TWENTY TWO

Ten or so years ago, I began to get physically ill. I guess the first hint of this came even a couple of years before that. I was home transcribing Dr. Fruchtenbaum’s teaching tapes when I suddenly felt so sick I thought I’d die that very night. I don’t remember what my symptoms were, but was so convinced of impending death I wrote a farewell letter to my family just in case. I was fine in the morning and even forgot about the incident until years later when I revisited my notes for a Bible study and found the letter.

My health problems began in earnest the summer of 2004. I’d had mild heart palpitations for years, but suddenly they’d start and forget to stop. I drove myself to the E.R. and parked across the street. Did I really want to throw out $500. and have them not find anything wrong? I waited until the palpitations stopped, about an hour, and went home. But I was back a few weeks later; now the fast beats were accompanied by chaotic beating. The doctor at the E.R. put me on blood pressure medicine and sent me to a heart specialist. Thousands of dollars worth of testing and contraption wearing later, nothing could be found to be wrong with my heart and the source of the erratic beating remained a mystery, however a drug was found that relieved the symptoms.

Within a few months I tried weaning myself off the drug, but the symptoms returned as bad or worse than originally. I resigned myself to the possibility that I might have to take this drug indefinitely, but a few months later I awoke with the feeling that I no longer needed it, and just quit taking it. This time the palpitations did not return, I thanked G-d for healing my heart, and turned my attention to another little problem, a small lump on the back of my right leg behind the knee. I imagined it was just a cyst, but it was getting slowly larger.

Meanwhile I felt that spiritually I’d reached an impasse. At church, a group of men prayed for me that G-d would show me His will in all these things. I prayed personally that G-d would have His way with me. Do whatever it takes, L-rd, I prayed, to make me more like your Son. Although I didn’t mention it to the brethren, I’d been unable or unwilling to defeat my lust addiction. I had not sinned physically, but according to Jesus’ definition in the Sermon on the Mount, even having lustful thoughts broke His rule. It was with much fear that I prayed that G-d would have His way in this. Was I headed for a purification by fire?

The MRI showed a well defined nerve tumor and I was sent to see an expert at a large urban hospital who told me that in his opinion, the tumor was malignant (99% +) and that after removal I would need to begin radiation and chemotherapy immediately. It turned out to be a rare benign schwannoma, however, and just days later albeit it on crutches, I was able to return to work. A nerve in my leg had been severed, but I was told that it was likely to grow back within a year. Only six months later my leg felt right as rain; I thanked G-d for healing it, but round three was about to begin.

This time, I woke up with half of my face sagging, rushed to the E.R. thinking I might be having a stroke and was diagnosed with Bell’s palsy. It was so strange to not be able to smile on half of my face, each day the condition growing worse. Joining an on-line community, I learned that this disease can last anywhere from three weeks to one’s entire life. After a few days, while resting in our recliner, I pondered all these diseases wondering if they were somehow connected, wondering how long this latest one would last and if I’d ever smile normally again. I 'felt' what could certainly be described as a 'still, small voice', that seemed to hover over the chair, saying “don’t worry”. It was not in the audible voice of demons I had heard years earlier, but as I said, more of a feeling. It only lasted a second; I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or G-d comforting me. If I’d learned anything from my demonic experiences it was to trust in the Word of G-d and not the experiential. Still, “don’t worry” is some of the best Biblical advice there is. As more than one well-wisher advised me, mine was a ‘win-win’ situation; I’d either be healed or go to Heaven.

After about a week, the symptoms stopped getting worse, my half-smile, half-frown achieving its worse position. But I began to feel dizzy, kind of like the stoned feeling from smoking marijuana. At first, it just lasted an hour or so, then it would begin around noon every day and last the rest of the day. The Bell’s palsy slowly began to improve, however, and was healed right about the three-week mark. Once again, I thanked G-d for healing yet a third disease, and in record time, believing it was truly His thoughts I heard, not to worry.

The dizziness continued, though, now being felt all the time. My balance began to be off, and occasionally one or another family member had to help me walk, although I never actually fell down. I joked that I had achieved a permanent 'high' without having to smoke pot, and several people said they were jealous. I really didn’t appreciate feeling that way; I remembered how sweet it felt to be 'straight' again, after having given up illegal drugs so long ago. I’d been putting off getting an MRI of my head although it had been strongly recommended while I had Bell’s palsy. But when I began having sharp pains in my head in addition to the dizziness, I reluctantly submitted to the procedure. Meanwhile, the pain began to grow more intense, causing me to curl up in a fetal position. The pain was centered in two places, at the back of my head and, interestingly, in that spot where I used to believe I felt that the 'guides' were contacting me, above my left ear.

