Standing Tall
A Father's Lessons Through His Daughter's CancerBy Tom Benford Andrea Benford TheisAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Tom Benford with Andrea Benford Theis
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4520-4395-1 Contents
Introduction...................................................................................5Chapter 1 It's Back............................................................................7Chapter 2 Rock My World........................................................................11Chapter 3 Dad, I Have Cancer!..................................................................15Chapter 4 Planes, Trains and Automobiles.......................................................20Chapter 5 Serendipity..........................................................................25Chapter 6 A Miracle Phone Call.................................................................31Chapter 7 Meet the Doctor......................................................................36Chapter 8 Chemotherapy.........................................................................46Chapter 9 A Light at the End of the Tunnel?....................................................65Chapter 10 Faith—Courage—Strength—Hope.......................................70Chapter 11 The Gathering.......................................................................79Chapter 12 Our Holiday Miracles................................................................90Chapter 13 The Perfect Cancer..................................................................108Chapter 14 A Life Well-lived...................................................................129Chapter 15 At Peace............................................................................138Chapter 16 Paying it Forward...................................................................142A Reflection—Meaningful Coincidences and How We Won by Standing Tall.....................149Finding Help...................................................................................155
Chapter One
February 27, 2006 – It's Back
I slowly closed the back door, listening for the gentle click of the handle as I left. The house was dark - too early for my wife, Sally, and our two daughters, Carly and Katie, to be up yet.
Walking to my truck, I felt the crisp morning air brush my face. It's much colder this morning, I thought. Unusually cold for a late February morning in Phoenix. As I started the engine, I looked at the outside temperature on the dashboard. Forty-one degrees. It felt much colder.
I backed out of the driveway and shifted into drive and as the engine started to accelerate, it seemed the truck knew the task at hand: Drive to Banner Good Samaritan Hospital—as we did every morning that Andrea was there–for "morning briefings," as they had come to be known. Instead of tuning into the morning news program to hear about what happened overnight in faraway places, we would huddle around a hospital bed and listen to the latest findings of Dr. Alan Gordon.
From the parking garage, it was a short walk to the hospital's main entrance, but just long enough for the warmth I had felt in the truck to evaporate. I exchanged hellos with the valet gent, Jim, who greeted me each morning.
"Pretty cold this morning," he said with a comforting smile. I nodded in quick agreement as the warm air of the hospital reception area greeted me. Past the information desk, the radiology department, past the gift shop and then the coffee shop, where I exchanged a quick wave of the hand to Todd, the coffee concierge. Around the next corner was the chapel, where my visits almost always started. But this morning was different—I was running late, which meant I was "MIA" upstairs. I skipped the chapel and headed straight for the elevators.
The elevator knows I'm in a hurry, I thought, as it inched its way up the elevator shaft, stopping on each floor while hospital workers and visitors got on and off in silence. Finally reaching the twelfth floor, the doors opened with the familiar ding and I crossed the threshold with out missing a step, then through the double doors marked "C", where the nurses and their assistants greeted me with their usual smiles. I saw Dr. Gordon just entering Andrea's room and I hurried to catch the door, following on his coattails. When I entered Andrea's room, I received a weak, "Hi, Dad." And with that, the morning briefing began.
I stood and listened to Dr. Gordon relate his findings of Andrea's latest exam. I began to shudder as I could feel the muscles in my shoulders and my neck tighten. My heart pounded as I tried to look calm and reassuring to Andrea. I stood on one side of her as her husband, Eric, stood on the other.
It was back. Not again, I thought. It was the lightning strike that I had been bracing for. How much more could Andrea withstand?
Andrea looked up, smiled weakly, and asked, "What do we do now?"
Only Andrea would calmly ask that of her medicine man. We waited for his answer. How would Dr. Gordon answer this young woman with whom he had bonded so closely? Did he have any magic left? He shook his head and started to leave the room, when Andrea, in a much firmer voice, said, "Hey, Doc, don't you give up on me."
Gordon smiled, "I won't. I need to make some calls. We'll talk after I check into some things." And with that, the door slowly clicked shut.
* * *
Andrea was not used to doors closing on her. The ability to open doors was one of her greatest strengths.
Just a few years earlier, Andrea had joined Glaxo Smith Kline (GSK) as a medical detail representative. It was her dream job and she loved calling on the doctors in her sales territory. She had established a warm and friendly relationship with her clients. A couple of years after she had started with GSK, she was promoted, and her territory changed. This meant calling on new docs. She was working with a new drug that GSK had developed, presenting it in her new territory.
At one point during that time, she had difficulty connecting with one of her doctors who had an extremely busy practice. After several failed attempts to get an appointment with him, Andrea was finally able to schedule a one-on-one meeting in his office. Andrea intended to discuss this new GSK medication that this particular doctor was not yet prescribing.
As the meeting started and they began talking, Andrea's eyes were drawn to an old wooden baseball bat standing conspicuously in the corner of his office, just an arm's length away.
