for the year, soI have a little more time, and my pace can slow a little!
Thank you so much forthe kind words…
Also, thank you for thetidbits on W.P. Kinsella. Priceless and it’s always fun so see some ofthe human side of well-known people. Andhow wonderful that you could call him your friend! Yes, “Shoeless Joe” is one of those booksthat I re-read. We have gone to the Dyersvillesite twice since moving to Iowa. Thefirst was for the minor league game last year. Our local team, the Quad City River Bandits, as the “throwback:Davenport Blue Sox, were in that game, and my wife, Marie, and I were fortunateto get tickets. I think I mentioned thatthe game was just five days after my prostrate surgery, and that added an extradimension, as you might imagine! We alsowent up there recently with a friend of ours who was visiting from SanDiego. We were happy to see that herconception of our adopted state evolved considerably during her stay.
Marie and I adopted ourfirst daughter, Sarah, from Russia in 2004. The process took two trips and a LOT of work! Our second daughter, Rachel, came to us in2008. The process was a bit moredifficult as the rules were starting to change with Putin in power. This time we needed to make three trips. We had to go before a judge to see if wecould take Rachel home at the end of our second trip, and avoid a waitingperiod that was newly imposed. The judgeheard the argument and reasoning as to why we should be allowed to bring ourdaughter home right away. Basically, shesaid, “Nyet.” And left the bench and walked out of the room! SO…we decided that it would cost us more toremain in Russia to wait for a couple of weeks, so, we flew home, and returnedto finalize the adoption just those couple of weeks later! I told Marie that it was almost like“commuting” back and forth from halfway around the world!
However, as God wouldhave it, it was a good thing that we were home during those weeks, as we hadtime to be with family. Those momentswith family became so valuable, as, when we were in Moscow on the third andfinal trip, we received a call that Marie’s dad had had a stroke and was notexpected to live. We were suddenly thrust into the surreality of the happinessthat comes with an adoption and the stark wall of sad reality that comes with asudden crushing weight of a sudden tragedy. While Marie’s family gathered around my father-in-law as he was about toleave this world, Marie was on the phone, letting her father hear her love from11,000 miles away, and as I sobbed like a kid in our hotel room. For our first adoption, Marie’s dad had comeover to Russia with us, but, and, looking back, it was again as God would haveit, he was unable to go with us. Hislast words to us the evening before we left were, “Go and bring that girlhome.”
Today, Sarah is 20 yearsold and is preparing to leave for UC Davis to finish her undergraduate degree,and Rachel, 16 and a Junior at the high school where I work. This is actually the first time that I havetold this story in such detail to anyone! Once I got started, it sort of flowed…
Back to “The Field ofDreams” a little. I have a script thatwas put together for a proposed film adaptation for “Shoeless Joe.” In fact, I think that is the title thatappears on the cover of the script. Itmay be my imagination, but I think that that title is crossed out with “Fieldof Dreams” hand written below it. I willneed to take a look, as it has been a while. Anyway, that script was, as I understand, refused by the film studio towhich it had been submitted. And, Iguess we know “the rest of the story”!
Yes, that movie isprobably my favorite baseball film. Ihave to make sure that no one is looking at me when father and son “have acatch.” How I wish I could have a momentwith my dad to let him know how much more I realize now in my older age. My eyes even tear up now as I think of thatscene!
A neck-and-neck secondwould have go to “Pride of the Yankees.” I first saw this film as a kid in L.A in 1965 on Channel 2’s “LateShow.” The next day, I went to a Dodgergame with my Dad and a friend of his. Onthe way to the game, that friend of my Dad talked about that movie that he hadalso watched, stating the “Cried like a baby.” We all have those childhood memories, and, no mater the chronologicalage, there is always the kid alive inside us!
Many years later, therewas an older gentleman and his wife who lived across the street from my wifeand me. They knew of my romance of thegame, and mentioned that they had a baseball signed by Babe Ruth. They remembered my “WOW!,” and, a few yearslater, when her husband passed away, his wife gave me that ball. Beyond being one of baseball’s grails, thisball relates to “The Pride of the Yankees” as I noticed right away. It was actually a baseball signed by thestars of that film, including the Babe himself, and Gary Cooper, Bill Dickey,and a few others! The gentleman who ownedthe ball had some Hollywood connections, and somehow he got that ball! Come to remember, he also went to Hoover HighSchool, and probably had some contact with another decent ballplayer who wentthere. I have two Hoover yearbooks (fromthe same gentleman) with Ted Williams pictured in them.
Life is interesting,along with its “coincidences,” is it not?
Well, I cannot believe Ihave rambled for this long! I am SOhappy to note that you are doing well, and thankful you made that ER visit whenyou did!
Amidst all the insanity,and in spite of ghost runners on second, baseball is BASEBALL…that “CONSTANT”
Take care…thank you…
Sincerely,
Rush