Mo About Cancer

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    Trash

    Once a week we are all cognizant of taking out our garbage and filling our recycling bins. It’s an active act on our part that requires the patience to collect, sort and remove waste from our homes. But it is not all us. There is a dedicated service that comes and removes it from in front of our homes every day whether it is raining, snowing or just plain humid. It appears to be important for each one of us weekly. Some of us look forward to it; some of us actually dread it. What is clear is that the service runs daily with a dedicated staff that makes sure that this is done consistently throughout the year. It is amazing, noble, and often forgotten.

    I was born in a small town called Ahmadi in Kuwait, where I lived until the Iraqi invasion in 1990. While this moment in my life is filled with many stories, I will choose one that I truly feel has touched me more than anything else I know about how communities thrive. During the occupation of Kuwait in the beginning several months, all public services ceased to exist. The one service that was sorely missed was the garbage truck that took the trash from in front of the people’s homes. As days went by, I watched as piles of waste increased on the streets, in alley ways and in front of large mansions. It was filthy, smelly and nauseating to walk amongst these streets. Flies and rats became plentiful feeding off what people threw out. It was a frightening vision of the importance of not forgetting how vital this service was to the community it served.

    Once a year, we are pleasantly reminded that it is “Melanoma Awareness Month” and through the commotion of our lives we attempt to do our best to make visible that which needs to remain constant throughout the year. Three of my friends shared with you stories that spoke of their struggles with this deadly disease. There are many more that go untold that are held in the hearts of the dedicated staff that work diligently all year long to provide the care that my patients need. Today I sat in clinic and watched each one of them do their work. Their work may feel inconsequential, my nurse answering a patient phone call, my medical assistant “rooming” the patients and my physician assistant telling me the latest troubles of the patient she had just seen. In my eyes, each played on their instrument strumming almost perfectly. I can only imagine the amount of chaos, just like in Kuwait, if I did not have my team. What an honor to be a part of them!

    In this month with my heart, I take a moment, to honor the untold stories of our heroes, those who make their lives a part of others helping them through difficult times, the families that support my patients traveling through these troubled waters.

    So the next time you take out your trash, reflect on that which really is taking care of you.

    Mo

     

    In case you missed my guest bloggers who wrote for Melanoma Awareness Month, here are the links to their stories:

    On May 7th, Tom Armitage shared his battle with melanoma in his blog entitled “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”.

    On May 14th, Molly Menard shared the story of her husband’s fight with melanoma in her blog entitled “Melanoma? That’s it?”

    On May 21st, Brett Yates shared his father’s journey with melanoma in his blog entitled “Cheers and Have a Wonderful Life”.

    Thanks to all of my guest bloggers who shared their stories this month!

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    Cheers and Have a Wonderful Life!

    Since May is Melanoma Awareness Month, I’ve invited others affected by melanoma to guest blog on the 7th, 14th and the 21st. I’ll wrap up the month by blogging again on the 28th. Today’s blog is written by Brett Yates. Enjoy.

     

    We’ve all been conditioned to get our regular checkups, right? A physical every year. A dental cleaning twice a year. We even get the car oil changed every 3 months. Why isn’t a skin cancer screening on that list of necessities we take care of each year? It should be.

    Our Story

    We had known that its return was possible for years, but if I’m honest I wasn’t considering it seriously. So, on January 31, 2011, it was with great surprise and shock we learned that my father’s melanoma had spread. Dad was first diagnosed with melanoma in 2007 when a tumor was found growing on his shoulder. It was surgically removed and he hoped that would be the last he would hear of it. It returned 3 years later and was again surgically removed. But this time it stuck around. Tumors were discovered in his liver, lungs, spinal cord, and brain.

    From the time of Dad’s original melanoma diagnosis in 2007 to the end of 2010 before his tumor metastasized, his life was fairly normal. He was getting checked regularly and doing everything a person with a melanoma diagnosis should do. However, once the cancer spread, it did so with a vengeance. We had less than 3 months with him after the stage IV diagnosis.

    Brett Yates- Yates Family

    My brother, Dustin, recalls one of Dad’s last outings:

    “I remember Dad had wanted to go down to the KWWL studios for quite some time for a tour and we finally got it scheduled. It just so happened to fall on Valentine’s Day 2011. We made an evening of it and surprised him before we went out to eat. He had no idea that we had been planning it. He was very surprised. He got to meet the whole group and even got to sit in Ron’s chair. I’m forever grateful to Mark [Schnackenberg], more than he’ll ever know, for being so generous in allowing us to come for a tour and even hang out for both of the evening newscasts.