"Did you play baseball?" Andrea asked.
After listening to him list his many accomplishments of a successful, yet interrupted, college career, she said, "Well I didn't play baseball, but I did play college softball at New Mexico State University."
His eyes quickly sized up her slight 5'2" frame, but Andrea headed him off, saying, "Believe me, there was some speed and power in this body when I played."
Then, to Andrea's delight, he asked, "How is it that the left-handed batters do that funny, running swing out of the batters' box?"
"It's called slapping. I was a slapper." Andrea blurted.
He reached for the bat, grabbing its handle, and pointed it at Andrea, saying, "Show me how it's done."
"Right here in the office?" Andrea asked.
"Sure, move those chairs there's plenty of room."
After rearranging the furniture, she gripped the bat handle and, as she stepped into an imaginary batters' box, she kicked off her heels and hiked her skirt up a little above her knees. Andrea took her stance, and with the vision of an opposing pitcher going through her wind-up, she started her steps under the scrutiny of the doctor's eye. As she shuffled her feet, the bat moved through an invisible zone, narrowly missing a clock on the doctor's desk. Andrea caught the doctor's eyes, smiled and said, "It's done something like that. I'm a little out of practice."
For the next half-hour, she continued perfecting the art of the slap. The doc was delighted, giving Andrea much more time to discuss her product than she had expected. Through this simple demonstration, a strong working relationship developed between doctor and rep–a team effort that was initiated years before, on a softball field somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. It was Andrea at her best, having fun and getting the job done. As Andrea's GSK supervisor Brian Harvey once said, "With Andrea, fun's not an option; it's a part of Andrea that we all love."
* * *
Now Andrea's situation was very different: A doctor-patient relationship with no slapping demonstrations—only a clock that ticked, ticked, ticked, ever too quickly.
Chapter Two
Rock My World
On May 3, 2005, I spent the day with my son-in-law, Eric, at Banner Thunderbird Hospital in Glendale, Arizona. I drifted from trivial conversation with Eric to memories of Eric becoming a member of our family's "circle of trust" three years earlier when he and Andrea married. I was so pleased with Andrea's choice for a husband.
Their first three years of marriage were filled with excitement and fun as they started their new life together. Eric was a pharmacist and had graduated from the University of Florida with a doctorate degree in pharmacology. After graduating, he decided to move to Arizona with no real reason in mind. Eric would later marry the first woman he dated in Arizona–Andrea.
Andrea grew up in Phoenix and was an outstanding student athlete in high school and college. She received All-American honors in softball while attending Glendale Community College and earned a full-ride athletic scholarship to New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, where she led the softball team in several categories and received All-Big West Honors. She graduated in four years with a bachelor's degree in communications, and after a very successful, but brief, advertising job, she found her dream job with GSK. Life was good, a new home, a close family, good friends and she and Eric were planning for children of their own.
In November 2004, Andrea called to tell me she had suffered a miscarriage. For the moment, sadness consumed us but, as usual, Andrea was quick to rebound, deciding that the miscarriage was God's way of correcting something that was not quite right. Her words made sense to me and we all moved on with our lives.
In March 2005, Andrea had another miscarriage and her gynecologist decided to run some tests to see what might be causing her to miscarry. After several tests revealed nothing of concern, her doctor, Judy Tom, ordered one more test. Andrea had her blood drawn for the test, but when the doctor's office called to give her the results, they told her that the lab had run the wrong test and that the test showed she was still pregnant —not possible! The doctor quickly ordered an ultrasound and there it was, a small growth on her left ovary, approximately 6 centimeters.
In the following days, additional tests were run: X-rays, more ultrasounds and a CA-125 blood test to check for cancer cells, which was negative. Andrea was assured that the growth would turn out to be nothing of concern, and with her age, excellent physical condition, a negative CA-125 test and no family history of cancer, a routine surgery to remove a benign growth was everyone's expectation.
In an e-mail that Andrea sent out just prior to her initial surgery, she showed no concern, only her sense of humor–how she could laugh at almost any situation. She felt that this ordeal was nothing more than a minor interruption in her life.
Sent: Sent: Thursday, April 28, 2005 9:21 PM
Subject: Subject: Just an update ...
