GERARD CHRISTIAN ZACHER: OFFICIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY SITE

"MY MEMOIRS" PAGE 13: CANCER, CHEMO, & SURVIVAL

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Chiquitita": Abba: https://youtu.be/bqsrWXkLBoY

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That was a pic line in my arm I had to leave it there for 8 months.

It's Been Very Busy For Me For Quite Some Time, And I haven't Had The Time Or The Energy At the SAME Time (LOL) To Continue "My Memoirs" From Where Part 2 Left Off. So, Here Is A Summary That Starts From SomeWhere In Part 2 And Takes This All The Way To The Present. I Will Go Back And Finish In FULL DETAIL (As In Parts 1 & 2) As Soon As Am Able!
 
 
 
 
 
 

I've been a busy boy over the years! After my mother (adoptive...have to explain that because my biological mother found me a few years ago so now I have two families) died, I went through the Army, got 4 awards in Basic Training, but got a medical separation when I got bronchitis for awhile. After that, I wound up in Phoenix, Arizona for a few months. Then Las Vegas for a couple of years. While in Vegas, I got my own theater group going, my own radio show, a free-lance art business, and did a lot of charity work and organized public events and shows. I was all over the local newspapers and magazines and gossip columns there.

Then Dad had a stroke and I gave everything up and came back to Chicago to him through his recovery as his wife, Sandy, had to keep working a lot. That took a year. Then I decided it was time to get back to my life, so I decided to move and settle where I'd always wanted to - Hollywood. I worked for Disneyland my first four years here. Then I came back to the city area. I pursued acting the normal routes, but saw people doing free-lance film character impersonations on Hollywood Blvd. I decided to try my hand at it. Most people doonly one character, but that wasn't enough for me. i had to be diverse as I am am a diverse actor. I now do about 20 different film characters. And a lot of people who do it are very unproffesional. But I stay very professional, pay great attention to detail, and have developed a knack for special effects makeup, changing my appearance, and designing and putting professional quality costumes together. Because of all this, I began to stand out to the press and media and they began to take notice of me.

I wound up the main star of 5 independent movies officially due out later this year. I'm in very high demand by professional photographers who have me model as the various film characters I do. I've wound up in major articles in the Los Angeles Times newspaper, Empire Magazine, 3 issues of Keep Rockin' Magazine, 2 photography books - one is already out, and the other is coming out later. I'm in a book about James Dean in France. It's really just unexpectedly taken off for me - ESPECIALLY my James Dean impersonation. I've been requested to do a LOT of various gigs as James Dean and been requested to go to his hometown in Fairmount, Indiana where I did things to entertain the official fan club there as well as got to meet and befriend the real James' Dean's surviving family who grew up with him, his best friends who grew up with him, and got to go all over and was photographed at the farm where he grew up. The whole town loved me and I wound up their newspapers and magazines a few times. Here in Hollywood, I also go to know Hollywood friends, roommates, lovers, and entertainment industry colleagues of the real James Dean's and they, too, love my work.

I was on a real roll when suddenly, last August, I was diagnosed with Lymphoma Cancer. I had to go through several months of chemotherapy and practically LIVED in the hospital for most of that time. I wound up cured, though, with no trace of the cancer in my body anymore and my very last chemo session was about a month ago. During recovery, I signed up with all kinds of programs and organizations that helped me get back on my feet and get everything going again throughout my recovery. Everything went mostly back to normal for me in a few months. Will fill in more details later.

FINALLY, HERE IS THE CONTINUATION WITH MORE DETAILS:

Around late summer 2009, I began to feel noticeably..."not well". I couldn't put my finger on it. Nothing turned up in any check ups at my doctor's office. So, I just went about life and work and dealt with it. Eventually, I started getting what felt like abdominal cramps in my stomach. It got worse quickly. This time, I was told I had pancreatitis. It is a condition caused by some foods and other issues. The only issue that fit in my getting it was food. I didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. This caused my pancreas to swell. I was told it would go away soon. But the pain kept getting worse and reached a point where it was unbearable. It drive me to almost keel over and whimper. I went to the hospital. They wanted to put a probe down my throat, and they put me under. I woke up with a doctor telling me they found something else in my body that was causing the pain. He didn't tell me what it is was yet. I was immediately transferred to a more regular room. I was told they needed to do a special test - a biopsy - and take a piece of my spine out of my back. This greatly scared me. But, as with all my life, I did not show it. I let them do it. The needle hurt. Then my back went numb in that section. They picked up tools, and I felt pressure and heard a disturbing crunch coming from my back. Then they left the room. I laid there wondering what all this was about, hoping it wasn't anything serious. After waiting for a while and eventually dosing off out of boredom, a few doctors came to my room. One spoke and he was not subtle at all. "You have cancer." He matter-of-factly said in a heavy yet understandable Russian accent. "There is a tumor in your abdomen. It is non-hodgkins lymphoma cancer. We have to start you on chemotherapy right now. You have two choices. You can accept the chemotherapy and have a 50/50 chance of surviving, or you can turn it down. But if you turn it down, you will have no chance in the end, and you will die. Luckily, it is not a type of cancer that would be likely to come back if we get rid of it. The survival rate of this cancer is very high after treatment is very high. We'll come back in fifteen minutes for your answer."















