Agnesian

It had been going on 9 or 10 months of having a sore throat before I actually did anything about it. I was a smoker and of course the worst had entered my thoughts. It got to the point to where I couldn’t swallow anymore so I went to the nurse at work.  I gave the time line, told my story and within a 20-minute visit the “C” word came up 3 times. I remember thinking, “What is wrong with you, using that word not knowing what the problem is yet?” As I’m sure she was thinking the same about my putting off this painful situation for 9 or 10 months before coming to see her.

She sent me down to the hospital here in town after work. I remember it like it was yesterday. I didn’t have a license at the time and I walked everywhere I went. It was a cold October day. All I could think about as I walked to the hospital was the nurse practitioner using the “C” word three times. I couldn’t wait to get to the hospital but at the same time I was scared to find out if the nurse at work was right.

After arriving at the hospital I went through the normal routine except this time I had those thoughts in my head. Then I was off to get a scan. Having some more small talk and then back to the room to wait.  A few more 3 or 4-minute conversations accompanied with the waiting periods in between and then the doctor comes back in after what seemed forever. (Just to make it clear, everything done at the hospital was done very well. I was never left there to hang and everyone was very nice and courteous, it just seemed like forever when you sit there with the thoughts I had. )

The doctor arrived and I immediately could see in his face he saw something bad. The look in his eye. I knew. Then he told me they found a one and a half-inch mass in my throat. He said it could be a benign cyst but having had pain for months he doubted it. He told me he was going to send me to a specialist the very next morning, not to eat anything after midnight and sent me on my way. I remember saying to myself, “Now give it to me straight Doc,” and sort of chuckling about it as the cold chill ran down my spine over and over again.

Still blustering cold and windy outside, I had the walk home to contend with thinking a million thoughts at a time it seemed, asking myself, “do I call and alarm people or do I wait? I’m the baby of the family; I knew how my sisters were going to react.

Now I had to wait for tests. I went to the specialist who sent me to another specialist. The one thing that stood out was the look in the doctor’s eyes. Through every examination, I could see the results in their eyes long before a word came from their mouths. I knew then, my awareness was rising to the occasion. I knew it was time to prepare to fight with all I had. If I was going to go out of this world, I was going to go out swinging and with dignity.

There wasn’t a lot of time to sit and dwell on what was happening. I kept stressing the point to myself that we are what we think. Over and over again I told myself to think positive thoughts. I kept reminding myself to fight this battle with my mind and to do it my way.

My doctor confirmed that I had stage 3 Larynx cancer. As I said before, every test I had taken, I knew the results from looking into the eyes of the doctor before they even said a word. My voice had changed during the past 10 months or so. I was getting pretty horse. The doctor said it was because the tumor was covering the entire left side of my vocal cord. That side of my vocal cord wasn’t moving. She thought that Radiation and Chemotherapy may get it and wanted to try that first. The alternative was to remove the voice box. I’m not afraid to tell you that I was scared.

I had dental work and issues that were not going to survive the radiation treatments. That made them decide to pull all my teeth but three. They left the three on the bottom to support the bottom plate for when I got dentures because they thought the radiation was going to weaken the jaw.

So they pulled the teeth, did the biopsy, and put in a feed tube so I would be able to get nutrition during treatment. They put a tube that went directly into my stomach.

In the short delay in the healing process from the extracting of my teeth, the placement of the feed tube in my stomach and the biopsy, I had time off of work and a little time for what was going to be taking place to set in. The plan was an aggressive radiation and chemotherapy treatment. I was scheduled for 35 radiation treatments, 5 days a week for 7 weeks and 3 chemotherapy treatments in 3-week intervals. They told me it was the most aggressive treatment a person was allowed to endure. I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect and that was my choice.

I went to the Central Wisconsin Cancer Program at Agnesian HealthCare in Fond du Lac. This place was wonderful. Everyone who was a part of this organization treated me and everyone else I saw as if they were their own family going through this. I’ll never forget the feeling of walking into the center for the first time. The first thing that I had noticed and was amazed by was the volume of people coming in and out those doors in just the few hours I was there. I was amazed with the volume of patients and the fact that everyone was treated and remembered by first names as well as made to feel they were among family. I can’t stress that enough. That was huge. It helped me a lot.

My radiologists and nurses (who were and still are, a wonderful team) did tell me what to expect as treatment started, to ready me for life as it might be afterwards.

The chemotherapy was a completely different process with a completely different group of wonderful people. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it must be like to have a job like theirs. To come to work every day knowing you are responsible for saving someone else’s life. How satisfying that must be. I had a new found respect for the medical profession. I always had respect but sitting on this side and living it sort of made it hit home for the first time. It was an overwhelming feeling of appreciation that made me want to hug and thank everyone who did anything for me because they did it with such compassion. I always found myself amazed with all of them every day I was there.

