Making something positive out of cancer

Around 13 years ago, my beautiful and talented wife, Charlotte, asked me to accompany her to a doctor’s appointment. Prior to that, the only time I had been to a medical appointment with her was to look at ultrasounds of my kids.

I knew something was up. Sure enough, that day we learned that my wife had breast cancer. Our lives have not been the same since.

My reaction to this news was, basically, to ignore it. Don’t misunderstand. I know what the diagnosis meant, but my mind couldn’t understand how someone so full of life could have this horrible disease. She was and is so integral to so many as a friend, daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, and wife that I simply had no way to accept that we could lose her. I still can’t.

Fortunately, she got diagnosed early. If I remember correctly, it was Stage 1, or at most Stage 2. A regimen of chemotherapy was prescribed. This is where powerful drugs are administered in the hope that they will kill the cancer cells, without killing you at the same time. If it sounds brutal, it’s because it is.

When you go to a cigar lounge, there are plush reclining chairs where you can sit in comfort while enjoying a nice smoke and maybe a beverage or two. The place where Charlotte went for her chemo had those same comfortable chairs.

The difference was, instead of sports on the TV and posters of movie stars on the walls, there were tall racks holding bags of chemicals being injected into somber-looking folks who were just hoping for another chance at life. The word that comes to mind when describing the infusion center is “sobering.”

Once the treatments started, my wife’s hair fell out. Still, she remained beautiful. Then my parents were going to visit. I asked her if she’d wear a wig while they visited.

She said, “I’m not going to wear a wig in my own house!”

Duh. I eventually catch on, but it often takes me a while.

She was supposed to have four of these treatments. However, after two-and-a-half, it was obvious the chemo was killing her. She developed neuropathy, which is a loss of feeling, in her feet. She still has that to this day.

That’s one reason she gave up riding conventional motorcycles. How can you balance a 500-pound motorcycle at a stop light if you lack feeling in your feet? The good news is she now has a Can-Am Spyder, with two wheels in the front and one in the back, so we can still go riding together.

At some point, the doctors pronounced her “cancer free.” For a while, when people asked me how she was doing, I’d say she was “cured.”

When I said that she, ahem, vociferously let me know that there is no such thing as being cured of cancer. This is because the big C can come back at any time in other parts of your body, like your bones, your pancreas, even your blood. So it’s something you just have to live with.

Now here’s where the story takes a turn for the better. At some point in her cancer journey, Charlotte realized there must be other women who A, had cancer like her and B, wanted to grow in their Christian faith, also like her.

So she formed a group called In His Presence. The basic thing these ladies do is get together weekly for Bible study. Then, when they find out someone has cancer, they prepare a card for the person.

I’ve never seen one of these cards, but I know they have some scripture, some cancer-support information, and multiple signatures. These signatures are like “Mary, five-year survivor,” “Janet, 10-year survivor,” etc. Simple, yet utterly brilliant.

Sometimes someone will call our landline, looking for Charlotte and I answer the phone. Several times it’s been someone who received one of these cards and wanted to thank her.

I’ve had women and even men on the phone, in tears, telling me how moved they were that somebody cared enough to think of them and mail them such a lovely card. I’ve been told that those cards never leave their purse or wallet. Really. That’s how great an impact it had on them.

Over the years, I’ve gotten to meet quite a few IHP ladies. Without doubt, these are some of the smartest, full-of-life, and enjoyable people I’ve ever met. Mind you, I’m meeting them when they have cancer, yet they are still so upbeat and positive. Incredible.

There was one lady, I forget her name, who was an artist living in Pennsylvania. Charlotte made it such that we would pick her up from her doctor’s appointment and then go out to lunch. Here is a lady full of cancer, yet strong enough to keep fighting and at the same time be as charming and beautiful as you could be under such circumstances. She passed away not long after. I’m glad I got to meet her.

There was another lady from Pennsylvania named Mary. She was a little sparkplug of a woman, so strong and full of energy, despite the cancer. This lady, three times a week, would drive from Pennsylvania to New York, then take a bus, then take a subway to Memorial Sloan Kettering cancer center in Manhattan, where she had all kinds of appointments.

That long journey would be arduous even for a healthy person. When she told me she no longer had the strength to take a jar of pickles out of the fridge for fear of dropping it, I felt like crying. She passed not long after.

There’s another lady, also from Pennsylvania, who has been with the group for a long, long time. She had us over for lunch one time. I asked her how much being in IHP has helped her on her cancer journey.

She replied, “It has made my life one-thousand percent better.”

Wow. Even Disneyland doesn’t get that kind of review.

Finally, I have to tell you about Maxine. She fought cancer for a long, long time. She was an elegant and beautiful woman, truly. I had the pleasure of hearing her deliver a sermon at church once. She was so full of love and faith it was contagious. She leaves a loving husband and family. I’m so glad I got to know her as well.

When I try to compliment Charlotte on founding IHP and her hard work in keeping it going, she always says “It’s not me; it’s God.” She simply will not take any credit. Currently I’m serving on the board of IHP. The other board members are just terrific. It’s great to be a part of this in some small way.

Over the years, men have tried to join, but the one big rule remains to keep it women only. At first, I didn’t understand why.

Then I got invited to lunch on a visit to Double H camp in Lake Luzerne for cancer patients that the legendary actor Paul Newman founded. During lunch, the ladies were talking about some really intimate female cancer problems.

That’s when I knew Charlotte was right in keeping it women only. Women deserve respect, privacy, and dignity in such delicate matters, period.

If you know of anyone with a cancer diagnosis, let me know their contact information. I’ll make sure IHP gets a card out to them. Prayers will be forthcoming also. IHP continues to make a difference for people with cancer. May they continue to have the strength and determination to keep it going.

One more thing: IHP is officially registered with the state of New York as a not-for-profit organization that can accept donations. If you are looking for a cause that can help fight the scourge of cancer while making a definite positive difference in people's lives, consider donating to IHP to help pay for cards, postage, etc.

They have mailed out hundreds if not thousands of cards at this point and cancer isn’t letting up any time soon, so anything helps. Thanks for your consideration.

Cancer sucks. Thank God In His Presence is there to help.