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Noooo its not fair

eric strt6

eric strt6

Resident Curmudgeon
Sep 8, 2001
24,210
14,859
directly above the center of the earth
I just received a message that my Fire Department Captain, mentor and good friend has grade 4 Pancreatic Cancer.

George is one of those special people. He had this calm demeanor and friendly smile that said follow me and trust me when the scene was going south and the flames were getting bigger. He has a way of showing and telling you how do do things differently without making you feel like a royal screw up. Because of him I became a much better Fire Fighter and Human Being. I owe him much and now he is in the fight of his life. This sucks

For 30 years George pulled on his turnouts not matter what the call, no matter what the weather because his fellow Humans needed him. I have him by a few years in age and retired about 5 years after he did. I was there when he lost his wife, I know his kids. I have cut down and put in my living room a Christmas tree or two from his tree farm. So many images are going through my mind, my stomach is in knots. this just effing sucks

George in the Red Helmet on a wildland fire



His retirement dinner complete with the Fire Teddy Bear



Our Unit Citation


george and his 15 minutes of fame




Those were good times

where he is today
http://aprilandjoseph.typepad.com/my_weblog/georges-pancreatic-cancer-journey-timeline.html
 
JohnE

JohnE

filthy rascist
May 13, 2005
13,521
2,134
Front Range, dude...
Make sure he knows how you feel Eric, I am sure it will mean alot/give him strength in his battle to know such things.

Fight hard George, you have my thoughts and prayers and those of my family...
 
dan-o

dan-o

Turbo Monkey
Jun 30, 2004
6,499
2,805
That sucks, my brother has that **** too but he's only 48 with an 11yo kid.
I'd say something encouraging but, yeah. It's a ****ing nightmare.
Positive vibes for your buddy, sounds like he's surrounded with great friends.
 
eric strt6

eric strt6

Resident Curmudgeon
Sep 8, 2001
24,210
14,859
directly above the center of the earth
I remember pulling up to the Beatty Ridge Fire with George at the wheel. We were the first engine to arrive, the smoke column went up 1000s of feet. Flaming embers were hitting the winshield of the engine as we pulled into one of the hones driveway. George set the airbrake and said pull hose from the left the he headed off to do a quick size up. Adrian and me pulled the 300' wildland preconnect and George charged the line with water. Flames were everywhere and taller than we were. George put his hand on my shoulder and in a calming voice said" make a good anchor, we are at the head punch through the flames, stay in the black and sweep right. Good luck" most serious look I have ever sceen in his eyes. We stopped the flames -5-10 feet from the homes and held on until more engines arrived.
 
Toshi

Toshi

butthole powerwashing evangelist
Oct 23, 2001
39,449
8,531
Pancreatic cancer is indeed a bitch. One of my dad's mentors died from it, even self-diagnosing his own imaging study (as he was a radiologist).

It won't help your friend now, Eric, but the rest of you should use this as a wake up call to make sure your life and disability insurance is in order.
 
eric strt6

eric strt6

Resident Curmudgeon
Sep 8, 2001
24,210
14,859
directly above the center of the earth
FVCK


Written by his Daughter

Checking For Vital Signs
Thank you to everyone who read my last post and sent their well-wishes for my dad and our family. It means so much to have the support and love coming our way right now. I'm afraid that we received additional bad news this week. The same day I posted my last post, George & I met with his surgeon. George had decided that he wanted to go the traditional route of fighting early-stage pancreatic cancer, which is surgery first, followed by chemotherapy and radiation (he'd been given the choice of surgery first, or chemo first). Unfortunately, when the doctor came in to the exam room he began speaking with this phrase: "I have some bad news..." This post is about learning his cancer had metastasized, or spread beyond the pancreas.

~~~

For anyone keeping a tally, I've had my share of terrible things in my life. I remember when I was going through chemo, a well-meaning 60+ year-old fellow breast cancer patient squeezed my hand and said cheerfully, "Well, if this is the worst thing that ever happens to us, oh well!" Yeah... about that? I've already had some bad stuff, I wanted to say. Does that mean I can go home?

And it turns out, having cancer once doesn't get you off the hook for more bad stuff to come down the pike toward you either. You don't get to say, "No thank you. I've already had my fair share of crap."

This week I learned that lesson in a big way, sitting beside my dad in the surgeon's office. "I have some bad news," he said, drawing his chair close. "The cancer has spread to your liver and to a lymph node up in your collarbone area. You are no longer a candidate for surgery. It's Stage IV. I'm sorry."

Suddenly all the air in that little exam room seemed to be sucked out. My dad pushed is body back in his chair and put his hands over his face. I was awkwardly three feet away, not sure how to react. Hearing those words, I heard them both for myself (I'm going to lose my dad!), and I heard them for him (to be told you have limited time on this planet -- even more limited than we thought!).

I scooted my chair over and put my hand on his knee. Tears splashed on to the floor.

How can this be? George asked. How?!

As we left the doctor's office, the nurse looked at us with such sorrow. I'm so very sorry, she said. Just moments before she'd been chatting with me about my earrings while she took George's vital signs -- he'd lost some weight, but not too much. His pulse was normal. His blood pressure was good. No temperature.

Just terminal cancer.

Just like that.

Walk in thinking one thing, walk out and world is cracked and splitting apart -- again. Big ugly gaps in the skyline. The horizon, which used to be infinite, suddenly is looming right there. The world, no longer round and safe, has edges with ragged cliffs from which one can fall off... forever.

...

For the umpteenth time in two weeks, we stumbled out into a too-bright parking lot, dazed. Our eyes stinging. How do we drive on from here?

Next to the car, my dad suddenly reached over and pulled me close into a bear hug. Our roles reset back to the natural: not patient/caregiver, but father and child. Shield me from this! I clung to him as hard as I could, both for comfort and also fiercely rooting him to the Earth. Rooting myself to him. Rooting him to right here, right now. Not yet. You're not gone yet.

Now the fight begins.
 
dan-o

dan-o

Turbo Monkey
Jun 30, 2004
6,499
2,805
I'll tell you Eric, if the surgery they were contemplating was the Whipple procedure your friend is lucky he isnt a candidate. My brother went through that, spend nearly 3mos in ICU due to complications, and has had horrible quality of life in the past year as a result. And it still didn't remove all the cancer as it was attached to a major artery or some bull****.

Pancreatic cancer is a death sentence.
Be a good friend and encourage your buddy to live life to its fullest in his remaining time.
It's mind over matter and the will to live is an amazing power.
 
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