It's taken me a long while to muster up the sagacity to finally write this story. I have written it because I believe that we have a propitious future ahead of us and I want to share my optimism. Hope springs eternal!
I needed, as well, the engagement that writing this story will help gather my wits about me! It may also be cathartic and palliative. I'm not quite sure. So here goes! Let’s enter the court together, slam shut the door behind us, and commence playing!
After years of challenges followed by a long period of rehabilitation, I can finally say, and declare with all honesty, that I have been able to endure the physical and emotional ordeals of cancer and suffering a stroke as a result of what I learned from the game of squash…….and not just endure, but thrive.
It was the year 2013. My wife, Evy Kavaler, and along with a few of our fellow cycling friends, journeyed to the ever alluring Lake Tahoe - located at the California-Nevada border in the Sierras from our home in Berkeley with our steeds to ride in our annual adventure around the lake - a total length of 72 miles. Perfect cycling weather with wisps of clouds in the sky. Starting on the north shore, we made our way to the south shore, without incident, where we stopped for lunch. Riding around the lake in a clock-wise direction, I was feeling good, but by mile 50, I grew oddly weary and slowly fell behind. I didn't finish the trip until a half an hour behind our group. In years past, I never had a care in the world and finished with energy to spare to enjoy post-ride beers. However, this time I labored, exhausted by the end of the trip....I still enjoyed my post-ride beers, though! Must be my age catching up to me, I thought.
A few weeks later, I had a scheduled elective surgical procedure performed. A pre-surgery blood test was taken. The surgery was uneventful and successful. But I received startling news.....
The blood test revealed that I had leukemia coursing through my being; not just leukemia, but stage 4 leukemia! Not just stage 4 leukemia - but the pernicious acute myeloid leukemia (AML).
At that moment, the diagnosis felt I was just swatted by a man beating a carpet! (apologies to noted sportswriter, Jim Murray)
Can I get a let……..PLEASE?
Initially, my oncologist Dr. Oleg Krijanovski, offered me hope; enough hope that I believed that my stay in the hospital would be short-lived.
My gosh, was I wrong.
(I didn't learn until much later that the 5-year survival rate for people 20 and older with AML is 27%. For people younger than 20, the survival rate is 69%. However, survival depends on several factors, including biologic features of the disease and, in particular, a patient's age. At the time I was 60 when I was stricken.)
If I hadn't had the scheduled surgery, my condition would have been left undiagnosed and dire. I would have never known that I was stricken and would have become burnt toast! Squashed! Who knew?! After all, I just accomplished a glorious trip around Lake Tahoe. I couldn’t even imagine that anyone with stage 4 cancer would be able to bike 70 miles - let alone 70 miles high in the Sierras! But I had.
I was diagnosed that afternoon and immediately afterwards that evening was whisked away to Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley. Now dressed in a hospital gown, there was no time to waste. I now had tubes stuck into my arm receiving chemotherapy.
Game on!!!!!
But, it wasn’t a game that started at 0-0.
I was already down 0-2, set 3, when I began this match.
As fellow competitors, we all know that before playing a match, we need to prepare by sizing up the opponent and anticipate how the match is going to unfold. But not this time. How this was going to play out would be anyone’s guess. How can one’s life be reduced to a coin-toss!
Months of isolation, more transfusions, more sessions of chemotherapy, interrupted sleep, and a gradual withering away became my fate. With each session of chemotherapy, there was hope that the acute myeloid leukemia would abate. After weeks of recovery, the damned ACL returned. For a few months my reality was "chemo, wait patiently, repeat". My hopes were being dashed…. I was being dragged through this muddy slop called cancer. It was apparent that that this cycle would continue ad infinitum and would be unsustainable. My oncologist decided that a bone marrow transplant was warranted.
The momentum against this formidable opponent was unlike any match that I encountered. But I took the wisdom that the esteemed Harvard coach and sage, Jack Barnaby, gave me a few years back after a I took a loss in the finals of the Cowles, Jacobs, Barnaby Invitational held at the Harvard Club of NY.
After the long plane ride home, I took the time and wrote to Jack. thanking him for the invitation to a wonderful weekend of competition and camaraderie. A few weeks later, I was delighted to receive a hand-written reply from Jack himself.
Jack wrote......your opponent beat you because, although not as good a player as you, he is a better match player. You dominated the match, being well ahead in four of the five games. But you let up every time you had a lead. I don't mean you didn't try. I mean you tried to make quick aces, to win easy, instead of continuing to grind it out in the manner that had built the lead.
Best wishes and good luck.
Jack
I hear you, Jack! A valuable lesson that applies to life and not just squash!
Also, given my mixed ethnicity, getting a compatible donor match came into question. The chance of rejection boded high. The prospect of facing a life of ingesting daily cocktails of anti-rejection meds was looming.
