Chapter 29
Al was a hard working marine owner and like most marine operators, Al’s busiest time was during the summer months. I visited Al every Wednesday for the last decade during the summer months on my marine route. Ironically, within a year of my diagnosis, Al was also diagnosed with the exact same rectal cancer as I was.
Our cancers were almost identical in tumour size and location, no visible nodes affected and no metastasis. Like me doctors wanted Al to have the neoadjuvant chemo and radiation for five weeks. Al faithfully went through all his treatments back in the summer of 2014. It was during this same period of time that I had returned back to work before my reversal surgery.
I still had my bag.
We chatted every week, Al would tell me how his treatments were progressing. It was visibly taking a lot out of him with each passing week. I would try to describe as best I could, what Al had to look forward to, always putting a positive spin on his prognosis.
By the end of the summer, Al had completed all his treatments and his cancer had not progressed, but it also hadn’t regressed either. I was surprised that Al was thinking of forgoing surgery and opting for a wait and see approach towards any further treatments. Al had flat out told me many times, he would never have a bag. He said that he would never be able to cope living with a shit bag.
His doctors had already assured him that the bag would definitely be in his future after surgery. Like me, doctors would only know after surgery if the bag was temporary or permanent.
Al was having absolutely no bag, whether it was temporary or permanent. I just assumed he was being stubborn. As the season wound down that summer, Al was still adamant. No surgery, therefore no bag.
Our cancers were almost identical in tumour size and location, no visible nodes affected and no metastasis. Like me doctors wanted Al to have the neoadjuvant chemo and radiation for five weeks. Al faithfully went through all his treatments back in the summer of 2014. It was during this same period of time that I had returned back to work before my reversal surgery.
I still had my bag.
We chatted every week, Al would tell me how his treatments were progressing. It was visibly taking a lot out of him with each passing week. I would try to describe as best I could, what Al had to look forward to, always putting a positive spin on his prognosis.
By the end of the summer, Al had completed all his treatments and his cancer had not progressed, but it also hadn’t regressed either. I was surprised that Al was thinking of forgoing surgery and opting for a wait and see approach towards any further treatments. Al had flat out told me many times, he would never have a bag. He said that he would never be able to cope living with a shit bag.
His doctors had already assured him that the bag would definitely be in his future after surgery. Like me, doctors would only know after surgery if the bag was temporary or permanent.
Al was having absolutely no bag, whether it was temporary or permanent. I just assumed he was being stubborn. As the season wound down that summer, Al was still adamant. No surgery, therefore no bag.
I figured that by the following spring when my weekly visits started up again, Al would’ve had his surgery. And like me he would be coping with having a bag. I wished him the best of luck for the upcoming hockey season, which Al had no intentions of sitting out.
Like me, Al loved his weekly hockey games with his buddies.
When I returned in the spring of 2015, Al had still not had surgery. His cancer had not progressed, he was quite happy that he had made the right decision by not having surgery. Doctors continued to monitor him very closely. Al had attributed his remission to the breaking of his three cans a day Pepsi habit. He had read that sugary drinks fed cancer cells causing cancer to spread.
Are you fuck’n serious Al?
Al’s wife was so upset with his decisions which seemed to always refute his doctor’s advice. By mid-summer, during one of Al’s monthly checkups and CT scans, a spot was discovered on his lung. After further investigation, it was determined that Al’s rectal cancer had now metastasized to his lung.
Al was now a stage IV rectal cancer patient.
Still, all was not lost. Doctors assured Al that the single spot could be taken care of quickly while it was still small, but he needed to have surgery ASAP.
Like me, Al loved his weekly hockey games with his buddies.
When I returned in the spring of 2015, Al had still not had surgery. His cancer had not progressed, he was quite happy that he had made the right decision by not having surgery. Doctors continued to monitor him very closely. Al had attributed his remission to the breaking of his three cans a day Pepsi habit. He had read that sugary drinks fed cancer cells causing cancer to spread.
Are you fuck’n serious Al?
