The Doctor Who Saved My Life

Right there. That’s the difference. That’s the life and death move that spared me. And that technology wasn’t always here to know contemporaneously how well you’d cut.

Someone left a voicemail a few days ago. Voicemail. In 2019 friends don’t leave friends voicemail.

Transcript: Hi, Mr. Fox, my name is Tiffany. I’m calling from Dr. Shaw’s office. I wanted to remind you that you’re due for an annual appointment follow-up appointment. So, please call us back at 949-76x-xxxx. Thank you, bye-bye.

A pre-chemo blood draw to make sure I was strong enough to endure the poisonous drugs they were about to drip into my system

“Helaine,” I called out, “Do I have a Dr. Shaw?”

Anything’s possible. Cancer left me with an army of docs including some who stepped in-and-out for a single procedure. I returned the call.

We were right. No Dr. Shaw. I was really wanted by Dr. Selby, one of the surgeons who performed my Whipple operation. He wants to admire his handiwork which required me to leave the hospital with my belly held together by 16 staples.

This is an emotional moment for me. Lots of people worked hard and were integral in saving my life. It’s different with Dr. Selby and his partner Dr. Staffer. They cut out the thing that was going to kill me.

As they were closing me up a pathologist found they hadn’t gotten a clean margin, meaning a few cancer cells were left. They undid some stitches, went back in to cut some more.

Right there. That’s the difference. That’s the life and death move that spared me. And that technology wasn’t always here to quickly know how well you’d cut.

All my test are clean from a cancer that returns quickly. I likely will survive 10:1 odds against–just a 9% chance. That’s crazy. A lucky early find and skillful surgeons well equipped. No one is luckier than me.

I will hug Dr. Selby when I see him. Last time I whispered in his ear, “You saved my life.” I’m thinking no one tires hearing that… or saying it.

A Plug For Kevin

In the past I’ve written about my friend Kevin, diagnosed with pancreatic cancer this summer. What can I say? It’s a pretty devastating thing.

Kevin is amazing strong, both physically and mentally. He continues to undergo treatment (another round of chemo is in progress) and we continue to have hope. But, really, there’s no way to sugarcoat what’s going on in Kevin’s body.

His 16 year old daughter Marlene and sister-in-law Rachel will be running in the ING Marathon in Miami (Kevin works for ING) in January. They’re raising money for Pancreatic Cancer Research and are looking for sponsors.

Is it wrong for me to say I’d like you to help? Please click this link.

My Friend Kevin’s Blog

Earlier this summer, my friend Kevin was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. This is not a good thing. Pancreatic cancer moves swiftly.

Kevin knew his friends and family would be interested in reading about his treatment and how it affects his life. He set up CureKevin. He probably also realized writing a blog is a cathartic experience.

I wrote about the blog as Kevin was starting. There’s a lot more there now.

If you haven’t looked yet, you really owe it to yourself. Kevin’s life is much more real and his decisions and choices much more weighty than any reality show you’ll see on TV.

My Friend Kevin’s Battle

I have mentioned Kevin before. We’ve been friends for 15 years or so.

Kevin is the nicest person I know. Believe me, this takes nothing away from anyone else. He’s just that nice.

A few weeks ago Kevin called to tell me he was in the hospital. He’d recently undergone back surgery and didn’t sound too distressed. I popped by the next afternoon.

Kevin related the story of having some pain and nausea, seeing the doctor and being told to go to the hospital then – I’m mean then.

It was a blood clot in his pancreas. I’m smart enough to know blood clots can be disastrous. Precaution is good.

When I got back to work, I started researching blood clots in the pancreas. It’s not something I’d heard of before. Then I saw, it’s often a marker of pancreatic cancer.

But Kevin was in none of the ‘favored’ groups. He was a non-smoker, non-diabetic, caucasian with no family history. It made no difference.

The tests came back the next day. Kevin had pancreatic cancer and in a pretty advanced stage. It had begun to spread to nearby organs.

I know all that, because we’ve talked about it. But if you just spoke to Kevin, you’d have no idea. He’s up, positive, sunny. He’s his regular self.

Still, he knows what’s going on better than anyone else could. Pancreatic cancer is terrible. It’s fast and usually fatal.

