Kevin Kirby: My Father's Battle With Brain Cancer It was December 19, 1996 a day nothing short of the typical start to New England winter. With a Pre-Christmas blizzard, Mom was home from work because the roads were bad; Dad was out making the proceeds of the “White Gold.” Nothing was any different from any of the other storms before where Dad would return home intermittently during the day for lunch and dinner breaks, a quick power nap and head back out. It was during one of those breaks when all hell broke loose. My father Kevin, a very healthy, athletic man who was never sick or at least never admitted to, did not make it in from the truck when he arrived home. Mom was curious and assumed he snuck out with the guys for a cold one so curiously …show more content…
She began to question him, his speech was slurry, and she assumed he was drunk and told him to go sleep it off. The next morning she awoke to go to work, was Dad complaining he was sick, and did not feel well enough to plow so he stayed in bed. Later that morning I heard my father on the phone complaining to my mother about her being late coming home from work, saying it was dark, the weather was bad and she should’ve been home by now with the storm. This was not the case. It was 10 in the morning and my Dads “lights went out. “ This is when our lives seemed to move to warp speed. For about five months prior, Dad had been experiencing minor dizziness, disorientation, and occasional numbness of his face, tongue, and left fingertips. He ignored the majority of his symptoms never telling a soul thinking they were temporary results of 16 hour work days pouring concrete throughout New England, New York and Connecticut to beat Old Man Winter, an intense gym workout, training for the Boston Marathon, and playing hockey three nights a week, etc. Dad was thirty-two years old, and for all intents and purposes, thirty-two year-olds don't get sick. I mean an …show more content…
My mother was a Cancer Program Coordinator at that time and had worked for years in research; she had experience with studies, diagnosis, treatment, and outcomes. She could spit out stats with the best of them and his team of doctors knew that, she had been a study coordinator with them since college. The plans were to biopsy the mass and get a definitive histology and find out if they were dealing with a benign or malignant tumor. The biopsy was done and the diagnosis was a Grade 3-4 astrocytoma, aka Glioblastoma multiforme. We were told astrocytoma’s and oligodendroglia’s come in four grades, with Grade 1 being the most benign and Grade 4 being the most malignant. Glioma’s are tumors arising from glial cells and may occur in the spinal cord or the brain. Glioma’s are the most common type of brain tumor and can be either supratentorial or infratentorial. Glioblastoma multiforme (GBM) is the most common and most aggressive type of primary brain tumor. It was after all this information was absorbed through osmosis that Dad asked the question, one in a million years my Mom never thought she would hear anyone ask, much less her healthy, athletic, wise cracking husband: "How long do I have?" The doctors explained the next step was to remove as many tumor cells as possible with surgery. Dr. William Butler was the neurosurgeon of choice and well respected amongst his peers and colleagues on the field of
Glioblastoma Multiforme is the most aggressive and malignant form of brain cancer, with an average survival of less than 12 months.
Glioblastoma Multiforme (GBM) is known as the most aggressive form of malignant brain tumor in adults [1,2,4,5]. Patients who are diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme have an extremely poor rate of survival. Glioblastoma multiforme has been found to be sporadic and doesn’t have any linkage or genetic pre-dispositions. The prognostic of GBM is poor and there has been little improvement of the patients overall survival rates for the past three decades [5]. Although patients undergo surgical resection along with chemotherapy and high-dose radiotherapy the survival rate after diagnosis is still low at the survival time of 14-15.5months [1,2,4,5]. There has been hope that immunotherapy may contribute as a beneficial treatment to this malignant brain tumor [1]. Treatments that would be effective in GBM patients are desperately needed. Three studies were reviewed to get a better understanding of what treatments or combination of treatments would be more beneficial to GBM patients.
Father, computer server engineer, alcoholic, and felon. My dad, Jason Wayne DeHate, has influenced my life, not only genetically, but he has also improved my character and creativity throughout the years. Beginning at age two, I was cultured with profanity spit from rappers such as Eminem. While my mother was at work we had multiple videotaped “jam sessions” and coloring time that allowed for the foundation of friendship we have today. The jam sessions consisting of me mumbling and stumbling in front of the television, as he was “raising the roof” from his lazyboy. Since then, he has taught me how to rollerblade, change wiper blades, and play my favorite sport, tennis. Along with influencing my leisure activities and the music I enjoy, his prominent personality allows me to grow as a person. Being the only male figure in my immediate family, I
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
When I think about the moments leading up to my diagnosis I remember feeling weak, confused, shaky and sleepy. I did not notice that I had began sleeping throughout the day. My body was craving soft drinks like soda and juice but not food. Days would go by and I eventually fell into a deep slumber that I found myself only waking up from to use the bathroom. I knew something was wrong and that if I did not get to a hospital it would get worse. Nothing could have prepared me for the life changing diagnosis I would receive.
