Joseph M. hanneMan

t h e

journeyomeH

my FAther'S Story oF cAncer, FAith And liFe-chAnging mirAcleS

the journey home

MY FATHER'S SToRY oF cAncER, FAiTH And liFE-cHAnging MiRAclES

joseph m. hanneman

Mount Pleasant, Wisconsin2010

iv

PubliSHEd bY STRATEgiS onE llcwww.journeyhomestory.com

copyright © 2010 by Joseph M. Hanneman

All rights reserved. no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner or in any medium without written permission of the publisher.

Publisher’s cataloging-in-Publication data

Hanneman, Joseph M

The journey home : my father's story of cancer, faith and life-changing miracles / Joseph M. Hanneman. -- 1st ed. -- Mount Pleasant, Wis. : Strategis one, 2010.

p. ; cm.

iSbn: 978-1-449-91137-9inclues index.

1. Hanneman, david d.--death. 2. cancer--Patients--united States--biography. 3. death--Religious aspects--catholic church. 4. Terminally ill--Religious life. 5. Miracles. i. Title.

Rc265.6.H36 H36 2010 2009912719362.196/994630092--dc22 1002

cover and book design by Strategis one

Nihil Obstat: Most Rev. Imprimatur: Most Rev.

library of congress control number 2009912719

iSbn-13: 978-1-449-91137-9iSbn-10: 1-449-91137-4

PRinTEd in THE uniTEd STATES oF AMERicA

FiRST EdiTion

THE JOURNEY HOME

7

•

The OCTOBeR nighT had a FOReBOding

Chill. The fall wind blew ominously as i stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. as cyclones of yellow leaves swirled about the parking lot, i tried to process what had just happened. i fumbled for my cell phone and called home. Maybe the words would make sense after i spoke them to my wife, Sue. "dad's lung cancer is back. it does not look good." There, i said it. But it only increased the dread welling up inside. Standing outside the dean Clinic in Sun Prairie, Wis., i felt utterly helpless.

My mind raced back to when i was a child. i used to worry that dad would not come home from his weekly sales trips. it made me feel afraid. dad was the one to do the protecting and comforting back in those days. The rock of our family. now he faced a life-threatening diag-nosis of lung cancer. i could not fix this for him. i could not protect him. all i could seem to do is stand there in the dark, listen to the fall wind and say, "lord Jesus, please help us with what we're about to face."

A DAY LONG IN THE MAKING

Chapter i

8 THE JOURNEY HOME

We had been desperately trying to get dad in to see dr. gregory Motl since the prior week. dad was having great trouble breathing, and got winded even from walk-ing short distances. he was coughing a lot again, and the coughing was painful. We needed to find out if his lung infection from the previous year was back. Or if he had a tumor growing in his lungs. he underwent a CT scan a week ago. now we sat in the doctor's waiting room on October 30, 2006. We did not know it, but this would be a milestone day for the entire family. One of those events that radically change the direction of life. Things would never be the same again.

We waited in the examining room for maybe five min-utes, but it seemed like three days. Finally, we heard rus-tling in the hall, following by the click of the doorknob. dr. Motl wasted no time delivering the news. "dave, it's not good," he said, still walking across the room. he sat down on the round stool and looked dad in the eyes. "The cancer is back, and it looks like it has spread." Wham. This gut punch seemed to suck all of the air from the room. i waited for a scrap of hope from dr. Motl. Maybe a caveat, or a hopeful "but there's good news." But all i heard was a long, ugly silence.

dad shrugged his shoulders dejectedly and looked down at the floor. "Oh, well," he said, trying to be mat-ter of fact. But those two words did not come easily. he choked up. i put my arm around him and gave a squeeze. it was all i had. no solutions, wisdom or sage advice. damn. When dr. Motl left the room to arrange a con-

THE JOURNEY HOME 9A DAY LONG IN THE MAKING

sult with an oncologist, i recovered my bearings just a bit. "it's OK," i said, knowing it was not. "don't give up, dad. i'll be here for you every step of the way." he nodded his head, and tried to gather himself. "i should have known," he said, shaking his head wistfully. "i saw what cigarettes did to my Mom and dad. i should have known better." i told him that no one — no one — deserves to get cancer, no matter if they smoked for 60 years or not a day in their life. "You don't deserve this even for a minute," i said. "You are a great guy, dad. if there was any way for me to take this away from you, i would do it."

i went to the dean pharmacy and waited for dad's prescriptions. Some heavy-duty painkillers and an anti-anxiety medication. The pain medication was to help stem symptoms from the squamous cell carcinoma (tumor) in dad's lung. The other medication was supposed to help relax him and ease the sensation (caused by the tumor) that he couldn't catch his breath. Once i rejoined dad and dr. Motl in the examining room, we were told that an initial consultation with oncologist dr. Michael Frontiera was scheduled for Thursday — three long days away. "i'm getting you in to see the best," dr. Motl said. "as i said, they're developing new treatments all the time."