All I could think was "WHAM!". That hit me like a ton a ton of bricks! I To say I was beyond shock is a major understatement! The first thing I thought of was the fact that my mother had died of cancer. Now it might be my turn, even though I was adopted. After all, I had wound up with diabetes like my father despite my being adopted. For a few minutes, I felt doomed to death as well. I thought about how this could happen when I was so young. This was, in my mind at the time, not a young person's typical problem. All I had prior was diabetes, which was being treated and I didn't even have THAT for that long yet. All my life until recent years I had been the healthiest person I knew. This couldn't be happening! But it was. Then I remembered that we were told by doctors that my mother could have lived if she had gotten herself checked much earlier. Maybe I did have a chance. It was almost time for the doctors to return. I had heard many horror stories about chemotherapy. In addition to all the extra sickness from it, I would lose all my hair, too! I did NOT want to suffer through that. But, as the doctor had said, that was my only chance. My only hope. I had not yet done all the things I wanted to. Worse, I had not yet accomplished a lot of the goals I'd always had. No. I wasn't finished yet. I couldn't go. It wasn't my time yet. Though dreading the inevitable suffering ahead, I decided to accept the chemotherapy treatment so that I could have at least that 50% chance of living and beating this. The doctors came back, and I told them my decision. They didn't waste any time. They brought the chemo drugs and equipment into my room right away and hooked me up. The grueling part of that was installing a "pic line" into my left upper arm that was meant to stay there for 8 months! That was extremely painful when they put that in. I couldn't ever let it get fully wet. I wound have to bandage it and wrap tight plastic around it every time I would shower, etc.. until my final chemo session.























Meanwhile, there was still the intense abdominal pain. They tried injecting various pain killers into my arm. None of them really worked. Morphine did, but it made me feel uncomfortably high. I HATE feeling high. I don't like the feeling of anything else controlling my body. Diabetes medicine was enough. But there was no choice here. I couldn't tolerate that degree of pain. They tried Dilaudid, which I had never heard of before. I got an uncomfortable high for a few seconds. But then I felt relaxed and soon after, very drowsy. But it made the pain go away! So, finally we found something that worked (at least for a few hours) without any lingering, uncomfortable feelings. Just drowsiness. Compared to the pain, I could handle the drowsiness over that any day. For a couple of weeks, they wouldn't let me have any solid food or drinks. That was awful! I felt starved. But the DiLaudid had me knocked out most of the time, so I didn't have to suffer the hunger pains a often as I otherwise would. They had to give me DiLaudid every few hours, every day, every night. The pain would come back with a vengeance once the previous shot wore off. Being denied food was meant to get rid of the pancreatitis. It did the trick with getting rid of THAT. BUT the tumor had also caused the abdominal pain, so I still had basically the same pain. Finally,I was able to eat and drink again.























A surprising amount of friends came to visit me in the hospital regularly. I also got a lot of phone calls. And a film crew! LOL! One of the documentary film crews that had filmed me working with my costumes in the past came back to film my battle with cancer and chemotherapy for a second documentary film project. I agreed to it, because I thought of Farrah Fawcett being brave enough to allow herself to be filmed with her battle to help others. So, I also felt that it would help others, and if I made it and got cured, it might give other people hope throughout their recovery. They often came while my other friends were visiting, too. The hospital staff did know that they were filming me, thankfully. One thing, I had not yet begun to lose much hair. But soon enough, I did. It was traumatic on the one hand. But on the other hand, I knew it was coming, and if I made it it would be a rather small and temporary price to pay in order to get to stay alive. However, whenever anyone visited me, I insisted on wearing a wig I had chosen on a rare day out of the hospital that looked JUST like my own hair when it's grown out a bit. So, I'd wear that and a gray, patterned bini hat that a dear friend gave me on top of the wig. (Before I got THAT wig, I used a brown one that I had worn when paying tribute to Alex DeLarge from "A Clockwork Orange" and a bini hat). The point was I did NOT want to LOOK sick in front of anyone. knowing that I didn't LOOK sick helped me sometimes not FEEL sic, or at least not think about it too much. I let the film crew film me after losing my hair without a wig ONCE and ONCE only. Not looking sick was very important to keeping my morale. I'm still very attached to that gray bini hat today, and still wear it a lot on and off. That hat and I had been through a lot together. LOL! It's a reminder of what I went through and survived.























