The night of April 7th marks one and one half years since the beginning of the crisis which almost took my life.   One and one half years ago marks the night in which a team of emergency room nurses and physicians came together and responded in a most positive way.   I’ve heard that it is a night that this team still marvels over.   For me, one and one half years ago marks the beginning of a miracle.

Even today, it is hard to close my eyes at night and not think about it.   I review the events and actions of the night.   I can’t help but feel in my heart that we did everything correctly.   Charlie and I made all the right decisions that night.   We contacted our neighbor, Greg Polites who is an emergency room physician.   We drove ourselves to Barnes Hospital Emergency.   I held on to consciousness until I could do so no longer.   We did everything we could, and yet it was out of our hands.   It was one and one half years ago that I said, if it’s my time . . .  take me, I’m okay with it.

The doctors did everything they could think of.   They asked all the appropriate questions.   They took x-rays.   They incubated me when I could no longer breathe.   They called another one of our neighbors, Mark Wall, who was working in the Radiology department that night, to find out why a 47 year old who seemed perfectly healthy, was lying on the table dying and they didn’t know what to do to help.   They didn’t know what was happening.   They didn’t know why it was happening.   Dr. Wall gave them the answer and within an hour, a thoracic surgeon was at the hospital inserting a needle in my pericardial sac to relieve the pressure caused by a bleed in the membrane around my heart from a yet undiagnosed cancer.   When I regained consciousness, I remember the emergency room team congratulating themselves for a job well done.   And well done it was indeed.   I shared in their joy silently as the drugs they had given me had paralyzed my limbs.   The team was unaware I had gained consciousness and I couldn’t open my eyes or move my limbs to let them know I was awake.   I too was applauding their efforts.

On April 7th it will be one and one half years.   I am very happy to report that my cancer, Angiosarcoma, which was considered non-curable and terminal within 3 – 6 month, is virtually undetectable.   It is most likely still present in my body on a microscopic level but according to the March 29th, MRI of my head/neck, heart and abdomen, there is no new growth and actually there is a slight decrease in the amount of scar tissue.   I still have 4 more months of chemotherapy every week.   I have very minimal side-effects.   I’m beginning to grow hair.   It’s still a bit patchy, but it’s hair nonetheless.   The MRI of my head showed absolutely nothing . . .  which I’m not exactly sure how to take.   The most recent article that we have read has stated that the chances of anyone with a Sarcoma (Angiosarcoma is a very rare subset of the Sarcoma category) making a full recovery is about 1 – 3%. Therefore it is safe to say that the chances of me making a full recovery which I have is less than ½%, or conversely, my chances of not recovering from this was better than 99.5%.   Again, it’s a miracle.

I am happy to say that I think very good medical research on Charlie’s part; very sound medical advice; incredible medical care and incredible heartfelt prayers all took part in my full recovery.   The medical care spanned across America, the prayers spanned across The Americas, from Canada to Costa Rica, and spanned across the pond to the UK.   I’m no Lance Armstrong, but I have an incredible team of care-givers and prayer-givers.   I am very blessed to see another Spring come into bloom.   I am very blessed to have a wonderful and supportive partner, a wonderful and supportive family and a very special group of friends who have shown their support in so many countless ways.   I again thank you for your cards, notes and calls.   I thank you for the support you have given Charlie throughout this entire ordeal.   I thank you because through your support, you have helped me kill the cancer cells that chemotherapy could not reach.

You won’t find it in any Seder Book, but now you know why for Charlie and me, this night is different from any other night.

We wish everyone a very Happy Easter and a very Happy Pesach.

All our love,

Randy and Charlie