To explain, glioblastomas, or GBM for short, are tumors that come from astrocytes or the cells that make the supportive tissue of the brain. These tumors are common on the brain and the spinal cord, and are very cancerous. The exact cause for glioblastomas are not known, but only three percent of childhood tumors end up diagnosed as glioblastomas (American Brain Tumor Association). Sadly, Howard Inlet’s daughter was a part of that three percent.
Cancer is a deadly disease that millions of people die from a year. Many loved ones are killed with little to no warning affecting families across our world. My family happened to be one that was affected by this atrocious disease. This event changed the way my family members and I viewed cancer.
Imagine having to wake up each day wondering if that day will be the last time you see or speak to your father. Individuals should really find a way to recognize that nothing in life is guaranteed and that they should live every day like it could be there last. This is the story of my father’s battle with cancer and the toll it took on himself and everyone close to him. My father was very young when he was first diagnosed with cancer. Lately, his current health situation is much different than what it was just a few months ago. Nobody was ready for what was about to happen to my dad, and I was not ready to take on so many new responsibilities at such an adolescent age. I quickly learned to look at life much differently than I had. Your roles change when you have a parent who is sick. You suddenly become the caregiver to them, not the other way around.
Throughout my life, many of my family members have struggled with their health. My uncle had colon cancer and both of my grandmothers had breast cancer. Experiencing cancer's effects firsthand instilled a sense fulfillment with helping those who can not help themselves. Through my church, we would volunteer by doing various service projects: feeding the homeless, building and painting houses for those who have undergone rough circumstances, and spending time with people going through drug rehabilitation. Every single time I would come home and be ashamed of myself because I could have done more. I could have stayed up later and packed more lunches or I could have put aside more time to build more houses. My drive to help people progressively
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
Its 7:30pm. It’s a Wednesday evening. A little 4 year old boy Chad and his mother Kelsey are at home. “It’s time for a bath” Kelsey calls. Chad walks down the hallway and into the bathroom. She already had the water filled up. As he steps into the bubbly water, a bump on chads stomach catches her eye. At the time she wasn’t thinking it was anything that could harm her son so she let it rest for a few days. She started realizing chad was having shortness of breath, he was losing weight, his lymph nodes were swelling, he would sweat badly during night time night, started seeing purple spots, and he would bruise really easy. She watched it on and off and it hasn’t changed. Its Monday now and she’s worried. She went ahead and took him to the doctor.
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
Childhood is the time that children are suppose to be carefree and enjoy themselves before embarking on the path of responsibility and adulthood. This wasn't the case for me. It all began one day in early August when my sister and I sat with my parents in the hospital room, talking to my Dad about things we wanted to do when he was discharged. A doctor walked in with an unsettling air surrounding him. We all sat looking at him but before we could ask who he was, he said, “So let's discuss your cancer treatment options.” Cancer. That day was the first that word had even entered the picture. Everyone's face paled, but I didn't even get a moment to process the information before I was being forced out of the room, dragging my sister behind me to the waiting area. While we sat in there, she cried and sobbed about the fatal disease that would wreak havoc through our lives, but I pushed it all away. I focused on her. I was oblivious to the cloud of death forming in the horizon.
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...
It was around 2:00pm and it was time to open presents. I started with opening friend’s presents then I opened families. I was finally done opening all my presents. I looked around at all the people, who were looking at me and my dad was nowhere to be. That was the only present that I was looking forward too. The party ended and my dad didn’t show up, my little four years old hopes were in the ground, it was like I could feel my heart ripping appart. I looked at my mom and she mouthed I’m sorry, my faced turned rosy red and my eyes filled with tears. From that moment on my life was never the same. It was a dark cloudy day and I was going to see my dad. We were playing the game Sorry and he was winning. I was the yellow player and he was the green player, he was laughing and smiling the whole time. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my Friday afternoon any other way. When the game was over he asked me to clean up the game while he went out to smoke a cig. When he entered the room and the game wasn’t picked up, he went crazy. His eyes seemed to turn a dark almost black color. It was like he was a completely different person when he came back