Cancer Kickin' Warrior

MARK S. DPM

Never, ever give up

I am a cancer warrior. I am writing to share my story with you. Perhaps this story can help some other people. I am fifty-two years old. For the past twenty-five years I have been practicing podiatry in Columbia County I was on staff of the old Greene County Memorial Hospital from 1982 until it closed. Ever since our Catskill hospital closed, I have been an attending physician at Columbia Memorial Hospital. For twenty-five years my family has lived in Catskill. My three daughters are proud graduates of CHS.

I grew up in Far Rockaway, Queens, and I spent the summers of my childhood on the beach, swimming in the ocean, snorkeling, and getting sunburns. I never used sunscreen, and I never wore a hat. But I did have fun.

Let’s fast forward to 2003. Just before our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, my wife noticed a small black dot on the top of my head. A biopsy showed it was melanoma. It was very shallow. The cancer was removed, and a “wide local excision” took off a large part of my scalp. Tests showed that the cancer had not spread. We caught it in time. I was safe, or so we thought.

One morning in October 2006 I coughed up a lot of blood. Tests showed a large tumor in the lower part of my left lung. The melanoma was back. A thoracotomy was performed at St. Peter’s Hospital in Albany, and one-half of my left lung was removed. Scans showed that the cancer had not spread beyond the one lung. After the surgery I was evaluated at the University of Pennsylvania and accepted into a clinical trial. They were going to give me an experimental drug designed to stop the melanoma from coming back. Everything looked great. I just needed one more scan before they could start. One problem—the scan showed a tumor in my brain. So it was back to St. Peter’s in December 2006 for brain surgery. The tumor was removed, the cancer was gone, and I couldn’t walk. My left leg was paralyzed. I went from St. Peter’s to Sunnyview Rehabilitation Hospital in Schenectady, and with lots of physical therapy I was soon walking with no problem. Things looked good until a routine scan a few weeks later showed some more brain tumors. It was time for three weeks of radiation therapy. Then the brain quieted down; however, there were more tumors in my lungs and other organs. So in April 2007 I was admitted to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston for interleukin-2 treatments. One week in, one week home, then another week in. Suffice to say it wasn’t pleasant.

Things were quiet until June when some remaining tumors in my brain started to bleed. Back to St. Peter’s for another craniotomy. I tolerated that surgery well. Even though there was bleeding and more brain surgery, I came through without a neurological deficit. I could walk, talk, and think without any problems. A few weeks later I had some more radiation to the brain.

Now I’m traveling to Yale in New Haven, Connecticut, every few weeks for a new treatment. The saga continues.

What’s amazing is that I feel well (except for needing two naps a day).

What do I hope telling my story will accomplish? Well, first, I want to make sure everyone is aware of the dangers of the sun, even in the winter. You need sun block on the slopes as well as on the beach. Parents protect your children; make sure they always wear sun block and wide-brimmed hats. Don’t go to tanning parlors. UV light from the sun or from a spa can kill you. Next, get regular skin exams from a dermatologist or your primary care doctor. And if a mole changes in color, shape, or size, see your doctor right away.

Finally, I want other cancer patients to know that there are wonderfully talented doctors, nurses, and other health-care providers out there who can help you get through this. Don’t despair. There are great breakthroughs coming every day. The treatment that appears to be helping me now wasn’t even around a few years ago. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. It’s your body.

* Now, people, hold onto your seats. This is now 2010; I want you to take a peek at my latest letter from Dr. S.

When I wrote to you three years ago, I said that I wasn’t a statistic and even though the life expectancy of someone with stage 4 melanoma was less than one year, I knew that some people survived, so why wouldn’t it be me. My perseverance has paid off. Thanks to a new drug called Ipilimumab, which I first received on Halloween in 2007, I am now cancer free. My oncologist told me the great news two months ago. Ipilimumab doesn’t kill cancer; it altered my immune system so that my body could find and destroy the melanoma cells. This drug is still considered experimental, but it looks like the FDA may approve it this year. You may have seen news reports about “Ipi” earlier this month. It is the first drug that has been shown to extend the lives of some stage 4 melanoma patients. The treatment isn’t pleasant, and it doesn’t w