He’s begun chemo, hopefully to extend his life. Who knows? Nothing’s certain. Dr. Mel Goldstein, who I work with at the TV station, pulled lots of strings to get Kevin hooked with the right people. If there’s a chance for help, he’s properly situated to get it.

It’s tough not to remember Dr. Mel was told he had incurable, fatal cancer ten years ago. He ‘should’ have been dead years ago. That’s why you can’t give up.

Kevin knows his family and friends want to know what’s going on. Some of them are sheepish about asking. That’s human nature. So, he’s started a blog.

Kevin has begun putting entries on CureKevin.com. The blog is still in its early stages, but he’ll catch on quickly and start foaming at the mouth, as I often do.

We’re throwing a party when he gets to the 1,000th entry.

My Friend Kevin Is Very Sick

I am writing this in early July. When I’m finished composing my thoughts, I will hit the save button, but instead of publishing, this will be a saved draft. If you’re reading this, something tragic has happened in Kevin’s life.

Kevin’s a ham radio buddy, though neither of us are active ham radio operators anymore. I met him around 15 years ago, probably over-the-air first. He and another friend, John, offered to come over and help me erect a wire antenna over my house.

I didn’t know Kevin or John at the time. They offered to slingshot this wire between trees because… well, because they did nice things for people. I grew to better understand that as time went by.

Kevin is in his late 40s. He has four daughters, one still at home and in school, and a granddaughter. He and his wife are the kindest, sweetest people you would ever know.

This isn’t BS. I’m telling the truth – they’re so nice, I can’t think of anyone else even in the ballpark.

Kevin and Melanie are the most religious of my friends. They are observant Mormons. Kevin is an elder at his church&#185. Their religious beliefs are reflected in how their daughters were brought up.

Kevin is my friend who can do everything. Whether it’s physical labor, electronics or computer related, Kevin always has the answer. He doesn’t look like a jock, and I’ve never heard him express any interest in sports (a continuing trend with my friends), but he kayaks and camps and is generally at home in the outdoors.

He would give you the shirt off his back. He would. End of story.

A few months ago Kevin had some back trouble. Who knows why these things happen. He had surgery. Back problems don’t go away all at once, as Kevin found. We really hadn’t discussed the surgery in a while and I assumed he was healing.

Last Thursday I spoke to Kevin, first on Instant Messenger and then on the phone. He was in the hospital.

His symptoms were back pain and nausea. When he went for medical treatment, he was told he needed to be in the hospital right then – they literally walked him over.

Doctors had discovered a blood clot in his pancreas. Blood clots are serious stuff, so he went to have it ‘fixed’.

After we got off the phone, I did what most people do in 2006, I went to the Internet to research his trouble.

Enter “pancreas blood clot” in Google and the first citation’s headline is: “ACS :: How Is Cancer of the Pancreas Diagnosed?”

It had never entered my mind. It had probably never entered Kevin’s either. He’s not even 50. He doesn’t smoke or drink. He’s easy going and non-stressful. He has lived the observant life and, religion aside, he’s still a wonderful person.

I went to visit Kevin on Thursday. He was in a pleasantly bright room with the door open and a curtain giving him a modicum of privacy. He had his laptop and cellphone at the ready. He was lying in bed, over the covers. There was a currently unused ‘port’ for intravenous fluid on his wrist.

If Kevin was sick, I couldn’t see it.

We talked about my Internet project. Kevin was my go-to guy when I ran into problems and he was designing the backend interface to the database.

I told him to forget it. But he said it would be a good way to pass the time.

We spoke again Friday. He was originally supposed to be leaving, but some tests had come back and he had pancreatic cancer. He said it like you might say you had peeling paint at home. He was relaxed… unphased.

From Wikipedia: Patients diagnosed with pancreatic cancer typically have a poor prognosis because the cancer usually causes no symptoms early on, leading to metastatic disease at time of diagnosis. Median survival from diagnosis is around 3 to 6 months; 5-year survival is 5%

Kevin came home Saturday evening.

&#185 – I apologize, because I don’t think it’s actually called a church and elder might be an inaccurate term. He is the lay person who runs the services.

Addendum – It is January 24, 2008. While installing new software I found this entry. I treaded lightly when I wrote this. Unfortunately, our worst fears were realized and Kevin died from the cancer on June 1, 2007.

He was everything I said he was and more. He really should still be alive. That would be the fair outcome.