John S.

About John S.

The morning two years ago when I learned I had prostate cancer, the three “heroes” in my life converged. Now, whenever I reflect on that day, and it’s often, I take time to celebrate my caregivers. The call came from my urologist, Dr. Charlie Burns. He was always “Charlie” to me. I had known him as a friend since college where we partied together. He became my “Doc,” and we remained close friends and confidants. When I saw his name pop up on my phone, I knew the news wasn’t good otherwise I would have gotten a text with the results of my biopsy. I had seen Charlie a few months earlier for my annual appointment. My PSA level was unremarkable at the time, but he “felt something” when he did his digital exam. The results of the first biopsy were “fine.” But, as heroes are given to do, he sent the results out for a computer analysis and the results came back with a “red flag.” He repeated the biopsy and my Gleason score was 9 – almost off the charts. Charlie’s professionalism that morning was only overshadowed by his empathy and concern for me. He hooked me up with a remarkable surgeon he knew at Johns Hopkins. Today I’m forever grateful when those PSA results continue to come back “0.” Kirby, caregiver #2, a one year old redbone coonhound we had rescued from the S.P.C.A. two days before Charlie’s call was home alone with me that morning. Even though he was new to the family, he tilted his head inquisitively and instinctively looked up at me with his floppy ears and big, sad golden eyes. He seemed to sense my predicament with devotion and the unconditional love that dogs possess and share freely. After Charlie and I finished our conversation I hung up and turned to him and for the first time realized the meaning of the ironic cliché, “Who rescued who?” My first call was to Mary Jo, my wife of forty-two years, and primary “hero.” She was at her Guidance position at the high school and I needed what? Guidance, strength, courage to overcome my fears. We talked. She allowed me to express myself and she LISTENED. Over the next few months I tapped her reservoir of compassion, love, patience and positive energy. She was my calm escort and guide the day of surgery. Hers was the first reassuring smile when I came out of my anesthesia fog. And she has been my understanding partner, escort and loving pilot since. When we moved into our new home at the beach five months ago, I was walking Kirby one morning and met a unique neighbor I affectionately call the “rock lady.” She sits on her deck and creatively paints colorful stones which she then places in a sand-filled cooler and freely offers to anyone passing by. She calls her project and life work – “The Kindness Rocks Project.” For Mary Jo’s Christmas stocking I chose one – “You Keep Me Going.” Caregivers don’t begin as caregivers. They come in many forms: professionals, family members, friends, pets. They don’t take a course and pass a test for the job. Most aren’t licensed or degree-certified. They are qualified and united by their patience, compassion, empathy, resilience, trust and life-saving strength which they freely bestow. They pay attention to our needs. And most essentially, they are qualified and united by their unconditional love. Thanks to the Prostate Cancer Foundation’s chance to share my story this Valentine’s day.

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