Many may not recognize this face, but I assure you that he was quite popular. In his world of sports entertainment (also known as Pro Wrestling), he was recognized by several names, but most popularly, and recently, Bray Wyatt. It was announced Thursday, that he had died unexpectedly at the age of a too-young 36.
I will admit that it has been quite some time since I have followed any professional wrestling. And headlines over the years, it was not uncommon to hear of wrestling superstars that I did know passing at a young age, though at least making it into their late 40’s. Of course, there have been the tragedies and accidents.
But it was upon learning Wyatt’s real name, that all of a sudden I took interest into his story. Wyatt is of pro wrestling legacy, a third generation pro wrestler, which means, from the days that I did watch pro wrestling. Born Windham Rotundo, Wyatt was the son of Mike Rotundo who wrestled under several different personas, and was the nephew of Barry Windham. His grandfather was the monstrous sized Black Jack Mulligan. I saw many of their matches growing up. Wyatt had many different characters as well, and at one time, integrating some together as a multiple personality as another wrestler, Mick Foley does. Wyatt would change from a good guy, to a heel named “the Fiend,” who clearly was a dark character.
He was a very popular and successful wrestler, winning several titles, earning the wide respect among those in the business. Though an active wrestler for more than a decade, he had been absent for a lengthy amount of time and had been planning to return. He had been battling Covid and its awful side effects. But before he could do that, he suffered a tragic, fatal heart attack, at the age of 36. Heart attacks as it is are not uncommon for pro wrestlers, but the age this occurred was just devastating for so many. In fact, Wyatt recently relayed a story of his uncle, Barry Windham, nearly dying from a massive heart attack.
Wyatt was engaged to JoJo Offerman, a ring announcer with the same company. The biggest sadness however, he had two young daughters, not even teenagers, now without a father.
As is common, his former pro wrestlers, many friends, pay tribute when one of their own falls, with the chiming of a ten “bell” ringing salute during a moment of silence. Many of his fellow wrestlers now, are being seen in videos of interviews on their thoughts of Wyatt’s passing. Several of those involved yet today, wrestled his father and uncle. And while they spoke of his iconic abilities and fantastic career, some unable to hold back their tears, they all mention the biggest loss, is to Wyatt’s two young daughters, now without a father.
For the first time, I could relate to this young wrestler that I had never watched, now wishing that I had. With the various health issues I face, the one thing I never wanted to do, was break the hearts of my two daughters, who have now entered adulthood. While they both had friends who tragically lost a parent, I never wanted my daughters to experience that loss. No matter what I faced, or continue to face, they are my driving force to live.
Wyatt’s passing is indeed tragic, as are the circumstances behind it. And though there are hurtful rumors and unhinged accusations spreading around the internet, they are untrue. Wyatt had Covid earlier in the year, ended up struggling with the complications, which as well known, may have had an impact on his lungs and heart, eventually leading to this tragic end.
I hate getting attached to a television series. I always want them to go on and on. Only the Simpsons seem to have gone on forever. A Million Little Things was one of the rare series that I could actually relate to with many of the story lines. But as I binged the final season recently, the show connected to me a lot closer, a lot more personal than I had expected. It brought up feelings that I had not dealt with in over nine years.
The story line will do nothing for those around me as far as offering any insights. For me, it allowed me to see that what happened was the right thing, exactly what was wished.
The character, Gary, was dying of cancer. Treatments were no longer working. All around him, including his wife, were pushing for unproven alternatives, available only out of the country. Gary’s wife had talked him into travelling for that treatment, insisting that he not give up, just as he pushed her not to give up as she faced her own battle with cancer earlier in the series. There was one difference in Gary’s case. His cancer was so far advanced, the likelihood of this alternative treatment working was slim at best, if at all. And if it did not work, then the last moments that Gary would have, with his wife, and his friends, would never take place.
Gary and his wife, were at the airport with the whole crew of friends there to see them off. Dramatic pause, Gary and his wife change their minds, and decide to take Gary back home, where he will spend his final days, surrounded by those he loved and loved him.
I know this feeling all too well. I was in that similar situation, although not on television.
