Ken Billett – Writer

James Jeffrey – In Memoriam

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Uncle Jim

On Friday, December 20th, my family held a funeral service for my uncle, Jim Jeffrey.  Uncle Jim died last Sunday of complications brought on by a host of ailments, primarily the after-effects of chemotherapy and the further onset of Alzheimer’s.  Uncle Jim was a unique individual, and the obituary (below) from the funeral home doesn’t due justice to a man who fully embraced the ideal of “following your heart.”
Uncle Jim was married to my dad’s older sister, Barbara.  Both were talented musicians who lived for many years in the heart of New York City.  Jim fluently spoke several foreign languages, was an accomplished gourmet chef, and a handy-man who could fix or rebuild just about anything – electrical appliances, car engines, refurbed houses.  On top of that, he was an opera singer!  
There is a lot about my Uncle Jim that I will never know, or certainly won’t remember, but one clear memory of Jim was his singing of Ave Maria at our wedding.  Beautiful does not even come close to describing Jim’s performance.  Singing at the weddings of nieces and nephews, accompanied, of course, by Aunt Barbara on the organ, became a family tradition that Jim seemed to relish.
I copied the funeral home’s brief obituary (below), along with an early picture of Jim.  That picture is the memory of the man I want to remember.  The man who truly followed his heart.

James  E.  Jeffrey

March 29, 1932 – December 15, 2013

James E. Jeffrey

JEFFREY, James, 81, of Tampa, Florida passed away Sunday, December 15, 2013. He was born in Savannah, GA and moved to Tampa in his teens. James was a graduate of Hillsborough High School, and he received a Bachelor’s degree in modern foreign languages from the University of Tampa.  James was a United States Navy Veteran during the Korean War, serving on the USS Randolph. He went to the University of Miami on a teaching assistance ship, then moved to New York City in 1971 where he became a professional singer. James sang at Radio City Musical Hall in the chorus, performed with other small opera companies, and he sang in the Metropolitan Opera Company chorus for 19 years. He is preceded in death by his three sisters. James is survived by his wife of 57 years, Barbara; sister-in-law, Leanna Bailey and her husband, Tom; brother-in-law, Ken Billett, Sr. and his wife Glenda; nephew, John Sanford and his wife, Valarie, and many other nieces and nephews. A memorial service will be held at 10:00 am on Friday, December 20th at Loyless Funeral Home. Interment will follow at the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell, FL at 12:30 pm. The family will receive friends one hour prior to the service. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in James name to the Melech Hospice House.

The Song Remains the Same

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December 4th – After another eight (8) weeks of treatment, I had a CT scan this afternoon.  The results were good: the remaining tumors in my right lung are still very tiny, almost too small to recognize any discernible changes from the previous scan on October 9th.  My oncologist said that, for now, I will remain on Gleevec, and in a few months we’ll do another scan to see how I’m doing.
If the tumors remain in-place then it may be necessary for me to have a procedure – similar to my needle biopsy – to remove them.  But that is still well off into the immediate future.  There will be several consults and scans before any decision is made.
So, why am I not very excited by this news?  Why do I feel a sense of melancholy in a prognosis that is mostly positive?  Why did I feel as though there was more to learn from today’s analysis?  Was I hoping and praying – maybe naively – that my cancer would just “go away.”
Perhaps it was the other part of my doc’s discussion with Vicki and me.  The realization, once again, that I have a disease that may never completely go away.  Or it may lie dormant for years, then rear its ugly head when I least expect it.  He discussed the positives of the current drug: it’s keeping any additional tumors from creeping up in other areas of my body.  My cancer, however, may have other mutated versions that might not, or will not, respond to the current treatment.  Meaning we would start all over, again.  That was one of the negatives we discussed.
Too many unknowns…not a place I like to be in.  Yet, three months ago, I wanted to be able to live long enough to see my son, Zach, graduate from high school…to, perhaps, see both of my children graduate from college…Just another 10 years I asked God on more than one occasion.  All I wanted was some more time…something all of us – me especially – take for granted.  (And I still do!)  As I said, I should be happy, but I feel a bit melancholy, right now.
So, the song remains the same…maybe it will change with the new year.
Thanks for listening.
Hear my song.  People won’t you listen now?


