It's odd how our bodies tell us that there is something wrong when we are sick. When we have a cold, our noses run and we cough as our immune system tries to battle the infection. If we pull a muscle or have a sprain, we swell up and have some discomfort so that we will rest the injured area in order to let it heal. For me, finding out I had brain cancer was a bit of an odd (and somewhat amusing) experience. After moving to California and beginning my career as a sound engineer, musician and voice-over artist I started getting frequent headaches. At the time, I just thought it was the stress of the 70-hour work week. Then as time passed, I began having some rather interesting 'episodes'. Do you know that feeling when somebody walks into the room you are in and you don't see or hear them come in? You just sort of know that they are there? Kind of a sixth sense, in a way. Well, I began having that sensation on what seemed to be a daily basis...only it wasn't just 'somebody' walking in the room, it was cartoon characters!!! True story. I would be at work or at the gym and I'd get this sensation that Daffy Duck or Beavis were in the room with me. Yes, totally bizarre. Anyhow, it wasn't like I was hallucinating or anything, just that impression that I was sharing space with animated characters. As time went by, I kind of kept this detail to myself in order to keep friends and coworkers from calling the paddy wagon on me. Then, in early 2002, I had a more serious episode where I lost consciousness during a pretty horrible headache (no Bugs Bunny this time) and I was admitted to the hospital. After some testing, doctors said I had some sort of undetectable virus and that I should wait it out. So, back to work. Over the next few months, my headaches got worse and my 'episodes' got more frequent and intense. Now, I was starting to get nauseous and would feel light-headed and a bit loopy every now and then. I'd be in the middle of a meeting or a hockey game and I'd feel like an elephant just barfed on me, and those cartoon characters would sort of just hang out in my background. I guess I started to maybe think that something was amiss (was I crazy?), but did I want to go in and get tested and hear the bad news? Not so much. Then, a lifelong friend and fellow band-mate (Mi5) of mine was kind enough to break both of my kneecaps during a weekend, pick-up hockey game (thanks Randy). After a couple of days of agony, I thought that a visit to the doctor was probably in order. You see, I've had this rule for most of my life where I would only go to the doctor if there was more than one ailment affecting with me. Randy and his awful hockey skills gave me reason to go in and get the knees checked out and maybe pose a couple of questions about the headaches and 'episodes' at the same time. Two birds, one stone. So, I went in to see my general practitioner who scheduled an MRI for the following Friday, "just to be safe". While I was in the MRI suite getting scanned, the technician helping me came in and asked me to come into her office and speak to my doctor, who was on the phone. As I sat down to speak with my wonderful caregiver, I noticed an image on the computer screen in front of me and thought to myself, "Wow, this guy is in bad shape". What I saw seemed to be pretty grim (even to the untrained eye). It showed a view of this guy's cranium where one side of the head and brain matter was all crowded in because of this giant white mass that pushed up against everything from the other side. Then, I pick up the phone and say 'hello'. Dr. Rock is on the line in a pretty agitated state. She was really concerned and as it starts to dawn on me, I see the name at the bottom of that scan in front of me...it's mine. Wow!!! Where's Garfield when you need him? That would've been the perfect time for some cartoon hijinx. Well, I was immediately put in touch with a handful of neurologists and surgeons who said it was probably a benign, water-based tumor. Phew! Thank Goodness. And two weeks later, they're firing up the melon-baller over at UCLA to haul out a 'baseball-sized' tumor from my right temporal lobe. It turns out, that what they had pulled out of my head was a mixed glioma anaplastic oligoastrocytoma, composed of grade III cancer tissue. When I found out, I didn't know what to think...I mean, it was hard enough to think in the first place because half of my brain was in a jar at some lab on the 12th floor (ha!) but hearing the C-word was a little disconcerting!! Not to mention the word 'malignant'...that's the sort of thing that'll put a damper on almost any event. Since then, life has been a little different!! It turns out, my visits with Foghorn Leghorn were actually some sort of focal seizure which were the result of pressure on whatever portion of my brain controls animation and Saturday Morning memories (Cartoona Oblongatta). Once surgery was over, I immediately started radiation treatment for the portion of the tumor that could not be removed. Prior to my surgery, doctors had tested my brain activity (during a functional MRI) in order to judge how much of the tumor could be safely removed. So much of the cancerous material was intertwined with healthy, active brain tissue that it was difficult to determine where to draw the line. As it was, the surgeon said that I could likely wake up in a disabled state and that loss of sight in my left eye, a loss of smell and the ability process musical melody (ouch!) were a likelihood. The testing I had received, however, also showed that my brain had compensated for the 'intrusion' to some degree. As most people process audio and sound on the right side of the brain, I had been doing it somewhere towards the back, left side...a little towards the top. Maybe that is the reason for my horrible taste in music and my ineptitude as a singer and bassist!!! Maybe it also explains my having 'forgotten' to do my chores (sorry Mom) and pay my bills (sorry Visa) so often over the past few years. Especially since the medical team thought that the tumor had probably been in place for seven to ten years. In any case, I finished a couple of months of radiation treatment and then began my course of chemotherapy. The thing I noticed through all of this though, was that I never got too far down, emotionally. The people in my life helped me keep a positive outlook and those who I have met in the course of my treatment have given me more inspiration than I could ever have imagined. I only hope that my story might do the same for someone else. A few months into my two-year chemotherapy regimen, my health care insurance plan was cancelled by my employer, who also went on to terminate my employment (retroactive to the day of my surgery) before I could even return to work. The boss had imposed a 'medical leave' after I tried to go back to the office 10-weeks after surgery. So, there I was, in the middle of the biggest struggle of my life, without a job or health insurance. Luckily, the wonderful people at The Screen Actors Guild were on the ball and alerted me to my active status as a voice-over artist and told me I was eligible for coverage for a few more months. In order to extend my coverage, I needed to work (either voice-over or acting) and that was when the wonderful people around me came to my rescue again. I was afforded an audition by the fine folks at 'Everybody Loves Raymond' (thanks Jason & George) and 'Married to the Kellys' (thanks Jason & Mike). After taping a voice-over and a short co-starring scene, respectively, I am eligible for health coverage through October of this year. It seems that another childhood friend and fellow band-mate swooped in and helped me retain my insurance policy so I could continue with MRI check-ups. It was just a little tough to pay my premiums but it was better than nothing. Sadly, a short time later, the funds for prescription coverage ran out and I was compelled to end my chemotherapy after 12 months. Here's where things get interesting though. In my first brain-scan after stopping my treatments, my doctor informed me that there may have been a subtle decrease in the size of the remaining tumor!!! In subsequent scans, there is some evidence of a slight decrease, at best, and definite stasis at worst...either way, it's good news!!! Since the beginning of the entire experience, I have learned so much about myself, my family, my friends and people as a whole. I have also learned about inspiration, hope, perseverance and courage...the ingredients we all need to get from day to day and the qualities we can all share to help others through a difficult time. In the more than two years since my diagnosis, I've made music, written stories, acted on TV, played hockey, basketball and tennis on a regular basis and seen new places...life is far from being boring and I refuse to let it be so. In that time, I have also made new friends and reconnected with old, all of whom have their own special place in my heart and all of which continue to inspire me in everyday events, whether it be a trip to the doctor, a Superbowl party (Go Pats!) or a midnight game of broomball. What I'd like to do to inspire others*, especially those with disabilities, is show that we can make our way through the tough times in life and come out the other side with a new perspective and an unending supply of hope. To do this, I will be running the 2005 LA Marathon. After years of being a relatively mediocre athlete, I really want to help show that people in difficult circumstances can indeed, go out and conquer any obstacle. I want this to be a way for people to see that life does not have to come to a grinding halt with bad news from the doctor, a pink slip from the boss or the end of a relationship. With hope, perseverance, courage and a little teamwork we can all make life what we want it to be. Keep your chin up! Survive To Thrive!!! (and watch out for cartoons!) *disclaimer - any inspiration for the 'not-so-slim', mostly unskilled, unattractive, slow-witted, unemployed people of the world is purely coincidental. Ha! |
Closer To The Cure
Alt. Healing >