Don Patterson
Maury CoatsOh, 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.”
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.”
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