November

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Aches and Pains

It’s the end of November, and it’s the same old story…overall, feeling fine physically and mentally, and, for the most part, enjoying my new job.  I continue to battle leg and foot cramps (and some pain), and, I believe, the early cold weather here in Memphis has contributed to my symptoms.  Other than my aches and pains, the month was not particularly telling in my continued journey with melanoma.  On the personal front, however, November brought a lot of new experiences and soon-to-be great memories.

– – –
Just not right….
We ended October and started November with a trip behind enemy lines – Knoxville, Tennessee.  We were there because Zach has a chance at a nice scholarship at UT, and one of the requirements is that he “shadow” a current student for a day.  I’ve never spent much time in Knoxville, and, as I posted on Facebook several weeks ago, I enjoyed walking around downtown Knoxville, which was quite neat and clean.  Yet, it was still Knoxville – home of the Vols and land of orange.  If Zach ends up there, I guess I’ll adapt.

– – – 

On November 17th, I got to spend part of the day with Scott Terle, who was in town visiting family.  Scott and I go all the way back to high school and, following my back surgery in 2011, I began to reconnect – via Facebook – with Scott and many others from back home.

It was great seeing Scott and spending the time rehashing old memories of King High School and Temple Terrace, Florida (where I grew up).  What I really enjoyed, however, was learning about Scott’s amazing (my word, not his) journey from young adulthood to middle age.  Scott has certainly had a full life – as I think many of us have had – with all the ups and downs that each of us deal with everyday.  Yet, Scott has an amazing (there’s that word, again) spirit that I wish I could bottle and give to others.  He has a great perspective on his world and the world around him along with a want to make a difference in ways that truly matter.  I’m probably embarrassing him right now, but it’s for a good cause.

As I said above, I wish I could bottle that energy or fortitude, or whatever you call it.  I could certainly use some of it, myself.  The journey continues to take a toll on my perspective, at times, so the busier and more focused I stay, the better my outlook.  It was time spent with Scott that helped lift me from my weekly doldrums and renew my perspective on my cancer.

Now if I can maintain that perspective through the holidays….

– – –

We ended November with Thanksgiving and the early arrival of winter.  Emily came home from college, and our family time was fun, but too short.  We even enjoyed a brief respite from the cold, which my guardian – Nixie – thoroughly loves!  She’s bred for cold, wet weather, and this time of year is her favorite.  Romping through the leaves, chasing squirrels, and simply being outside.  It’s also my favorite time of the year as well.

As the holidays approach, I try to keep my thoughts on my family.  I want to make certain that I enjoy our times together.  I anticipate many more years to come, but there will always be “those thoughts” in the back of my head.  So, I say a few prayers and continue moving forward.  What else is there to do?

Thanks, as always, for your time.

On guard and on duty…

Week Ten

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October 28, 2013   This is week ten of my treatment.  As you will see below, I have a couple of items to note about this week and the coming week.  Also, please note that I will begin posting every two or three weeks since my status has not changed significantly.
The biggest challenge for me lately has been leg and foot cramps – extreme in some instances.  Cramping and pain are an unfortunate side-effect of Gleevec. It’s a known side effect, and for some patients the cramping and pain can become so extreme that they have to stop taking the medicine.  My leg cramps – mainly in my calves – come and go, so I try to treat them as I would prior to cancer by stretching, staying hydrated, and increasing my potassium levels.  (In other words, eating lots and lots of bananas!)

– – –

Good Old Days

On October 24th, I attended a happy hour reunion with folks who worked for the old Holiday Corporation and Promus Companies (also known as Harrah’s Entertainment and Hilton Hotels).  I found out about the reunion through the online networking site, LinkedIn.  Over the summer, I had reconnected with dozens of former coworkers through this site.  It was interesting to learn what many of these folks were doing more than 10 years since I have seen them.