as we drove home after the dread diagnosis, i knew this day had been long in the making. it was a day i had long feared. dad started smoking cigarettes when he was 16, back in his hometown of Mauston, Wis. in those pre-1950 days, everybody smoked. Both of his parents smoked, and i'm sure many of his high-school buddies

THE JOURNEY HOME

49

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DaD sounDeD Desperate on the phone. "I've been working on the taxes," he said. "I don't think I

can get them done in time. tomorrow is tax day." What? Tax day? tomorrow was not tax day. That was still more than a week away. It was late afternoon on easter sunday, april 8, 2007. Dad had all of his paperwork and receipts spread across the table in the family room. I had offered to take care of the taxes for him, but he wanted to get it done on his own. When I later reconstructed the paper-work to finish Dad's taxes, I cried. His handwriting was so shaky. each written line on his lists of expenses looked like it took Herculean effort to compose. The project was proving too much for him. But I was so proud of him, because, as I would later determine, all of his math was accurate. "Dad, don't worry, tomorrow isn't tax day," I said reassuringly. "We can file for an extension if you're concerned about it. There is still plenty of time." Plenty of time. Those words still echo in my mind. as it turned out, there would not be plenty of time.

EASTER SUNDAY, GOOD FRIDAY

Chapter V

50 THE JOURNEY HOME

I was quite worried about Dad's confused state of mind, so I phoned Dr. Frontiera's answering service. It happened that he was on call that easter weekend. Based on information from my sister Marghi, I described Dad's confusion and related that he had taken a couple of falls recently. He bumped his head on the carpeting after try-ing to get up from his recliner. His feet and calves were swollen. He was having great pain near his liver. and his skin color was off. What did it all mean?

"We have to consider the possibility the cancer has spread to his brain," Frontiera said. What? Brain? The doctor's theory did fit the symptoms, but the statement didn't sit right. We had seen the oncologist just over a week ago. While the chemotherapy was no longer shrink-ing the cancer, there was no indication the disease had made advances, either. The term he used was "stable." Dad was sent home to rest up so a new course of drugs could be tried. now we were talking about possible brain can-cer. It did not make sense. Had that much changed since his last Ct scan in late March? I did not have time to ponder it. I packed a bag and drove to Mom and Dad's.

The next day, I drove Dad to the west side of Madison to see the oncologist. Dr. Frontiera was at another clinic location that day, so we saw Dr. edward prendergast. The doctor felt around Dad's chest, stomach and liver to find the spots that were causing such pain. "What I'm feeling here are tumors," he said, probing the liver. That simply couldn't be, I thought. Dad was holding his own against the disease. or so we thought. Maybe I did not read be-

THE JOURNEY HOME 51

tween the lines when Dad was sent home to rest up for more treatment. I simply did not want to believe the can-cer was spreading. But again, I did not have time to dwell on it. We had to schedule an urgent MrI scan to look for evidence of cancer in the brain.

Before we left the clinic, Dr. prendergast ordered IV fluids for Dad, who was dehydrated and coughing. The nurses had great trouble finding a good vein for the IV needle. after the first try, the vein collapsed and the saline solution leaked all over the pillow on which Dad's arm was resting. after several more attempts, the IV line was finally established. Dad sat back in a recliner to rest. It was an old routine — hooked up to IVs, sitting and waiting. a Milwaukee Brewers baseball game was on television. It was a replay of the previous day's game vs. the Chicago Cubs. We sat and watched in silence. The Brewers won 9-4. Dad drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep.

I was worried. What was going on? none of it made sense, based on what we had been told a week ago. But cancer is not predictable. It does not play by any rules. It can explode at any time. all I knew is the whole situation was spinning out of control. Again. I could not know it at the time, but things were about to get much worse. at the same time, I was about to get a firsthand lesson in Divine providence. I could neither control the situation nor fix it. as I would find out, though, God had a plan.

I awoke early the next day, tuesday, april 10. I had to get Dad to st. Mary's Hospital for the MrI of his brain. This would give us answers, and tell us if the can-

eAsTer sundAy, good fridAy

“Many saints are known and praised by all. we pray to them in litanies and celebrate their feast days.

But the vast majority of holy men and women live heroic lives quietly before God. Loyal to family, lovers of God, ser-vants in the Church, these unsung saints live everyday life as an example for us. david Hanneman is one such man. His story is exemplary and should be told to the world. He not only lived a noble life, but also suffered with heroism and grace as he passed into glory. This is a story to encourage and bless us all. we are thankful to Joseph Hanneman for sharing his father and making his story known to us who need such examples to encourage us as we face the difficulties and challenges of life.

“Through his illness and the miracles we expe-rienced, I came to see that Dad’s was not just

a journey. It was a journey home. Home to God.”

The Journey Home is the inspiring story of a father’s battle with cancer, and the mirac-ulous parting message he left for his family. Despite crippling symptoms from cancer, David Hanneman finished his life with re-newed Catholic faith – and a resolve that showed how each journey has an incred-ible destination.

www.journeyhomestory.com

– Stephen K. RayAuthor of Upon This Rock and Crossing the Tiber

Praise for The Journey home