As my late Father’s lung cancer progressed, rapidly, my position as medical proxy soon came into play. Along with my step-brother, who was handling my Father’s legal affairs, decisions needed to be made, as it was discovered that my Father’s cancer had turned terminal, and was progressing rapidly. There was much to prepare for, most importantly to my Dad, was care of my step-mother. He was her caregiver (as a result of an accident decades earlier), and now, both were going to need round the clock care, at different levels. They had never been separate from each other in their forty plus years. And we were determined not to allow that to happen. Again, difficult decisions needed to be made, based on what my Dad wanted.
Long story short, we were able to arrange for my parents to be together, for the end. Decisions were made to put them in the same health care facility. And being in hospice, meant there would be changes with my Father’s preventative care, maintenance medicines for things like cholesterol would be discontinued. Also, in the event of illnesses, curative care would not be given, which was difficult for many family members to understand. But it was simple, my Father was going to die. Why would you want his suffering elongated? These were policy and procedure issues, beyond my control, but I accepted them. I was willing to take the heat and frustrations from anyone who did not understand. I was honoring my Dad’s wishes in his final care.
It was a last ditch effort that I was approached with, that rang similar to the final episode of A Million Little Things. There were family members behind my back, pursuing other possible treatments. One had found a clinical trial, for a drug to treat the most dire of lung cancers. Ironically, I was familiar with this trial, as I worked for the pharmaceutical company that was researching it. And I was familiar with the requirements, which my father had no chance of qualifying for. Forget the fact he had only limited time to live, his body had gone through so much trauma with a lobectomy for the lung cancer, but prior had a major heart attack. But once conversations started carrying, all efforts were directed at me to “fight” for my Dad. Again, I knew this issue was all procedural and was not worthy of wasting my time, but I let anyone and everyone say what they wanted, even if to my detriment.
At this point, just as in the TV episode, all anyone was doing at this point, was losing precious final moments with my Father, including me. Frustrations rose so high between me and other family members who felt I gave up on my Father, rather than accepting his fate, and honoring his wishes. Things have been said that cannot be taken back. And final moments were forever lost, scratch that, taken from me by not allowing my Father to have the peace that he wanted.
In the end, I did for my Father as he wished, as painful as it was for me. I no longer care what anyone else thought at the time.
Wow! When I thought of this post, and trying to come up with the title, I never realized how literal it was going to be. Yet, here I am. More than 15 years since my emergency life-saving bypass surgery, four years since my second heart surgery, and approaching my second anniversary of my valve aortic replacement, my actual heart is in fact still going strong. But what I was originally referencing, was my blog, “Paul’s Heart”, which although WordPress I think has a glitch, I do know I started writing here more than ten years ago, but the calendar on the blog only goes back to January of 2013. “Paul’s Heart” was always about advocacy and support for cancer patients, survivors, and eventually adoption, and single parenting. But the start came many years before that.
I had heard about a program called “Cansurmount,” operated through the American Cancer Society. As I reached the end of my chemotherapy treatments in the Spring of 1990, and had been declared in remission, I was filled with a need to give back. And “Cansurmount” I felt would be an excellent opportunity to do so. The program trained cancer survivors and/or family members to provide one on one, peer to peer, cancer like-specific support and information to patients and their relatives. In other words, as in my case, Hodgkin’s survivor to Hodgkin’s patient. The belief was, what better connection could be provided than someone who has gone through the exact type of cancer to support someone else.
The program itself, actually originated beyond the American Cancer Society at Denver Presbyterian Medical Center in 1973 and adopted by the ACS in 1978. It came to Pennsylvania in 1981, and my particular area in 1986. With enough trained “visitors”, the hopes of the program were to match like-cancer with like-cancer. Referrals for a Cansurmount visitor supposedly could be made by anyone from doctor to family member, but generally only came from the doctor or oncology office.
To qualify, a visitor needed to be at least 16 years of age, have had cancer, and be at least one year having completed treatment. There was a six week training course to complete, and a whole bunch of other rules associated with the ACS to follow. Then came the tough part, knowing the difference between being a “friend” with a patient, and being a “visitor.” Some trainees had attended the training with the idea of helping cancer patients, but instead found themselves needing help themselves to work through their own issues, definitely not able to reach out to help anyone else.
