Stem Cells Cancer & Me

In the small community of Erwin, which is east of Raleigh-Durham in North Carolina, my wife Marian and I found our retirement home away from the cold and snow of New England winters and short summers. It was October 1998, just before Halloween, when we were met by our family and greeted by the neighbors as we slowly moved into our new home. With a wonderful family nearby and great neighbors, the next three years passed all too quickly.

My early retirement due to problems with my knees went unnoticed, as I had become involved with the local literacy association and began teaching adults to read and write. Aside from teaching and the daily activities of retirement, I was also a member of the American Legion and VFW. My son John and I were working on remodeling his bathroom and building a garage/workshop. In the summer of 2001, I was nominated and accepted as commander of VFW Post 6767 in Dunn, NC. Life was wonderful, and the days and weeks that passed were busy and happy.

Suddenly it was October 26, 2001, and as the days continued to stay warm and the nights brought on a chill to mark the impending short winter season in the South, all seemed perfect except for a head cold that not only persisted, but also had no desire to dissipate from my being. This was my second trip to the doctor, having completed my previous prescriptions of antibiotics and other medication.

Antibiotics were again prescribed, along with nasal sprays. Dr. Lopez at this point was concerned about the cold lasting as long as it had without any indication of relief. I was sent to the local hospital for blood and urine tests in an effort to narrow in on the persistent problem.

November rolled in with a full plate, my sister Helen arriving for a visit on the ninth, a Veterans Day celebration on the eleventh that I was part of as VFW post commander, and the Governors Volunteers award for outstanding state volunteers banquet on the fifteenth in Fayetteville, NC. I was fortunate to be honored on that day by receiving the governor’s award for over two hundred volunteer hours spent teaching adults to read and write for the Harnett County Literacy Association.

In front of the hundreds who were in attendance, I accepted the award with pride, accompanied by my wife, Marian, and sister, Helen. November 15 was a happy and rewarding day, but it would prove to be the last happy day for a long, long time.

The flag in my yard was still at half mast, as was requested on Veterans Day; it was November 16—the day after one of the most pride-filled days of my life. I had a morning appointment with my doctor to go over the findings of my tests. The cold was still in my system, and following use of all my medications, no change was evident.

With my sister still visiting and leaving the next day, my wife stayed home as I went to my nine o’clock appointment by myself. On all of our appointments with doctors, my wife would accompany me or I would accompany her. It was ironic not having her at my side.

I sat patiently in the waiting room along with many of the doctor’s other daily patients. The wait was no more unusual than at any other time, with patients being called one by one depending on appointments, and of course, the usual extended check ups that made the wait a little longer.

The door opened to the exam rooms and the doctor’s nurse read the name on the chart she held in her hand. “Mr. McNamara!” I rose from my chair and proceeded toward the door, still unaware of what would take place within the next fifteen minutes. Joking with the nurse as she took my blood pressure and temperature, I was calm and relaxed as I looked at this visit like any other—a visit, report, medication scripts, and on my way.