Caring for a Cancer Patient: Our Story of Survival

I was surprised to receive an email the other day from Cameron Von St. James. He is the husband of a cancer survivor, and has written a great article on the subject. I'm proud to be able to present it in its entirety below. Thanks, Cameron!

Caring for a Cancer Patient: Our Story of Survival

On November 21, 2005, just over a month before my only daughter would celebrate her first Christmas, my wife, Heather, received word that she had malignant pleural mesothelioma, a rare and extremely deadly form of cancer. Suddenly, instead of preparing for the most joyful time of the year with a precious new addition to our family, we were facing the darkest time of our lives.

Before we left the doctor’s office, the weight of being a caregiver fell upon me. After sharing the news, the doctor told us a little about the diagnosis and about various treatment options. Heather could be treated at the local university hospital, go to a regional cancer facility with excellent care but no devoted mesothelioma program, or fly to Boston to be treated by a mesothelioma specialist. Heather stared at the doctor. Her face screamed for someone to rescue her. I blurted out, “Get us to Boston!” It was the first of many tough decisions I would make for my family over the following months.

In the months ahead, chaos ruled our lives. Heather could no longer work, and I was only able to work part time while I took her to treatments and doctors visits and made arrangements for our trips to Boston. There was too much to do. At times, fear overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to imagine my life as a single father, left to care for Lily alone. The situation angered and terrified me, but I realized that Heather needed me to be her rock. I did my best to remain strong for her.

Each time the circumstances seemed to be too much to bear, help came. It came from friends, family and even strangers. Sometimes the help was financial in nature. Other times caring words or practical assistance in daily activities gave me the courage to carry on. It took me a while to learn how to accept these generous offers of help. At first, my pride interfered, but I quickly learned that there is no room for pride in a battle with cancer. Once I accepted this, a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. My strongest advice to any caregivers is to accept every offer of help that comes your way.

The job of a caregiver is difficult. There isn’t any escape. Fear, anger, resentment and worry will try to overcome you. Allow yourself to have bad days, but then you must pick yourself up and move on. Remember that others are there to help. When someone offers assistance, graciously accept. Use any resource available to you to stay strong and support your loved one.

It took years for life to return to normal for my family. After months and months of difficult mesothelioma treatment, Heather was able to defy the odds and beat this terrible disease. Now, over seven years since her tragic diagnosis, Heather remains healthy and cancer free. To other caregivers and cancer patients out there, I would say hold onto hope. That hope will get you through the darkest times. You are stronger than you know.

Finally Home

6000 miles and several rainstorms later, I broke from the pack and finally pulled in to home, where Stacy and the dogs were waiting. What a relief to be home after such an exhausting trip!

I want to take a minute to thank everyone who has supported me along the way, through donations or hospitality. It's been a life changing experience thanks to all of you! I've raised about $3000 so far, and there are a few days left to make your last minute donations!

Last Leg Home

Before we set out for home, the four of us stopped by the Columbus Fire Union Hall, a beautifully restored railroad station, replete with pieces of fire department history. 

We hung out a little longer than planned, as a thunderstorm passed through downtown. Hoping that this would be the last of the rain, we made one more stop before pulling out of town to visit Brutus Buckeye, the Ohio State mascot.

Hoping for clear skies, we set out through West Virginia on our way home. I visited my first Cracker Barrel (to think that I'd passed at least a hundred of them along the way and never stopped!) and the weather gods seemed to be on our side. But not for long. About 40 miles west of Frederick, MD, the skies opened up. Two of my riding buddies lacked any rain gear, but it probably wouldn't have helped anyway. We had no choice but to wait it out under an overpass...

Final Days, and a Surprise Visit

I'm home now, and have fully entered slacker mode, so the final few updates are going up now. My deepest apologies!

The ride from Chicago and down through Indiana was grey and rainy, but brightened by a lunchtime meeting with my old friend Matt Despos in Ft Wayne, IN. Once I made it to Columbus, I pulled in to the city's downtown station, which houses Engines 1 and 9, Truck 1 and the Battalion Chief. About an hour later, I heard the familiar rumble of Harleys... three of my brothers from Kentland had traveled the 400+ miles from Landover, MD to join me on the last leg of my journey.

After dinner, we spent a few hours with the Columbus Fire guys, talking about tactics, fires and running box alarms. No fires, but the companies did make a pluck a hapless victim from the clutches of the Ohio River.

Happy Birthday to Me

Sunday morning had me riding the short (only 4 hours!) road to the Windy City, where I met my long time friend Kate. We went to college together, and Kate's now a lawyer in the big city. She hiked the Appalachian Trail last summer with her brother and friend Emily, and she's now working with her friend Jay to splice together an awesome documentary about the adventure. It's amazing how many of my gripes about this trip are the same ones she had about the Trail... Kate and Jay took me out in Chicago to celebrate my birthday with some Giordano's deep dish pizza, a visit to the famous "bean" and a private screening of the movie's rough cut.

The "bean", as photographed by a professional...

Much better in real life...

I think I need a haircut.

Iowa City, and an Unexpected Donor

Iowa City, home of Iowa University, is home to a small, but well organized city department. The guys took me in and showed me the kind of hospitality I've grown accustomed to. It wasn't until I got up in the morning, though, and talked to the oncoming shift that I got a sense of how meaningful my visit was.

On the wall of their day room, there's a cork board with a pamphlet from Christopher Bok's funeral. Chris, or "Bok" as the guys called him, was a beloved Iowa City Fire Lieutenant. He was diagnosed too late with colorectal cancer, the 3rd leading cause of death by cancer, and died on May 29, 2011. One of the firemen gave me his memorial sticker - the letters BOK in a spiderweb, because of his love for Spiderman. I was honored to affix it to my helmet, as one of the men observed that "Bok would've liked that, riding around the country on your helmet."

At breakfast, one of the guys slipped me a donation; I found out later that his wife had died from ovarian cancer. And while I was enroute to my next destination, I got a very generous, and completely out of the blue, donation from Karen Bok, Chris's widow. She's on a mission of her own to educate everyone she can about the early signs and recognition of cancer. I was so touched, I was speechless...

Chris and Karen

Beginning of the End

 Wyoming was freezing cold, and Nebraska gave me my first rain experience. Even though the sky was occasionally clear, the intermittent drizzle coupled with the less than breathtaking scenery was enough to begin breaking my spirit. 


After hours of uninterrupted boredom, I got to Grand Island (which is a misnomer), the third largest city in Nebraska. I happened to be wearing a Kentland t-shirt, which led one of the firefighters to ask me if I had ever "been to that place". Turned out that this guy took one of Matt Despos's auto extrication class a few years ago. What a small world. 

The Grand Island FD went to a fire the night I was there, but I've been too tired to ride at most of the places I spend the night. I didn't miss much though, as their "blaze" was is a commercial trash compactor.


The department is much older than I realized, organized in 1874. A lot of cool history remains on the walls of even their newest station, alongside the most modern of training tools.