Hello All,
First of all, I just want to acknowledge the fact that I must have the best set of friends and the best family! I can't thank you all enough for all the prayers and support you have given us. Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I want to let you all know that I did get the final details of my surgery and it will be on Tuesday May 3 @ 1:30 (they moved it up a bit, which is great ... this way I will not have to starve as long. :) ) Eric and I met with Dr. Tom on Monday and she is still going to attempt to remove this little beast through the scope which would be awesome! (The recovery time would only be about a week) But due to the size and depending on what she sees once she gets in there, she may have to make an incision, which would mean about a 3-4 week recovery. (Anybody see any good movies lately? :) ) If she is able to use the scope, I should be able to go home that night and if not, I will be there for three to four days before I come home. We will plan on having to stay but it would be awesome if we could come home, you know for Otis's [Andrea and Eric's dog] sake! Again, I can't thank you all enough! And I continue to believe that God only gives us the things we can handle and he has a reason for everything, so know that everything will go perfectly fine! (He may be just trying to tell me that I am so behind on my movies and Tivo'ed Oprahs that now is my time to catch up). Thanks again and we will keep you posted, although I have a feeling they will not let me bring my cell phone in with me, just kidding, but Eric should have his. Take care! Andrea
An ironic coincidence is that on Friday, April 8, 2005, Andrea had just participated in the Relay for Life cancer fundraiser in honor of a co-worker, Laura Peters, who is a cancer survivor. On the day after the event, Andrea called me, as she always did when she had done something special that she needed to share, and told me about the all-night walk.
I can remember her saying, "Dad, I did the most amazing thing last night. I walked in this cancer walk for a friend that I work with, and I could not believe how many people were there, and how many survivors there were, and all the luminarias that surrounded the field ... Dad, I am really going to get involved with this cancer thing and make it my charity and get busy with these events."
As always, Andrea never did anything unless she dove in headfirst. I don't think what lay ahead was part of her plan, nor did she have any idea how she would play a significant part in this event in the following years.
* * *
As I drifted through my daydream, I heard, "Andrea Theis, Andrea Theis."
Like with a rolling round of monsoon thunder, I was brought back to reality. We quickly approached Dr. Tom, and she motioned us over to a small room away from the main waiting area. Since the waiting room was very crowded, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. We entered the room and Dr. Tom closed the door. We expected to hear, especially since the surgery had been so short, that everything had gone well, just as expected. Eric quickly asked how Andrea was doing, and the doctor replied that Andrea was in the recovery room and was just now coming out from under the anesthesia; "HOWEVER, ...." The word struck me like a bolt of lightning as Dr. Tom continued:
"The tumor was larger and more involved than we had hoped for, so we had to remove the left ovary, and I am sorry to say that we found a cancerous growth on the back side of the ovary. Initial tests indicate small-cell ovarian cancer."
We stood in total disbelief, especially with the results of all the tests and having no family history of cancer. How could this be? Eric displayed a look of total distress. My hand rested on his shoulder and I could sense the sudden fear resonate through his body. At that point, I don't think either of us really heard the words that Dr. Tom said—we just watched her lips move as if in slow motion and as if we were both trapped in some wild nightmare.
I grabbed Eric's hand and pulled him close as we listened to the doctor repeat her words. All of them seemed to run together as I tried to comprehend everything she was saying, but all I could focus on was one word: Cancer. A word that is one of the most dreaded in the English language had come out of nowhere—like a bolt of lightning.
Webster's verifies my fear with this definition of cancer: [Latin, crab, cancer] a : a malignant tumor of potentially unlimited growth that expands locally by invasion and systemically by metastasis
b: an abnormal bodily state marked by such tumors: something evil or malignant that spreads destructively.
Now it wasn't just a word in the dictionary. Now it was real, and we had to survive, stand tall, and turn our attention and concern to Andrea. After the doctor left us, and Eric started toward the recovery room, I stopped him with a tap on the shoulder. At a loss for words, we looked at one another and I could see tears forming in the corners of Eric's eyes. I struggled to choke back my tears and said, "Eric, she'll be Ok. Let her know that."
Chapter Three
Dad, I Have Cancer!
Eric walked to the recovery room to be with Andrea when she woke up. I knew that I needed to make some phone calls—two that would be extremely difficult. I also knew that I would have to stand tall and remain confident, even though I really didn't know enough at this point to speak intelligently about Andrea's situation.
My first call was to my wife, Sally, whom Andrea loved, and the feeling was mutual. She had stopped by the hospital earlier, when Andrea was in surgery, but now she was at our daughter Carly's high school softball game.
She knew it was me when she answered her cell phone.
"What did you find out?"
"Well, Dr. Tom had to remove the ovary. It's cancer, Sal."
"You're joking. I know you're kidding me. It's benign, right?"
"No, I'm not kidding. We'll have to sit down with the girls tonight and tell them."
Now, Sally could tell by the seriousness in my voice that I wasn't kidding.
"Have you seen Andrea yet? How is Eric? How is Susan?"
"Eric's in with Andrea now. I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."
We said our "love yous" and hung up.
The next call I had to make was to my parents. Andrea had always been the daughter my father never had. She was very close to my mom and dad, and in the last couple of years, she would many times call them during the mid-morning to tell them she would be by for lunch–and that she was bringing it. These lunchtime visits thrilled my parents because Andrea would fill them in on all her comings and goings with Eric, Otis and their friends. She was, without a doubt, in my parents' minds, all that a granddaughter could be.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Standing Tallby Tom Benford Andrea Benford Theis Copyright © 2011 by Tom Benford with Andrea Benford Theis. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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