The Road Ahead

I'm back, sort of.... I still need to figure out the balance thing in terms of what I can and cannot do which, of course, is nothing new for me. This week provided a vivid example of what I mean. In the morning, I interviewed Tom Carper, former mayor of Macomb and now Chairman of the Board for Amtrack, on Across the Miles. The focus was on the future of passenger rail in the United States--very informative. My next stop was the Macomb Rotary Club where I was asked to speak on "making a difference," a speech I have probably given a thousand times. Things began well and then life got in the way. As I was taking a bite of pork tenderloin, the young lady who was to introduce me inquired as to whether my bout with cancer would affect my speaking. I swallowed and turned to answer her question when the pork inconveniently got lodged in my throat. I put a napkin in front of my mouth, walked across the room to the men's bathroom, hit myself on the back, and dislodged the contents of my mouth in the sink. Not a pretty sight but my throat was clear.

I returned to the table and reassured Esther that this didn't happen too often and I would be fine. When I got up to speak, I found that for the first five minutes or so my voice was rather strained because of stress I had temporarily put on my throat. Things got better, and I successfully completed my remarks. This resulted in a learning experience. Of course, Dr. Diane had cautioned me earlier not to attempt to do both an hour interview and a speech in the same day, but naturally, I knew better. In my defense, had I not choked I would have been fine but that's not the way things worked out. Patience, Gord, patience.

As a person who has dealt with cancer, your view of the future changes. I continue to deal with salivary issues and my taste buds are very slow to recover but progress is being made. I NEED to remember that! But my perspective on things is a bit different these days. One of my tongue cancer pen pals reminded me recently that if you are cancer free with base of tongue cancer for 2 years the prognosis is very good. Jeepers--that shook me up a little as I just assumed I was "in the clear" and didn't think about a possible reoccurence. I guess that's my positive mental attitude.

Michael Douglas and I'm rather upset about this, has gotten much more publicity than me regarding our mutual base of tongue cancer condition. Ok, ok, I'm just kidding here. Douglas did an interview with Matt Lauer, and Michael said two things that really caught my attention. When Lauer asked him how cancer has changed his life, Douglas replied, "I'm now in the third act of my life." As someone who is turning 65 next month, I realize that cancer or no cancer, I too am in my third act. Matt mentioned that Michael will now have another descriptor added to his name: cancer survivor, to which Michael replied with a big smile, "From your lips to God's ears." I liked that very much.

During the course of the interview, Douglas mentioned that he was struck by the level of genuine affection family and friends had shown him during this difficult period. That comment really resonated with me as both Diane and I have been bolstered by the way we are treated. It seems like every time we are out, people come up to us and are sincerely happy to see us. Not that this hasn't always been the case, but it is different now as we know folks are responding to our "situation." It is just nice to know that people care, really care.

I Got the Girl

Diane & Gordy, August 31, 1968

It was nothing special, just another laker but that particular night would change my life FOREVER!! It was April 1, 1967 (Yes, April Fool’s Day) and four guys from Seal Hall had blind dates with four “girls” from Grote Hall at Lake Argyle State Park. I ended up with Diane Paulsen from Winthrop Harbor. She thought I was kind of funny, not particularly good-looking, but what the heck it was just a blind date. As I recall, and I recall it vividly, we drank a couple? of those little cans of malt liquor and I believe kissed a little. A couple of nights later it was a Dairy Queen date, then a movie, and pretty soon I was a goner.

We got married on August 31, 1968, and somewhere in the vows we both mumbled something about “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.” Little did we know what lied ahead. The Vietnam War was raging, but we took a chance and it was off to The University of Florida where I had a fellowship, and Diane got a job as a secretary. We left Illinois in a 1960 Chevrolet Impala that already had over 100,000 miles on it and $700 in our pocket. We returned to Macomb and Western Illinois University in 1970 and this has been our home ever since. Three terrific children, a fine son –in-law, wonderful daughter-in-law, two fun grandsons, and a couple of rewarding careers and by and large, it has been all positive.

Now let’s be honest here. There were some ups and downs. After all, I am a product of the 1950s and I believed that marriage was a 50-50 proposition: the 50 % Diane gave and the 50% I took. It took awhile but I ultimately grew up (sort of) and realized how lucky I was that fate had brought Harry and Ann Paulsen’s oldest daughter into my life. I won’t say raising the kids was a breeze but we figured it out and parenting came pretty easy to us.

Good health has been our good fortune throughout our marriage until that biopsy report on March 4, 2010. What a bombshell. Remember a couple of paragraphs ago where I mentioned “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health?” Diane learned first hand what that meant. Now I am the one who had cancer, and it has not been the best thing that ever happened to me BUT and it is a big but, for seven months, it was all about me. People sent me cards, emails, phoned me, brought over soup, and did whatever they could to help out. Heck, I’d be out for a walk and women would stop their cars in the middle of the street and run over and give me a hug. That was pretty neat. I didn’t experience that much pain as I was heavily medicated. It was difficult but I don’t remember a lot of it. Not so for Diane.