At the gathering on the 24th, I got a chance to see some of these folks in-person and share how our worlds have changed – and in some cases, stayed the same – over the years.  It was incredible to reminisce about our jobs and work experiences and feel as though we never left.  Some people appeared almost the same as I remember them, including a former executive secretary who saw me and said, “Mr. Ken, it’s so good to see you.”

These people, those companies, and those days were when I “cut my teeth” in the corporate world and learned – sometimes not quickly enough – what I cared about and what I wanted out of work.  There was a certain comfort level with these people…a certain understanding that we have all been together during a very unique time in our lives, and that all of us belonged, like players on a team, or members of a fraternity, or survivors of a horrific event.  There was – and still is – a special bond we have that others will never understand or feel.

For me it was also a unique evening because while I shared my new work (career?) path, I did not, however, talk at all about my cancer.  Prior to the 24th, I thought a lot about what I would say if people asked about me and my world.  I decided to see how the evening progressed, and, as it did, most of what we talked about centered around work, career, and family.  And that was just fine with me.  Outside of close friends, former high school classmates, fraternity brothers, and family I have not shared my story with many others.  Frankly, it will probably stay that way.

So young!  Yes, that is me!

The evening was fun, but, for me, ended on a rather bad note. While I was getting into my car, I had a massive leg cramp that caused my entire left leg to spasm.  Fortunately I was still parked, and the spasm stopped.  But it was scary and painful.  Once again, a reminder that my world will never be the same.

Week Nine

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This week (October 22nd) marks the ninth week of my treatment.  I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but there’s nothing new to report on the health front.  (Other than I need to stop eating so much junk food!)  I’m feeling pretty good and adjusting to my new job (see Working Man below), which is taking some getting used to – both mentally and physically.
– – –
Working Man
This week also is the second week of my return to the working world.  I wasn’t out of work for very long compared to many, many other people.  Still, there is something ingrained in my psyche about being employed.  Maybe it’s a man thing, maybe it’s a generational thing…but I think most people want to have a purpose in their lives, even if it’s an 8 to 5 job that pays the bills and keeps food on the table.  It’s funny for me, because that’s exactly why I got out of the proverbial corporate world and went into teaching.  I wanted to do something with a true purpose…make a difference in young lives.  All of those cliches that are  attached to teaching, but, as I found out the hard way, are very difficult to quantify on a daily basis.
I returned to the world of work with rather ironic timing.  I found out about my new position two days before my October 9th CT scan.  Needless to say, I was both excited and scared that one piece of good news would be ruined by the other circumstance (cancer) dominating my life.  When I got the great news about my scan, it was as if prayers on both fronts had been answered simultaneously.  If that doesn’t reinforce the necessity of belief, I don’t know what does.
I’m not sure the utter seriousness of my situation this past summer ever really sank in with me.  I don’t know if it was denial, naivete’, or plain craziness that prevented me from completely going off the deep-end regarding my world as it appeared to spin out-of-control.  It may make more sense to many of you now, knowing that I was also out of a job, why I considered my circumstances to be a difficult journey, not just a fight.  It was the only way to keep my own sanity.
And now I’m a working man….It has been quite a change to go from the classroom back to the business world.  Strangely enough, though, the transition has not been as difficult as I first imagined.  Perhaps that was my negative side filling my head with doom-and-gloom.  Perhaps it was my psyche still battered and bruised from ten years of teaching.  Either way, it’s good to have a purpose, even if the true measure of purpose is being there for those who truly matter – my family.  That’s what really matters, and, I believe that is why this go ’round with the corporate world will be different, very different.  This time, I don’t have to prove anything – to myself or to anyone else.  If I work from 8 to 5, then I’ve done my duty,  I’ve given my time and effort, and – truly – that’s all that should matter.
So, to borrow a couple of lines from Geddy Lee of Rush….I guess that’s what I am, a working man.
It seems to me
I could live my life
A lot better than I think I am
I guess that’s why they call me
They call me the working man

And so the journey continues….have a blessed day.

Well, they call me the working man
I guess that’s what I am

Still one of the greatest live bands of the 1970s.



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Ken Billett – Grumpy Bear Writing © 2021