Al’s wife was so upset with his decisions which seemed to always refute his doctor’s advice. By mid-summer, during one of Al’s monthly checkups and CT scans, a spot was discovered on his lung. After further investigation, it was determined that Al’s rectal cancer had now metastasized to his lung.
Al was now a stage IV rectal cancer patient.
Still, all was not lost. Doctors assured Al that the single spot could be taken care of quickly while it was still small, but he needed to have surgery ASAP.
Still, Al refused.
“How will I be able to work on boats with a bag?” he asked me.
“You need to have the surgery Al. You'll have to hire someone to work on the boats.” I replied.
I could not believe how this seemingly smart man was being so stupid. Al was in his late fifties, crawling under and all over boats was a young man’s game.
“Do you want more lung spots that will just keep getting bigger and then it will be too late?" I asked him.
“How will I be able to work on boats with a bag?” he asked me.
“You need to have the surgery Al. You'll have to hire someone to work on the boats.” I replied.
I could not believe how this seemingly smart man was being so stupid. Al was in his late fifties, crawling under and all over boats was a young man’s game.
“Do you want more lung spots that will just keep getting bigger and then it will be too late?" I asked him.
"You will never be cured. There will only be the chemo for life option just to keep you alive and that’s if you're lucky.” I added.
I was getting so annoyed with Al. After a few more weeks, it was obvious that Al was not budging on his decision.
On my final visit that summer, I was finally fed up with his constant promotion of the natural supplements he was buying off the internet. He actually believed they would eventually cure him of his stage IV cancer.
“Al you have two choices, it’s either going to be a bag or a box.” I told him.
The 2016 marine season saw Al’s marina closed and it was up for sale. It was now vacant and I did not stop in once the whole season. I tried to inquire a couple times, asking other nearby marinas how Al was doing. Nobody knew anything. He had just disappeared and put the marina up for sale. I left email messages and tried calling his phone number.
There was no response, nothing.
Eventually, that old saying 'out of sight out of mind' held true and I forgot all about Al. Then just before the 2017 season and for whatever reason, I was determined to find out how Al was coping. I tracked his oldest son Rob down on Facebook and I sent him a message inquiring how his dad was doing.
A week later, I got a reply.
I was getting so annoyed with Al. After a few more weeks, it was obvious that Al was not budging on his decision.
On my final visit that summer, I was finally fed up with his constant promotion of the natural supplements he was buying off the internet. He actually believed they would eventually cure him of his stage IV cancer.
“Al you have two choices, it’s either going to be a bag or a box.” I told him.
The 2016 marine season saw Al’s marina closed and it was up for sale. It was now vacant and I did not stop in once the whole season. I tried to inquire a couple times, asking other nearby marinas how Al was doing. Nobody knew anything. He had just disappeared and put the marina up for sale. I left email messages and tried calling his phone number.
There was no response, nothing.
Eventually, that old saying 'out of sight out of mind' held true and I forgot all about Al. Then just before the 2017 season and for whatever reason, I was determined to find out how Al was coping. I tracked his oldest son Rob down on Facebook and I sent him a message inquiring how his dad was doing.
A week later, I got a reply.
Al had to close the marina in 2016 when his health rapidly deteriorated. As the summer progressed, Al was bedridden and in a great deal of pain. On October 31st, Al passed away with his family by his side.
I was shocked, but I was not surprised.
I was shocked, but I was not surprised.
Al was a very stubborn man and his stubbornness cost him his life. Rob told me that his mother could not even influence Al to change his mind and have the surgery, when there still was a chance.
I was living proof, every week when I saw Al that you could cope with a bag. Sure, you might not be able to crawl all over and under fixing boats. But in the big picture, was your business more important than your life?
I thought it was rather ironic. I was diagnosed on Halloween 2013, three years later Al passed away on Halloween 2016.
Al did in fact make his choice, he chose a box over a bag.
RIP Al.
I was living proof, every week when I saw Al that you could cope with a bag. Sure, you might not be able to crawl all over and under fixing boats. But in the big picture, was your business more important than your life?
I thought it was rather ironic. I was diagnosed on Halloween 2013, three years later Al passed away on Halloween 2016.
Al did in fact make his choice, he chose a box over a bag.
RIP Al.