For the duration of my battle, she was the one who fed me through the feeding tube, ground up medications, fluffed up my pillows, got me water, drove me back and forth to Burlington, made all my doctor appointments, screened phone calls, answered the same questions a thousand different times, managed the upkeep of the house, supervised the kitchen remodeling project, and was there for my every need. No medications for Diane to ease her pain as she watched her husband atrophy and go from 180 to 153 pounds and there was nothing she could do about it. At times, I could see it in her eyes. Here was this guy who had literally never been sick and he was in a life and death struggle and her job was to do all she could to help me recover. Remember, she has our kids to think about and her 89-year-old Dad and 87-year-old Mom who also needed her in their lives.

Never once did Diane falter in her new duties as caretaker. Oh, she raised her voice a few times, took some long walks alone, got out for an occasional dinner with friends but she was always there for me in ways I will never comprehend. Relative normalcy has returned to our lives. I improve daily and the taste buds/ salivary glands battle continues but life is pretty good. I hope our lives are such that I never have to pay Diane back in kind, but let me assure you that if that day were to come, I will be ready to return the favor. We have always lived by the Golden Rule; it has served us well.

As I type this and I actually am typing this today, I get a bit teary-eyed when I think back to how lucky I was on April 1, 1967. I have been blessed. Family and friends have always been there for me and for that I am most grateful. Yet as I approach my 65th birthday next month, I realize that my greatest blessing is meeting and sharing my life with Diane Margaret Paulsen. She is off for a much-deserved visit to see the Stevensons in Corpus Christi. I love you, Diane. Safe travels.

Maury and Don--There for Me

Don Patterson

Maury Coats

Oh, I’m so delighted to see 2011 arrive. 2010 was, shall we say, just not my year. I’ve said my thank yous to everyone I know but if I’ve inadvertently omitted someone, I apologize. There are two people who played a unique role for me this past year, and I need to thank them publicly. Don Patterson and Maury Coats were my knights in shining armor. Seldom did either of them say anything to me that I wanted to hear but rather they told it like it was. After all, they had been there and each, in their own way, gave me sage advice.

Don Patterson had tonsillar cancer and when diagnosed, he was at Stage Four. Don was the head football coach at Western Illinois University for many years so we knew each other quite well. He spoke at our alumni events from time to time; we became friends. When word got out that I had base of tongue cancer, one of the first calls I got was from Don. He was brutally candid but what do you expect from a college football coach who makes a living motivating college men. Don was the first person to utter the words to me, “Gordy, I can tell you four things. The diagnosis is serious and scary. The treatment will be awful. The recovery will be painstakingly slow and difficult. And, my friend, and always remember this, the prognosis is usually excellent.”

Don and I spoke frequently over the next 8 months as he prepared me for what was to come: fatigue, nausea, loss of appetite, inability to swallow, living with a feeding tube, loss of weight, and a thousand other issues that I would face. He also told me I would get to know and appreciate Diane like I never had before. As he said, “Cancer tests a marriage, but you and I are both lucky, me with Lisa and you with Diane.”

One event in particular sticks out regarding Don and his role in my odyssey. I told him that PEG had been inserted in my stomach. The date was April 20, 2010. I did not know anything about how it would “work” and frankly I was a bit overwhelmed. That very afternoon there was a knock on the door. It was Don and Diane escorted him to my room which he entered carrying a stand used to hook up my feeding bag. He left the room for a couple of minutes and returned carrying several cases of the now infamous “product.” Next he showed me what to do and got me started. Naturally, he didn’t have to do any of this but he did. It was a moment I will never forget. There we were, a couple of old jocks, one on the mend and the other preparing to embark on an adventure with an uncertain ending. I didn’t realize it until months later, but Don’s act of kindness and compassion had a profound impact on me. He knew what I didn’t know about what lied ahead and he was there to guide me.

I need to include a quick note of clarification here. The folks at the Macomb Home Health Center were also terrific in setting me up and I do not want to minimize their efforts on my behalf.

Maury Coats is a different story. You know Maury. He’s the WIU grad, class of 1959 who received, but never read the Western News or my column therein, and had the audacity to look me in the eye in my family room and say, “Gordy Taylor, never heard of you until Eldon and Maureen Hare told me some guy they knew had the same kind of cancer I had.” You remember what happened next as I wrote about it earlier here. Diane Taylor had to be helped off the floor laughing uncontrollably with tears in her eyes as she looked at her dumbfounded husband.

My comments regarding Maury are not as lengthy as those on Don, but they are no less heartfelt or significant. My first contact with Maury was a phone call. He called “out of the blue” after hearing about me from the Hares and said, “I’m Maury Coats and I had base of tongue cancer and I’m here for you.” Bingo!! Maury had the precise type of cancer I had and was a three-year survivor. He was marvelous and though he was currently in Massachusetts we emailed and spoke on the phone. He sugarcoated NOTHING but had a way of putting me at ease. “Take the medication, don’t overdue it, this will be tough BUT you will survive.” Like Don, he related that I was fortunate to have a supportive wife and that his wife Sandi had been there every step of the way to support him.

On a visit to Macomb to see the Hares, Maury and Sandi took time from their schedules to make what I refer to as the infamous visit to 35 Indian Trail. There on our couch was a real base of tongue cancer survivor, and he looked robust and healthy. There was hope for me. Maury Coats had never met me but he has been the other bookend to complement Don Patterson and to both men I say, “Thanks guys for being there for me. Your support has been invaluable.”