    Who would have known at the time that it was one of the last outings with Dad. It also turned out to be the last picture of him. Looking back at it now, I can’t help but think how very thankful I am that we were able to do that for him.“

    SAMSUNG

    Who Was My Father?

    To give you an idea of who my father was, what his effect on the world was, I need only tell you about his visitation. I stood for nearly 4 hours greeting a line of people wrapped around the block who had come to pay their respects. Many waited in line for an hour and a half before reaching the visitation room. My father had an effect on people the extent of which I hadn’t truly known until that visitation. He had a quiet emotion that was often hidden behind his strong, boisterous personality. I think that is what endeared him to so many people. He loved life so clearly and loved the company of others. It’s that effect on people we should all strive to replicate. And if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll have the same turnout when it’s our time.

    Brett Yates- Steve and Sons

    How We’re Fighting Melanoma Now

    Playing golf was one of Dad’s favorite pastimes, so every year around the anniversary of his death, we gather to celebrate his life over a round of golf with the goal to raise money for research and awareness of melanoma. To date, and with the help of everyone who participates and donates, the tournament has raised over $50,000 for research being done by Dr. Mo and his team at the University of Iowa.

    Brett Yates- SYMA Check

    My mother describes the reason for wanting to do the golf tournament by quoting something she read once:

    Why does God allow disasters to happen? Is He punishing us? The Bible does not give an adequate explanation for disasters any more than it can for diseases such as cancer. There are times when no answers will do. There are times when nothing else will do except we roll up our sleeves and pitch in to do whatever we can to reverse the bad fortune of the moment.

    Brett Yates- Steve and Lani

    We’re hoping to do the golf tournament each year to continue the fight against this terrible disease. We would love to get more people involved. If you’ve been affected by melanoma in some way, maybe you have a family member who has died, maybe you’ve survived melanoma yourself, or maybe you just want to be involved, we’d love to hear from you. This past year, Molly Menard, who wrote last week’s post, was there with doctors from Iowa City who volunteered their time for free skin cancer screenings. Those screenings may have saved someone’s life!

    Let’s work together to end this disease. We’d love to acknowledge you and your family at the event. We’ll even change the name of the tournament to the Iowa Melanoma Golf Tournament (or something more catchy :)) if more families join the cause. You can learn more about the tournament at www.steveyatesmelanomaawareness.org.

    A Final Note From Dad

    I’ll leave you with words from Dad himself. Quoted below is an email he sent to his colleagues at John Deere upon his retirement. It is surprisingly appropriate, especially if you think of his retiring not just from 31 years of work, but from 63 years of life.

    “Well my time has come. It’s time to hit the send button on this last e-mail.

    Today is my last day as an active John Deere employee. I do not know where the time has gone. It has been a good run, but I am looking forward to the change. I’ve known many of you for more than 30 years. Some say the toughest part of retiring is saying goodbye to friends and colleagues…

    Well, for me…what they say is true.

    I wish each of you all the best in the years to come, both within John Deere and personally.

    I’ve enjoyed working with…and knowing…all of you.

    God’s rich blessings and best wishes to each of you.

    If you need a 4th to complete a foursome sometime…give me a call.

    Cheers and Have a Wonderful Life!!”

    Brett Yates- Steve North Endzone

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    Melanoma? That’s it?

    Since May is Melanoma Awareness Month, I’ve invited others affected by melanoma to guest blog on the 7th, 14th and the 21st. I’ll wrap up the month by blogging again on the 28th. Today’s blog is written by Molly Menard.

     

    I am not a blogger. I had to google what blogging is all about. I am sure this is not your normal kind of blog, but here it is. I am sharing with you the dates I replay over and over again in my head. Many things that happened in between are painful and I don’t like to think about them. Hell, the stuff below is painful. But is there anything about Melanoma that’s not?

    January 2007.

    Mark, my husband, walked out of our bathroom one night in his boxers. I remember it just like it happened a minute ago. “I think my mole is changing” he said. I could not tell, but then again, I never paid it any attention, it was always there. We googled moles and came across pictures and at that time, the ABCD’s of Melanoma (sometime between 2007 and 2011 they added the E to the ABCD’s of melanoma). His mole did not look like anything we saw. So we did not worry.

