The face of cancer

In an interview on National Public Radio today, film critic Roger Ebert discusses his decision to write openly about the multiple cancer surgeries that left him unable to speak.


Communicating through a computer program that turns his typed words into speech, Ebert told interviewer Melissa Block that his approach differs from the way his old sparring partner, Gene Siskel, dealt with the brain tumor that took his life in 1999.


"He was intensely private about the situation," Ebert told Block. "I respect it. I think perhaps it influenced me to be very open about my own illness."


The 69-year-old Ebert did the interview in connection with his new memoir, "Life Itself." He had salivary gland cancer, thyroid cancer and cancer of the jawbone, and after reconstructive surgeries failed, he was left with no lower jaw. Unable to eat or drink, he is fed through a tube; he breathes through a tracheotomy, which took away his speech.


His situation is extreme in many ways, but his forthrightness presents an opportunity for patient/survivors  in general to examine their feelings about being open and their fears that if they are, they might regret it.


Ebert is a prolific movie critic and blogger; he calls his blog "a venue for my truths," and one of those truths, Block says, was posting a photo of his disfigured face.


"I was advised not to be photographed looking like this," he tells her. "Well, it's how I look. And there's nothing I can do about it. We spend too much time as a society denying illness. It's a fact of life."


Ebert has been through hell, but in addition to talent, bravery, and resilience, he has an advantage: His fame gave him a "pass go" card to pursue his profession with less fear of stigma than ordinary people. 


September brings with it the hope for new beginnings (think freshly-sharpened pencils, blank notebooks and back-to-school clothes for everyone and, for Jews, the upcoming High Holy Days of reflection and repentance beginning with the new year, Rosh Hashanah). For those fortunate enough to be back on their feet, it is an especially interesting time to reflect on  the question of how up-front to be and how it affects decision-making in the coming year.


I've been thinking of this myself as I ponder the question of where I go from here. I spent the last "school year" regaining my strength and finding freelance work to update my clips and polish my interviewing, researching and writing skills.


I feel great. After a characteristically intense dose of rumination compounded by fear of getting back out there again, I decided to apply for select full-time jobs (one in particular really appeals to me) and to continue trying to get more freelance jobs (I have some ideas and also possibilities that seem likely to turn over in the near future).


There is plenty of thinking to be done. In the meantime, of course, I have to keep up with my tennis game.

As the ball bounces

"I still like the feeling of the ball off my strings.

I just don't like the feeling of my body on the pavement."

I woke up the other day to an interview on NPR.

Through a haze, I heard the interviewer ask his guest whether he still plays tennis. Answer: His wife occasionally talks him into going out and hitting the ball.

"So you have Steffi Graff for a sparring partner," the interviewer, Steve Inskeep, said.

Oh, it's Andre Aggassi, I realized, waking up a little more. The next thing Agassi said made me laugh (and actually got me out of bed).

It's the quote above, which I'll repeat, because I like it and identify with it so much:

"I still like the feeling of the ball off my strings. I just don't like the feeling of my body on the pavement."

Inskeep was interviewing the tennis star and two-time U.S. Open Champion in connection with the Open, which is taking place now. Agassi, who retired in 2006, was there signing the newly-released paperback edition of his autobiography, "Open."

Having recently been very fall-prone, I so identified with that quote. Even before my most recent spate of balance problems and resulting falls, I'd fallen on the court because I couldn't keep away even though I probably shouldn't have been hitting.

My most "famous" one occurred a few days before I was due to return to the hospital for another round of chemotherapy during my first bout with leukemia. I had been back home gaining strength, and the day before re-admission, I played doubles.

I was aware of the Hickman tucked into my sports bra, so I tried hard not to do anything stupid that might cause me to fall and somehow damage the catheter. One of my opponents (no naming names, and it wasn't his fault) hit a shot just out of my reach, and I lunged for it...and felt myself beginning to fall. I fought the fall (never do that...gotta roll with it) and fell hard on my shoulder.

It hurt like hell. They got me ice and took me to the hospital, where a commotion ensued around me because I wore a mask and gloves and was bald and probably didn't look so great. It turned out I had no broken bones, but my shoulder was separated. They gave me a sling and said it would heal.

Once I was admitted to Brigham and Women's, my doctor shook his head at me. As it turned out, my shoulder hurt more than anything they did to me. For a permanent reminder, a piece of bone juts out from my right shoulder. I can move to make it come and go, which I have sometimes done to make Katie squeal. (Mean Mom.)

In any case, I love that quote from Agassi.

I sure hate the feeling of my body on the pavement.

And it sure feels great to feel the ball off my strings.