An MRI of the left side of my head showed a buildup of mastoid fluid in my inner ear. The doctor, however, was more concerned about something else that showed vaguely on the other side of my head. An appointment was made for me, again with another specialist at that large urban hospital, and a second MRI revealed another schwannoma tumor inside my head. A certain type of marker on my body indicated to him that what I was dealing with was neurofibromatosis, a disease in which nerve tumors grow all over the body. He wanted to remove this tumor before it grew much larger, but it wouldn’t be a simple procedure like the one behind my knee. He said he would need to break my jaw to get to it, then reconstruct a metal jaw. He admitted that it would be a life-changing operation with much pain afterward. We decided to wait six months to see how much bigger it grew.

Six months later, although I could now feel the tumor inside my head, the MRI did not show that it had grown any larger. But a new challenge loomed; my blood test was now indicative of leukemia and I underwent a bone-marrow aspiration to determine the type of disease and the stage that it was in. Like drilling for oil, the technicians drilled multiple holes in my bone, perhaps a dozen, before finding one that yielded results. When the needle broke through to the marrow, it produced the most pain I had ever felt in my entire life, causing me to thrust my derriere into their faces and nearly busting the super long needle. Don’t do that again, they yelled! It was identified as early stage CLL leukemia; a person typically lived up to 25 years once diagnosed with this one, except in my case something abbreviated as 'zap 70' was found in abundance, knocking my chances down to the region of 5 to 8 years. Symptoms began to develop, such as mild night sweats and general lethargy. There was nothing medical science could do to help with this type of blood cancer, they said, other than chemo to help relieve symptoms once I got into later stages.

By this time, many people were praying for me regularly; in addition to my Messianic group, I was placed on a 'prayer chain' plus folks at the churches we shared Sundays with. I was anointed with oil at least once at each. I was convinced, and remain so, that G-d was certainly aware of my travails and that His will for my life would be done. I’d visited a healing room a couple of times where I was given scriptures that seemed to guarantee healing for those with enough faith, but I remained unconvinced that the Bible promises physical healing in all circumstances. Rather, I believe that the Bible offers spiritual healing and hope, if not for this world than the next. Certainly G-d still heals physically in many cases, often using medicine and surgery, and in a few instances miraculous healing. An article I recently noticed in a science magazine claimed that 1 in 60 people become spontaneously healed, careful not to credit G-d of course. Realistically, though, even those miracle folks will get sick and die eventually. I believe that G-d was teaching me to endure all my trials with patience, love and gratitude. Each of us surely needs to prepare for G-d’s Kingdom by storing up treasure that endures, loving G-d more than our own lives. Suffering is not fun; nevertheless I believe I’ve found joy in this process that will ultimately bring me to see His face. Anyway, what’s the alternative, complain some more? I’d already done my share of that.

And so I resolved to continue living life as best I could, adjusting to my ailments with as positive an attitude as I could muster. I thanked G-d that very little pain was involved, and that having 'incurable' illnesses meant that I didn’t need to suffer through radiation and chemotherapy. I made it my goal to learn how to endure with patience, and to thank the L-rd in all things. I was seeing an herbalist and taking fifty or more supplement pills a day, and hopefully this was helping relieve symptoms somewhat. I’d developed a hernia over the years that I’d been successfully ignoring, but when it began hurting and burning I figured it was about time to take care of this rather minor operation and I made an appointment.

As my luck would have it, however, when I was cut open a quart of yellow liquid gushed from the wound, indicating a much more serious disease. I didn’t think I’d ever drank enough alcohol to produce cirrhosis, but I prepared myself mentally for this probable eventuality. But the test results were even worse than that; peritoneal mesothelioma, asbestos cancer, was the diagnosis. Doing a little internet research I found that I was likely to only survive four to eight months! As it happens, a doctor cousin of mine had a patient with this exact disease who underwent a radical form of surgery and is still alive more than four years later. I spoke with his patient on the phone and her advice was to run and see her doctors in New York City.

A friend of mine had colon cancer a few years ago and went into a coma shortly after being admitted to the hospital. When he awoke in a hospital bed six months later, although it seemed to him as only a day had passed, he found that his wife had long ago divorced him and taken all of their material goods. A lot can happen in six months, especially in New York. Six months, as it turned out, was how long the doctors wanted me to stay there for treatment.

I hadn’t flown cross-country since the 1990’s, when my old group The Whitetones had a gig in New York City. A young fan of ours, an up and coming track star in Eugene had once declared that he would hire us for his wedding someday, and lo and behold that’s what happened, only he’d moved to New York. He paid for all our tickets and hotel rooms; unfortunately two of us had colds, and by the time we played the event I had just about no voice at all. Still, we did the best we could and had a great time during our weekend in the city. I couldn’t get over how much things had changed since I lived there. People were super friendly and it didn’t seem dangerous at all. I think my favorite part of the experience was the plane ride, though. I had a window seat and the skies were completely clear with great visibility the whole trip on the way home. I was amazed to look down at America below, especially on the brown, muddy looking rivers. There were no beautiful blue bodies of water until we reached Colorado; then the brown parts of Nevada and California, and finally more blue and green as we approached home. I felt so blessed to be living in Oregon!