Speaking of my head another thing began to happen to me occasionally. Sometimes out of the blue, my head would suddenly be filled with EXTREME, almost burning, searing sort of pain. Don't know what caused it. But it made me HOWL, begging and screaming for help whenever it happened. This from a guy who spent his entire childhood never crying at the doctor's office, barely ever wincing over anything even into adulthood until now. Nurses came in and gave me a cream to put on it. This seemed to relieve it. I forgot what that was. I think was a side effect of the chemo drugs, if I remember correctly. I had never been prone to side effects from medications before the rare times I had to take any medicine for anything. But I got slammed with them now! I had to take medicine to counteract the chemo drugs. THOSE medicines also gave me their own side effects, and THOSE medicines gave me THEIR own side effects. This is why I would only be out of the hospital for about a day or two before going right back in for the rest of the month, and that would continue for about 8 months. My body was taking way too much of a beating.























Whenever my friends or the film crew weren't visiting and I was awake, over the months, it would bother and torture me to no end that I couldn't work or do anything productive. O really couldn't do anything but just lay there, literally. I looked forward to certain sitcom TV shows everyday. Some that I grew upon. Some I had never watched before, like "I Love Lucy", "Gilligan's Island", and others, but I enjoyed now after nothing else to do for months. I got hooked on, "Everybody Loves Raymond". I got introduced to "The King of Queens". And I looked forward to "America's Funniest Home Videos" everyday. At night time it was "Family Guy" and "Robot Chicken". You can only watch TV so much, though. I mainly felt bored and useless, and wondered if I would ever have the chance to be productive and creative again. I did appreciate the people in my life very much. I had reached a point where though I was going to fight this every step of the way and was determined to win and stay alive and get back to normal, on the other hand, if I was wrong and it really WAS my time to go, after all, I had to accept it and be happy and appreciative of the people in my life and the experiences and memories I had and the smaller tastes of some of my dreams and goals that I DID get to experience and the accomplishments I DID achieve. IF I had to accept death, I'd need to do it gracefully. But still....something in me told me that this was NOT my time. I preferred to believe that. I do have to say the DiLaudid DID help me sleep - literally - through the majority of those months as well as keep the abdominal pain at bay. I'll give it THAT.























During the last few months of the chemotherapy, a friend of mine happened to bring a few of his friends that I had never met. It was nice of them to come see me. One in particular, Bradley, struck up a friendship with me himself. I was starting to be able to finally spend more days OUT of the hospital at that point. He invited me to stay at his apartment a lot when I wasn't in the hospital, because I was discovering things my then-roommates were doing behind my back - stealing and trying to use my mail while I was in the hospital, renting out my room during the time on and off (without even telling me) to guys who stole some of my belongings. They were trying to get their hands on my benefits. Bradley quickly became a good friend and a kind of volunteer around the clock nurse - not medically trained but in a general sense. He took very good care of me. Technically, I was still living with other "friends" (I found out later things they did when I was in the hospital - again like open and use months of my mail, renting out my room without my permission or even knowledge despite the fact that I still had some money coming in every month that I gave them...basically I was still paying rent and bills even though my PERSON wasn't physically there. But I'll get to that later as that was the reason I moved out of there after my recovery). But I spent most of my time at my Bradley's place. He had campaigned and won the position of being my support system at the time. It wasn't easy for me to let someone get that position. I had always taken care of myself. And I took care of many of my friends during their times of need. I had always been the "go-to-friend" all my life, helping other people solve their problems. It was uncomfortable for me admitting I was in a medically vulnerable situation. I didn't want to feel like an invalid burdening anyone. I was surviving just fine on my own in the hospital of my own free will. But this WAS a really great help - getting to see SOME life outside the hospital again and knowing that someone was there helping me through the last of my chemo days. This was not to last, though. By this point, the abdominal pain began really decreasing, and I didn't need the DiLaudid that much anymore. By the end of my final chemo later, I didn't need it at all. That was a very good thing, because I could see through experience how addicting it could be. Luckily, my body only needed it for pain. Once the pain was gone, my body felt no more need for it.