After months of a world-wide search, a donor was found. Not the best match, but I was left with no other choice; my metabolism could no longer keep receiving blood transfusions and chemotherapy. A decision was made by my care team to proceed, despite the odds, with a bone marrow transplant.
Upon the plasma's arrival one evening from across the country, the transfusion began. Lasting only a few hours, my A+ blood type was replaced with B+, and get this, with the genome of a female! (I joke with people that if ever I committed a crime and my blood was left at the scene, I was never going to be a suspect!)
A waiting game ensued. I asked the presiding referee of fate for a match-injury time-out. My friends and family in the gallery gave me needed support. I had a needed cheering section: a group that was helpful rather than saying that they would be of help: a crucial distinction.
Weeks went by. Tests showed no rejection.....getting stronger.
I’ll spare you the details.
Weeks became months. Still no symptoms of rejection. At long last, I was discharged.
At home, the recovery was agonizingly slow - but after months, I thankfully was back on my bike again and was able to return to the UClub to resume my position and responsibilities as the club pro. (Thanks to Busani Xaba for being there during my absence.) I was told that if the symptoms subsided for a period of 5 years, it would an indication that the cancer was likely in remission giving me a clean bill of health.
So I managed to crawl out of this hole; soon to be back on my way……until I fell into an unforeseen chasm.
2018 - another close encounter from the Grim Reaper.
After a day at the Club, I had dinner and watched a bit of TV before retiring. My wife and I were sleeping soundly but during the middle of the night, Evy was abruptly awoken by my convulsions and hearing me babbling incoherently.
I was experiencing what appeared to be a seizure! But it wasn’t just a seizure. I had suffered a stroke! The court door was slamming on me for the second time!
911. An ambulance was immediately dispatched.
I fell into a coma and did not re-emerge back into the living world until a month later - a reality known to me only from the stories that were told by my family. During this period, I was transferred to a number of different hospitals.
I have absolutely no memory of this period of my life - not even sketchy ones: sort of like the selective memory of us competitors; who only seem to remember vividly the wins and not the murky losses.
Once again, I had tripped and fell into an unforeseen hole - a rabbit hole much deeper than I realized. Who knew? So much for the glide pattern I was expecting in my golden years.
More bouts of isolation. More endless days and nights of tedium. It was becoming a Sisyphean battle.
I was playing another match starting down 0-2. But girded by my years of playing squash, and being down 0-2 in more than my share of matches, I rebounded to prevail. I hadn’t surrendered. It was time once again to show resolve and grit! It was again time to regroup and dig deep - just like playing a squash match. No way was I going to back down!
It's been a long road to recovery from these series of setbacks that had been years in the making. I had to learn how to hit a "rail" again. But I did. (walking two miles a day with the aid of a walker is now my routine). Entertaining the thought of attempting a "double boast" is a bit out of the question, but I'm now walking without the aid of the walker for short stretches of time.
(Presently, I’ve resumed cycling in spite of my compromised vestibular system. - JL 3/22)
Months of persistent dizziness was resolved by having a shunt placed just below the top of my skull draining excessive brain fluid into my stomach via a catheter.
One hard realization to accept from this ordeal is not having further opportunities to indulge my passion of enjoying the geometric beauty of the game; doubles particularly. It's a difficult situation, to say the least, of not having this once mainstay in my life that was my passion for over 40 years. As it stands now, there is no class of play for the disabled.
Nevertheless, I'm building community once again, seeking out and belonging to a number of support groups. I frequent the University Club whenever I can. Who knows if I’ll be able to get on the court again? I managed to come this far. Why not entertain the possibility? I have developed the patience and fortitude to allow the stars to re-align themselves again. And through it all, I’m discovering another version of myself and my voice again.
In the game of squash, I was a local kid who “made good" and became a 3 time Veteran’s National Champion. The game has treated me more generously than I never would have imagined.
In this impermanent game called life, let's see how much I still have left. Like an all-conquering squasher, I’ll never throw in the towel and shall reshuffle the deck to show my mettle. It’s time to reconnect with those around me and continue the quest of myself.
I’ll manage to create a happy ending to my life.
I’m still John Lau
John
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John: I had not read your blog or post before, nor did I know that you were dealing w Stage 4 AML, the disease that took down three of my
ReplyDeleteclosest friends - Jim Stack, Bill Kimpton and Perry Hall. I knew of
your stroke and thought your issue was muscular not blood related. Maybe it’s both. As you know I am
dealing with Stage 4 melanoma which returned after 23 years in a tumor in my lung. I have written parts of my battle which does not compare to yours. But reading your
story gives me added strength and confidence that I will win this fight and go out in another manner. You
have been inspirational to me for a
long time. I will get over there to talk
this out shortly!
Meanwhile I love Jack B’s candid
remarks. He was my brother’s (H
Squash Capt) coach. Thanks
Ted 💪😁