    Mark Menard family42010

    A few months later I said to Mark, “I think you’re right; your mole is getting bigger. Maybe you should call and get it checked out.”   He put it off.   We were not too worried.

    June 2007.

    One day in late June, Mark was wrestling around with our youngest daughter Stacy who was 7 at the time. Mark grabbed his abdomen and dropped to the floor. Stacy’s foot had rubbed against her daddy’s mole, ripping it off. Mark decided to have it taken off. His appointment was right before the 4th of July.

    July 2007.

    A few days after the 4th, the phone rang, “Hello, this is Dr. Smith from the dermatology clinic at Balboa Naval Hospital. Is Senior Chief Menard available?”   I knew right then that something was wrong, because really, how often do doctors call you at home? She told me his biopsy results were in, he had melanoma. She had already made his appointment with Dr. Chan, the surgical oncologist. I remember thinking, “If he’s going to get cancer, at least it’s this one.”

    Before July was up, Mark had surgery – a wide incision and lymph node biopsy. Dr. Chan gave us the news that one lymph node from his groin came back positive, the melanoma had traveled. Another surgery was scheduled in a few weeks. They were going after more lymph nodes, this time in his leg. That is when we knew it just got serious.

    Mark Menard sandiego walk2010

    December 25th 2009.

    It had been two and half years since Mark was diagnosed with stage III Melanoma. In that time, Mark had a number of surgeries, scans, treatments and we lost count of the number of doctor appointments.

    After putting the kids Christmas presents under the tree, Mark and I crawled into bed shortly after 1:00am.

    I woke up almost an hour later. Mark was having a seizure. The next thing I knew, I was on the phone, repeating over and over 10182 Voge St, our address. 14 minutes later, the paramedics arrived. I hung up the phone with the 911 operator. Two paramedics and six firefighters were crammed into our bedroom and the hallway outside. I sat on the hallway floor shaking. Mark finally came too. He was confused. His first question to the paramedic, “Where’s my wife?” All that is going on with him and he was worried about me.

    5:00 a.m., I call our moms from the hospital, crying, begging for them to pray.

    6:20 a.m., Christmas morning, four hours after Mark had his seizure; I sat next to my husband, holding my husband’s hand, trying to be brave. The ER doctor sat on the other side of Mark’s hospital bed. Mark looked scared. I was scared. We knew what was going on. We knew what the doctor was going to say

    “The CT scan shows one tumor in the……..” I have no idea what he said after that. I was rejoicing! One tumor! Not multiples – just one!   Thank you God, just one! We can fight one! It was a small victory for us. Thank God! Just one!

    I called “the moms” with the news. Both moms had already booked their flights, they were on their way. Our neighbors loaded all of our Christmas presents into their car, along with our daughters and brought them to the hospital. By 9:00 am, we were celebrating Christmas on the floor of Mark’s hospital room. I was praying, begging God, “Please don’t let this be our last Christmas”. Shortly after the presents were opened, Mark’s best friend came to pick up the girls. We had no idea what was going to happen next and we did not want the girls to see it.

    December 27th, 2009.

    5:50 a.m., they came into the room to get Mark. They were taking him into surgery to remove the tumor from his brain.

    December 25, 2010.

    We are all smiles. The girls (ages 10 and 13) are sitting on the floor waiting for daddy to pass out their Christmas gifts piled under the tree. I am thanking God for giving us this Christmas. Mark was doing well. He had retired from the Navy in November after a 22 year career. We moved from San Diego and bought our very first home in Iowa. He was on a successful BRAF study. Things were looking up. I was thanking God.

    Mark with his kids June 2011

    July 14th, 2011.

    10:03 p.m., four years after being diagnosed with stage III melanoma, 8 surgeries and 5 failed treatments, my husband died. Mark died at the age of 41. Mark died because of a mole.

    It has been almost three years since we lost Mark. I think back to the phone call with Dr. Smith often. I had no idea. Mark had no idea. How could a stupid mole he had his entire life kill him?