One night, our mutual friend who had introduced us in the hospital in the first place invited us to a party. Bradley did not want to go. He wasn't a social type of person. Neither did I at first. But the mutual friend kept calling and calling and pushing me to, playing very heavily on the fact that he knew I was anxious to start getting out and doing more social things again. Finally, to get him off my back and stop calling, I agreed to go under the condition that I didn't have to stay very long, as I was still sick. I told Bradley about this. He didn't sound too pleased for whatever reason. Well, my friend got drunk while we there and the host of the party did NOT let anyone inside. It was freezing. But I had to wait till my friend sobered up again. I spent my whole night shivering and holding my face and rubbing my hands over a bucket with wax and a candle in it. After hours of this, one of the people at the party realized I was not well, ad opened his car so I could get a little warmer in there while I was waiting to go. . Finally, after a night of torture, he drove me and other friends of him home. Almost crashed.























I told Bradley about this the next day as he always called me or I'd call him everyday. He invited me over again to watch movies. Had a good time laughing as they were comedies. He had plans the next day so I went home. The next day, I called him. He wouldn't answer the phone all day. I left a few messages. No response. I thought maybe something bad happened. But I found out he was fine. It turned out for whatever reason, he just stopped all communication. Eventually I got to talk to him a LITTLE over the phone. He was mean, short, and rude, still didn't give me any explanation, and didn't respond again. That really hurt. The doctor had JUST announced in front of him during my latest trip to the hospital, that the tumor was now gone, and that I no longer had any trace of any cancer in my body. Bradley had also been talking about all these activities to do, when I was feeling down, to look forward to doing when it was official that I was better. So, I felt really built up, and then dropped off a building, emotionally and spiritually. I still wonder why someone would just pluck someone up they met in the hospital, drive a real CAMPAIGN to build them up...only to drop them with no communication or reason.























But...fine. I had survived. It had been my choice to survive all along, and I did. I still had all my other friends. And I'd be fine. I had my last session of chemotherapy during the 8th month. It was done now. My hair would finally start coming back. I was feeling much less sick and basically healthy again. There was only one thing left. And it wasn't easy. I found out the experience wasn't over yet. I had ended phase ONE of the recovery. Now I was in phase TWO. I was to find learning to live again and reintroduce myself to normal life after all that...was now also part of the battle. And not as easy to readjust as one would think. After being all but isolated from the outside world and doing nothing but being an invalid laying in a bed suffering and knowing you may have been possibly slated to die and having to accept that...stepping right back into regular life was...complicated. You had to get out of the mindset you had been in for over half a year, change it back, and readjust to everything. It felt kind of like playing "Frogger". Also now was a new element. My body had taken a very severe beating for a very long time. I was generally healthy again. But I had lost a lot of muscle, a lot of weight, it would take a long time for my hair to grow back, and more. I had to accept that people may judge me for not being in full form. I may not have looked FULLY sick. But the damage was still going to show for awhile. I had to have patience as my body, too, would gradually get back to normal. People generally wouldn't know that. They'd expect you to be able to look like and do everything everyone else could. But you can't. People weren't going to know what I went through, and I was sure I'd be judged for it. And I was. One more minor example: sometimes on the bus there would be only handicapped seating available. Before I was the type to always be the first to give up my seat to an elderly or other disabled person. But there were still times that I myself was feeling a bit weak and not well. I still had some chemo in me, and would for another few months as it slowly drained itself out of my body. So, I'd have to stay seated for my own safety. I was still wearing the wig as I still did not want to look sick. Especially now that I was back in full society again. People would give me the dirtiest looks because I could not give up the seat. Some people even yelled at me. I tried to explain but they didn't me a lot of the time. There were other times I overheard people talk about me and say I was anorexic. Sometimes I'd hear someone tell someone else they thought I might be wearing a wig. I was. But I didn't want anyone else to know that. At other times I had a few special needs and I wouldn't get accommodated. All I could do was just be patient and not take those things personally It was difficult, though. Sometimes friends went and had plans and did things that I knew I was not physical up to doing yet, and I'd have to miss out.























Well, more on Phase Two of that later.

Thanks For Visiting!

 
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