I had a radiation treatment following the chemo that day and that was the start of a 7 week challenge that took pretty much every ounce of optimism and courage I had in me. I tried to stay focused on staying positive and strong. I sat there with my sister Gene and people who were weeks into their treatments. Some who were obviously worse off than myself. That first treatment was a little scary because I didn’t know what radiation treatments did to you at first. I would see the condition and disposition of some of the others sitting there as I waited. I didn’t know if it was the radiation or chemo that gave the appearance or attitude accompanying them. I would try to read some of them.

They called my name from the waiting room and made me feel as comfortable as they could. They were such cool people. I followed into the treatment room and laid down on the table. I saw my mask sitting in the back of the room with several others I laid there, looking up at this big expensive looking scope type thing, knowing this must be the shooter. Then they took the mask and placed it over my face and snapped it tight to the table. I about freaked out. It was tight, I mean tight. I could not even open my eyes. I didn’t think I was a claustrophobic person but oh my God, I wanted nothing more than to rip this thing off my face that very moment. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

Inside I was screaming in sheer panic. I didn’t know how I was going to survive 35 treatments when 3 minutes into the first one, I was going out of my mind. I don’t mean that in an exaggerated sense. I was literally going out of my mind and scared to death what I was going to do in the next few seconds. I had every emotion you could possibly think of going off at once. I was never so full of anxiety in my entire life. I felt like I was going to bust out of my skin. I was worried how I was going to get through tomorrow though.

As the first week of treatment was coming to an end, the effects of Monday’s chemo treatment were starting to kick in. I had lost my taste and what I could taste, tasted like I was licking an iron bar. I was still able to eat by mouth but it had to be somewhat softer foods like applesauce, eggs and that type of food but with everything tasting like metal, I found I didn’t want to eat anything. I was drinking my protein through the feed tube more so to be sure I was getting what I needed to maintain my weight.

So the next day was Monday morning, it was the start of my second week. Gene and Tom came to take me to treatment. They had sort of weird look on their faces when they came up to my apartment. They told me I went from who I was, to a shriveled up, gray skinned old man in the matter of the weekend. Through the last part of the weekend I became emotional. I was crying for no reason. I couldn’t stop. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t stop. I didn’t understand what was going on. Every morning as I arrived at the treatment center I was met by one of the staff in casual conversation.

They would always say that they couldn’t believe how well I was doing. I remember several times, someone walking up to me as I walked the hallway to radiation and they’d put their arm around me and say how amazingly well I was doing with such an aggressive treatment. I always sort of cringe when they would say it because I play golf and when someone usually comments on how well of a game you’re playing, that’s the time you shank one into the woods. I was embarrassed about not having control of my emotions.

Treatments continued, chemo and radiation still sucked but I counted down the days and weeks, trying to remain as positive as possible. I would lie on that table every day as they snapped that mask on and after I said my prayer and asked for strength from Arch Angel Michael, I would say to myself, “Today is the day they come back in and say they don’t see anything to aim the radiation at anymore.”  One day I asked them if that ever happened to anyone. They said that it didn’t matter if it did or not. They were required to give the curative dose no matter what. Hey, it was a shot I figured.

They were sweethearts though and laughed it off. I can’t say enough about the group of people at the Cancer Center. You know, credentials are very important. A person wants to know they’re getting the best treatment possible but if it isn’t done with love and compassion, it can be a horrifying experience. My experience with these people made them my family for the rest of my life. I may not remember all their names but I will never forget their faces or the size of their hearts.

It’s true when they say that in the most difficult times in life, you find out who your true friends are. I always knew what I had for friends but seeing it in action overwhelmed me. The experience was life changing. As humbling as it was to have so many people doing so much for me, it was an experience that I thank God every day for allowing me to experience it. I look at this entire ordeal that way. If I didn’t have to go through the horrible experience of Cancer, maybe I never really would have known what I now know. It may sound crazy but I felt blessed to have gone through it, let alone survive it.

The first week into treatment, I had learned that my friends were putting together a benefit for me. They called it, “The Bill E. Ramage Benefit.”  When I first heard of the Benefit, I got emotional. Immediately. I flat-out cried, sitting at my monitor as I saw it on Facebook. It was quite the honor to see that my friends thought so much of me to help me out like this. Then as I sat there at my computer, I saw the friends list to the benefit grow right before my eyes. It grew and it grew, just as I sat there watching.

Every person that joined, I knew. With every friend that added themselves to that list, another tear ran down my face. I look for words to describe that feeling but there are none. The only thing I can tell you about it is that my heart swelled so big, that it leaked out my eyes.

They had planned the Benefit for the week after my treatment had ended so at this early stage of treatment, it seemed like it was years away from happening. Seven weeks of treatment, every single day made me feel like it was never going to end, having to endure the mask, chemo and the burning that I knew was going to eventually come from radiation.