As a Cansurmount visitor, we were there to provide medical information, not give advice. Anything said between us was meant to remain confidential. Our opinions were kept to ourselves (i.e. “that doctor has a bad attitude”) and we never gave out medical advice. This is different than confirming concerns about side effects of treatments or perhaps seeking out a second opinion. As visitors, we had a variety of information to give patients. The most important thing, the patient knew we were legit in our support, because we had been there ourselves. If a patient asked what I would do, I would explain that it was not a matter of what I would do, but what was best for them. The thing about a cancer patient, is every patient is different, even if it is the same cancer. Each patient has their own physiology and reacts to the cancer and the treatments differently. The list of “Do’s” and “Don’t’s” was quite extensive.
The most valuable quality of a “visitor”, was the ability to listen. It was one thing for a patient to express themselves, but another to know they were heard and understood. One entire training class was on these “Active Listening Skills,” followed up with “Reflective Listening Skills.” Mastering both of these techniques was the only way for a patient to know and believe, they were being heard.
A quick way to cause communication issues was with negative remarks, accusations, assumptions, directives, and cliches such as the popular “you’ll be fine.” While no one ever wants to give up hope, we were never to give false hope either. Speaking as a cancer survivor myself, I will tell you some of the last things a cancer patient wants to hear:
“I know how you feel.”
” God never gives you more than you can handle.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way.”
“You’ve got to be strong.”
There are many more, and just as not helpful. I know that I have been told most if not all of them. I still get told things like “well, you don’t know that will happen,” or “you’re just being negative.”
We would spend many more weeks in training, learning medical terms, learning common issues among cancer patients, and the most difficult of all, dealing with terminal patients and communication with children about cancer. The remainder of the training concerned administrative things such as paperwork and such. And then, it was off into the field. My first referral could not have been any more difficult, a terminal young teenage girl, like me, having Hodgkin’s Disease. You can read the actual story I wrote about her, called “Jennifer’s Story.”
I continued in the Cansurmount program several years, after which the program just seemed to vanish. Even today, there really is no trace of its history searching through the American Cancer Society. I was told, referrals just were not being made because doctors were concerned about visitors giving out medical advice or visitors convincing patients to delay treatments. To my knowledge, this did not happen, at least I know not by me.
But then I discovered the internet and other resources to reach out to provide comfort and support. Two major web sites were email list serves. Then came Facebook. Facebook did what the list serves could not, put faces to the stories and conversations. There are so many different cancer and survivor pages on social media today, even subject specific with topics such as financial struggles or infertility and other cancer related issues.
This inspired me to begin my “Paul’s Heart” journey. Originally I was just testing the waters to see if I could actually gather all of my thoughts and put them into a book, so it only made sense to begin with a blog. Well, just like Elden the painter on the television show “Murphy Brown,” who never seemed to be near done painting Brown’s house, it has been twelve years since I started writing that book. And since, I have split that effort into three other books, also started. The problem for me was I did not know how to finish my first book. The subject is cancer survivorship. Was this problem intentional or subliminal? Would ending the book on my survivorship signal the end of the greater part, me? Nothing left to do?
I have been witness to many things over the last three decades. Diagnostics and treatments that I underwent, now considered obsolete. I am finally starting to see medicine realize that if you are going to “cure” a cancer survivor, survivors need care, forever, even if just for preventative concerns. And I am seeing better communication and information provided. In 1988, hardly anyone had even heard of Hodgkin’s Disease. Now called Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and created by survivors of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, an organization now exists, INTERNATIONALLY, to inform, educate, and support patients and survivors of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, called Hodgkin’s International.
I am in the homestretch of ending my first book. I now have a conclusion I can use, without my story ending. If not too much changes after that, perhaps I can just do a second edition, or if there is a lot to add, then that could mean another book. In the meantime, I am going to continue down the path I started over 30 years ago, one way or another, supporting other cancer patients and survivors.
American Cancer On-Line Resources
Internet support from peers, caregivers, survivors, and professionals in several hundred types of cancers and related issues
Paul's Heart 