The present ride to New York was mainly cloudy, but would have still been a smooth and enjoyable journey had we not made the mistake of listening to the cockpit on our headphones. It was a long trip due to the pilot having to circle several cities because there was so much air traffic. After circling one city for about 45 minutes, he asked if they would please let him continue as he only had just enough gas left to reach his final destination. That got us going again until the next hub, where the pilot asked to land in order to refuel. And so on until we were finally close to the city. About twenty minutes to landing, the airport reported that they were aware of the gas situation and were preparing the way for an emergency landing, to which the pilot replied that there was no emergency and plenty of fuel left. Meanwhile I’d spent several hours on the edge of my seat; I haven’t listened in to the cockpit while flying since.

It felt so weird to walk those old, dirty streets of Manhattan again. With my daughter at my side (Diana declined to go, saying that if she ever spent six hours on a plane again, it would need to land in Honolulu, not New York) we braved the highways and byways of this largest American city and had a great time. Although I lived there for the first 21 years of my life, I’d never before gone to a Broadway show. There were plenty of sights to behold on this trip, including a gospel choir singing in the middle of Times Square on a Sunday afternoon with thousands of people listening and even cheering as a preacher claimed that New York was being won for Christ. We drove around Borough Park, while listening to its pirate Hasidic radio station, watching the black-coated throng scurrying to make ready for the High Holy Days only hours away. I got more than a few stares there, a man without a head covering, walking around my old block showing Nastassia the sights. Of course we ate tons of great food in New York, still its greatest attraction there for me. The doctors informed me that without treatment I could live up to two years more, and with the operation a median survival of five years was possible. They told me the story of the first person who’d ever had the debulking surgery a few decades earlier. He’d lived for 17 years and then died of lung cancer because he wouldn’t stop smoking.

When we returned home, friends had organized a fund-raiser, promoting it in all the area’s newspapers. A variety of musicians donated their services; there was Klezmer, Jazz, Blues, Rock, and I even got to perform with three of the bands. I’d always thought that the church would chip in and support me when and if the time came. And they did; but the outpouring of love by the secular community surprised me. The cross-section of people attending the standing-room-only event included some from every walk of Ashland life; Jew and gentile, left and right, religious and agnostic, shickers and tea-totalers. What did all these people have in common? Considering all of my efforts to tell people about Hell over the years, via tracts, letters to the editor, editorials posted in my window, all things they mainly disagreed with me about, they still loved me. And how could G-d love me? Sure I’ve paid Him lip service over the years and even stuck up for Him in more than one argument about evolution. But my evil deeds far outweighed any good. They loved me because of scriptural truth; “G-d is love” and “G-d created man in His image”. G-d wants us to love each other, and when we do, He loves us through them. Yes, it’s all about love, but in so saying, it’s all about G-d. Still, I was a little uncomfortable with this worldly outpouring of love; weren’t they supposed to reject me or even hate me, as they rejected Messiah?

The "fat" me (before operation) at the "Lenny-Fest"

I waited for a call from New York, to find out if I was approved for the 'debulking' operation. This is a procedure where the top layer of the inside of the abdomen is completely removed. Then hot chemotherapy is applied directly through tubes over a period of months. Finally, a second operation is done to determine whether the subject is now cancer free. It’s successful about a third of the time. In another third of the cases, the patient is not cancer free, but can continue treatment to hold the disease at bay. The other third do poorly; a few die on the operating table. There was some question over whether I’d be approved due to the proximity of new schwannoma tumors found in my chest and on my spine during my 'pet scan'. Furthermore, the recent hernia operation was an issue as well. It was repaired using a type of screen or patch, but the cancer operation would be complicated as mesothelioma cells thrive in such patches.

At first I called New York a couple of times a week, then weekly, but the doctors never returned the calls. I suppose I’d been rejected, but no confirmation ever came. Meanwhile, I began to think that I didn’t really want the operation anyway, and to just be happy I’d probably live two years rather than risk it for a chance at five. At the same time, the results arrived from a lab in California that had tested my cancer cells and found they could be killed by a pill. This was under perfect lab conditions, however; they grew my cells in a Petri dish then subjected the cells to various chemo drugs. Some of the best results came from sorafenib, a chemo drug, but in pill form. There is no guarantee that the cells will die under the imperfect condition of swallowing pills, however. Plus, getting this drug prescribed was difficult as it was not officially approved for my type of cancer. After a period of many months, however, the pills finally arrived and I began a four-a-day regimen.