As hard as it was to accept, I learned to quit worrying about the benefit and all the work everyone was doing on it. It was their way of getting through it with me and I really did appreciate it immensely.  All I could worry about now was doing what had to be done to rid my body of this tumor in my throat and get myself back on the job in good physical condition. I couldn’t wait for treatment to end so I could start working out again.

This was the start of the individual human experience. Learning of the Benefit was my introduction to the collective human experience. At this time, humans were starting to become Angels. The earth Angels were showing up in droves. In my years of searching for my spirituality, the more I had learned, the more teachers fell out of trees, so to speak. This is what was happening with the people in my life. Whether these friends of mine believe it or not, they were in fact Angels in their own right.

With the Benefit approaching that meant the end of my treatment was near. The last Chemo treatment was the week before it and Chemo always had a week delay before making me feel like a bag of smashed colons. As the date for the Benefit approached I got more and more excited. People were talking and Facebook was booming with comments about it.

The day of the Benefit was upon us. We spent the day visiting and then called cabs to go to the benefit. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to walk into. The banquet hall was at Charlie’s in north Fond du Lac. The owner donated it for the cause. Just another selfless act I’d had been blessed with. We arrived at the benefit and the parking lot was full. As you enter the building there is the bar portion and at the back is a double door that leads to the banquet hall. There were people all over the bar portion and walking into the hall part was overwhelming. It was full of people. People I knew. For the first time in my life so many people I knew and loved had gathered in one spot all at the same time.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was just sitting there at a table, my good long-lost friends, Kevin and Diane Johnston. Never in a million years did I expect to see them. Kevin raced Malamutes back in the day and gave me my first and only experience to feel the power of a sled being pulled by a team of dogs. It was something I never had forgotten and to see and talk with them was just another heart tugging moment.

It shows you what is really important in life and I was standing in a room chock full of what was important. Friends and family. It truly was humanity at it’s finest.
I stood there in the middle of this hall, looking at all the effort and all the love that oozed out of everyone. For the first time in my life I was speechless. To see and feel all this love and compassion in honor of me is an experience you just can’t explain unless you live it. Everyone was so impressed with the way this entire process was organized and presented that they thought it had been done professionally. When asked who did such a wonderful job, I just pointed over at my cousin Bill, his wife Dar and Nicci Keenan.

So you see, I never view anything that happens to me as being a victim. All these things that could be considered bad actually turned out some wonderful results. Even Cancer. Just look at what I experienced having to go through this battle with Cancer. So much good has come from something so horrible. These days when something happens, I don’t jump to conclusions and see the bad. I’ve been shown the good that comes from things. Now when something is bad, I instantly look for the good that can come from it. Having read my thoughts through this entire ordeal, I only hope it may help others do the same and in turn make their lives a little better.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Currently I am busy living life to the fullest, not sweating the small stuff, enjoying the simple things in life and only worrying about what is mine to worry about. Life is short. Life is good. Our minds are our most powerful tool. Please try to use it. Mine has come in very handy and I plan on honing its skills from here on out. Just remember that every storm that passes, the sun is still shining above it.

My sister (Nancy) and her husband (Erv) had sent me an airline ticket to come stay with them in Yuma, AZ. Nancy said she had a nagging thought to send for me so I could heal from treatment in the sun of Arizona. It was the Tuesday after the benefit, which made it the first couple days of February. The thought of a February away from the frigid winds of a Wisconsin winter was music to my ears.

When I returned home in March, the day I arrived I had an appointment with my radiologists. Then he preformed the scope and informed me that I was cancer free. It had worked. Three of us, the doctor, the nurse and myself, hugged. It was like I was standing there with family getting this news. We hugged and cheered a little and it then dawned on me that these guys and all the others involved, just saved my life. I have never felt a deeper gratitude before in my life. The thought that they make people feel like this every day gave me a feeling of respect for what these people do that there are no words to describe.

So I was back to eating and my radiologists saw no reason for me to keep the feed tube in. I was never so ready to rid myself of anything before in my life, like I was to rid myself of that feed tube. Don’t get me wrong, I thank God that I had it but I thanked God I was getting rid of it as well.  It did hurt like hell but it was a necessary evil. It healed after a few days and everything was fine. I had my dignity and I was cancer free. What more can a person ask for?

They have checked me every 3 months since. December 9th, 2011. I had another scope done. I saw the pictures of my throat. She was able to get the camera right down next to my vocal chords. It’s like nothing was ever wrong. No scars, no nothing. I am still 100% cancer free and have God and the knowledge of these people to thank for it. Christmas is my anniversary now. Last year at this time I wasn’t even sure if I was going to see another Christmas.

One year later, I am feeling better than I have ever felt in my entire life. A person can hardly forget those who have saved his life. I owe mine to a lot people, research and not forgetting to mention the Central Wisconsin Cancer Program in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. Sa-lute. I love you all as if you were my family.

Bill