About a week before Christmas, Joe Ledell learned of a cancerous tumor in his right sinus. He and his wife Sharon had to decide quickly if they were ready to tell their children and grandchildren — they were all planning to come over to celebrate the holiday the very next day.
“We didn’t know if we wanted to face the kids, especially the grandkids,” Sharon said. “But we told them, ‘We need you here.’ And it was good. They gave us support, we gave them support.”
“We didn’t know if we wanted to face the kids, especially the grandkids,” Sharon said. “But we told them, ‘We need you here.’ And it was good. They gave us support, we gave them support.”
On Christmas Eve, Joe began the first of four rounds of chemotherapy. He was diagnosed with a rare cancer called small cell neuroendocrine carcinoma. It is often aggressive and malignant, and it had spread into the front part of Joe’s brain.
“First we thought we were going to have surgery,” Joe said, “but they’re thinking they can shrink the thing down so we don’t have to do surgery, which would be nice. I don’t want my head cut open.”
To combat the aggressiveness of the tumor, Joe’s doctors recommended aggressive treatment. They told him that a fast-growing tumor also shrinks fast. After four rounds of chemotherapy, Joe has begun radiation therapy. For a total of seven weeks he’ll be in and out of the hospital. During that time he’ll undergo 35 radiation treatments.
Ledell used a wagon wheel to describe the process of radiation. He compared the tumor in his nose to the center of a wheel. The spokes are similar to the different paths that the accelerated electron particles take during his treatments to reach and shrink the tumor.
“They put you on this machine, strap you down, put a mask on your face so you can’t move, then they zap that tumor from different angles. You hear when they turn the radiation on — you hear that “zzz.” You can feel some kind of tickling in your nose. About halfway through I guess you start getting pretty good burns through your face,” Joe said.
At one point Joe wondered aloud why he was diagnosed with this rare form of cancer. It was the only time he expressed remorse for his situation. Instead, most of the time he seemed that he'd accepted it while exuding a quiet optimism.
“The doctor said we’re making pretty good progress with the chemo and radiation,” he said. “He’s hopeful for a cure and I am too.”
Sharon said she’s taking everything one day at a time. When the doctors ruled out surgery, she was relieved like Joe, but she also understood that it made the success of the chemo and radiation treatments that much more vital.
“I haven’t faced beyond the seven weeks,” she said. “There’s no surgery afterwards, so I guess if these two things don’t kill it then it’s not going to be killed.”
Meanwhile, Joe has thought about what it would mean should the tumor remain after the last of his radiation treatments end.
“I’m not scared to die, but the worst part is leaving the grandkids,” Joe said. “They come and look at me like, ‘What’s wrong with grandpa?’ ... Kind of brings you back to reality. When things are good you’re going full blast, and you don’t have time to think as much.”
Sharon said they’re about halfway through all possible treatment. By March, she and Joe will know if the tumor is gone. Recently, the doctors gave them reason for optimism.
“It was up in his brain, and now it’s not," Sharon said. "The chemo has brought that down. When it responds like that, radiation responds that much better.”
Throughout his battle, Joe’s family, and specifically his grown children, has made every effort to be with him. His daughter and one of two of his sons have been to every one of his appointments. They console him, look up medical terms on Google as doctors say them, and hope for a recovery while likely trying to rationalize the alternative.
“It’s been a whole family week — well month now,” Joe said. “If you’re in a place where there’s nothing to do, and you’re depressed, the will to live is not there. If you’re with your family, there’s always an interest.”
A version of this story appeared in the Stories of Hope section on Cancer.org.