    I tell people about doing self-skin exams, I tell them about the ABCDE’s of melanoma. I have set up free skin cancer screenings for anyone who wants to come. I warn parents and teens about the risk involved when using tanning beds. I have gone to local schools to talk to students and staff about melanoma. I have planted trees at our local school, so the kids can play on a shaded playground.

    I am still fighting melanoma.   I promised Mark I would not stop fighting.

    – Molly Menard

    Mark Menard

    The below photo is of Molly and her daugher Sarah, taken on Saturday, May 3rd at the Steve Yates Melanoma Awareness Golf Tournament in Waterloo, Iowa. Molly and Sarah held a free skin cancer screening at the event where nearly 50 people were checked for skin cancer by two dermatologists from the University of Iowa, Dr. Amanda Tschetter and Dr. Krishna Mutgi. Keeping that fighting promise to Mark, Molly coordinates a free skin cancer screening each fall in her home town of West Branch, Iowa. This year’s screening is scheduled for Saturday, October 4th.

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    I’ve Got You Under My Skin

    Since May is Melanoma Awareness Month, I’ve invited others affected by melanoma to guest blog on the 7th, 14th and 21st. I’ll wrap up the Melanoma Awareness month by blogging again on the 28th. Today’s blog is written by Tom Armitage. Enjoy. 

     

    Do you know how men never want to go to the doctor? No matter what! “Oh, it will go away and besides it doesn’t hurt.” Well do I have a story for you! One day I noticed a small lump on my scalp under my rapidly receding hairline. But worse than that, my wife also noticed it. Before I knew it, my family doctor was looking at the lump. He said it’s a common cyst and should be removed before it causes trouble. Well, it wasn’t a cyst but instead it was termed a “vascular mass” and sent to the lab. It was not cancerous but the margins around the mass contained some melanoma cells. Was I surprised!

    After receiving a diagnosis of 4th stage melanoma, the first thing I did was to find out as much about the disease as possible. It didn’t take long to learn that it wasn’t a pretty picture. The second thing I did was to realize that cancer may change my life at some point but I wasn’t going to change my life because of cancer. So, I didn’t. I continued to do everything that I would normally do. After all, there is nothing on my bucket list. No need to skydive, sail the 7 seas, or run with the bulls in Pamplona.

    But, there I was, 64 years old and wondering what the hell was going to happen next. After all, I had no symptoms and the melanoma was discovered by accident. Then I met Mo. He kept telling me “this is not a freight train” as we explored my options and I became more anxious about doing something, anything to start a treatment. Another test? What was he waiting for? I began to realize that I was on a journey—–through a jungle and Mo was my guide. Although I knew Mo was an oncologist he was more like a mentor who was priming me to succeed. Mo made me feel that we were a team. We decided to try a new drug called Ipilimumab.

    Here I am, 67 years old, minus one pituitary gland, and cancer free. I’ve graduated to a PET scan every 6 months. So as far as I am concerned, I have no worries until the night before my next scan. I go through long periods of time not thinking of my diagnosis. Am I afraid it will come back? Not really, I know it will. I have a healthy respect for my situation but until it changes, I will follow the good advice of a friend that I walk with three mornings a week. Right Foot!…..Left Foot!……Breathe!…..Repeat!

    So, what’s with the positive attitude? In my early thirties, I was pretty sure I was going to die. No, seriously I thought I was going to die. It was traumatic. There was no medical evidence to support my contention and anyone who could dispel it was no longer living. When I was three, my father died at age 38, his father at 36, and both my namesake uncles at 28 and 34. Was I next? I grew up without a father and so did my father. My biggest worry was that my two young children would have this same experience. After I passed 38, I felt thankful and never looked back.

    Thirty years ago I realized that every day was a gift and after being diagnosed with melanoma, I am continuing to enjoy each day as it occurs. I am thankful for all my blessings and Doctor Mo.

    -Tom Armitage

    Tom Armitage

     

     

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    May is Melanoma Awareness Month

    Dear Friends,

    May 1st kicks off Melanoma Awareness Month. Guest bloggers will take over my blog on May 7th, 14th and 21st and share their stories of melanoma. I will wrap up Melanoma Awareness Month by blogging on May 28th. Monday, May 5th is Melanoma Monday and the American Academy of Dermatology asks that we all wear black to bring awareness of this disease. Take a photo of yourself and upload it to my Facebook page, Melanoma Iowa, on Monday to show your support.

    Stay out of trouble

    Mo