Adam Frey: A Collection of Blogs and Stories by Exit Zero Publishing

Adam Frey: A Collection of Blogs & Stories

By Adam Frey & James V. Moffatt

I dedicate this book to our children. For Sidney, Dr. Kirsten and Jay Moffatt. Your proud and fortunate father.

Adam Frey: A Collection of Blogs & Stories Copyright ÂŠ 2010 By James V. Moffatt emoffatt@aol.com www.AdamFreybook.com

Published by Exit Zero Publishing, Inc. www.exitzero.us

Book design by Jack Wright Cover design by Danielle Hobeika Cover photo credits: Main photo, Danielle Hobeika. Clockwise from top left: Cindy Frey, Sarah McKnight, Danielle Hobeika, Cindy Frey Back page: Brooke Zumas, ZumPhotography.com

First edition: November 2010 ISBN 978-0-9830768-0-3

About The Author

Jamie Moffatt has written three other books of stories: A Turning Point (with Roger Olesen); Wrestlers At The Trials; and Strobel: Stories From A Life With Wrestling. The Amateur Wrestling News recently selected Jamie as the 2010 Bob Dellinger Award winner, naming him â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The National Wrestling Writer of the Year.â&#x20AC;&#x2122; He is a 1965 graduate of Cornell University and resides with his wife Betty in Cape May, New Jersey.

Adam Wesley Frey 1986–2009

AUTHOR’S NOTE

irst and foremost, my deepest thanks goes to Adam Frey for taking the time and having the courage, strength and wisdom to publicly share his experiences as a young cancer patient via the internet. His blogs, written over a period of 21 months, eloquently reveal Adam’s spirit and are the core of this book. In the interest of keeping the book compact, I have only included about half of the blogs that Adam wrote; and, in some cases I have taken license to edit punctuation and grammar, without losing the essence of Adam’s message. I most sincerely thank Cindy Frey and the Adam Frey Foundation for granting me permission to author this book and to use Adam’s own words, which reveal just what an inspiration he was to the thousands of readers who followed his roller coaster story on a regular basis. My thanks also go to Cindy for putting me in touch with many of the people whose favorite stories about Adam are included in the book – interwoven among the blogs. I consider it a great honor and privilege to be given the opportunity to meld together these stories. Adam made many friends and touched so many people during his short time on this earth. I only spoke with a handful of you to record your stories. I thank each and every one of you for responding and sharing. So a big thanks to the following book contributors – Cindy Frey, Garrett Frey, Jerry Frey, Dr. Len Appleman, Tim Boda, Ray Brinzer, Jeff Buxton, Scott Casber, Vito Cataldo, Cory Cooperman, Bill and Will Durstein, Steve Garland, Danielle Hobeika,

Kris Kersey, Rob Koll, Danielle Kover, Jeff Krespin, Jordan Leen, Josh Liebman, Mario Mason, Gene Nighman, Curtis Roddy, Karen Shanaman, Bob Siar, Sandy Stevens, Hudson Taylor. Several other special people helped make this book happen and I am thankful to each for their support and brilliance – Danielle Hobieka donated her time and many skills in designing the book cover and setting up the website for the book; my son-in-law Jeffrey Kreiss used his considerable charm in finding a most cost-effective printing company; and Jack Wright … well, let’s just say Jack is the master as an editor and publisher. Lastly, I want to add a few words about the Adam Frey Foundation. To quote from the Foundation website, “The Adam Frey Foundation is a non-profit organization formed by Adam Frey to give comfort to and provide enjoyment for those receiving treatment for cancer. His mindset [was] that millions of dollars are allocated to the research of cancer, but very little goes into funds that can be used for something other than needles and pins; something that can put a smile on [the patient’s] face. As of today, The Adam Frey Foundation is the leading contributor to the Hillman patient assistant program where gifts cards are provided in $100 amounts to be used for food, gas, or prescriptions.” All proceeds from the sales of this book go directly to the Adam Frey Foundation. – Jamie Moffatt, October, 2010

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

PROLOGUE

Monday morning, March 24, 2008

CHAPTER

Adam Frey was driving his green Honda SUV to his 9am class at Cornell University in upstate New York. Over the weekend he had competed at the NCAA wrestling championships in St. Louis, winning two matches with bonus points to help his Cornell team finish in the top 10 in the country. He had hoped to place high in the tournament individually, and when that didn’t happen he continued to be perplexed and frustrated that his stamina had deserted him. His last bout was a recurring nightmare – gain an early advantage but then start to feel weak, eventually lose the lead, and the match, in the waning minutes. But the college wrestling season was history until the following November, so Adam’s mind was now concentrating on his studies. Cruising along the rural back road from his place in Cortland to the Ithaca campus, he reached the crest of a hill where he was startled to find a large black vehicle stopped right in the middle of his lane. On his right Adam saw the pond; on his left he saw the tree. Perhaps because Adam was not a swimmer, he instinctively yanked the steering wheel to his left and slammed on the brakes. The road was full of cinders and the car spun out of control, doing a full 360. It slid across the pavement and hit the tree with such force that the car was totaled, with Adam ending up in the back seat. Somehow, Adam walked away unharmed. “I was at work that morning cleaning a client’s house when I got the phone call that all parents dread,” says his mother Cindy Frey. “Adam was on the line – ‘Mom, I wrecked my car… but I’m okay. Gene [Nighman] was a few minutes behind me, saw the aftermath of the accident and said I should go to the hospital just to have everything checked out. He’s taking me there now.’ “We were prepared to take Adam’s brother Garrett back to boarding school later that morning, but now Jerry [Adam’s father] and I were anxious. Adam called back a little later saying, ‘I’m okay, go take Garrett back to school.’ So we put all Garrett’s stuff in the car and headed for Blair Academy [in north-western New Jersey]. As we were driving east across Interstate 80 the phone rings again. This time it’s the doctor who has examined Adam at the Cortland hospital and she has some startling news for us – ‘We have found three tumors in Adam’s body. One is exceptionally large. He has cancer.’ “We were in shock, of course. Yet, it dawned on us that in the weeks to come the mysteries that Adam and all of us had regarding his difficulty with making weight and losing stamina might finally be solved.” Three days after the accident, and having learned that he was now a cancer patient, Adam started his blog.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

y name is Adam Frey, I am 23 years old. I go to Cornell University, where I wrestled and hope to one day wrestle again. During my wrestling career, I was fortunate enough to capture three individual high school national titles and before getting cancer, was ranked as high as #2 in the USA as a [college] freshman. I have had cancer since around my 21st birthday [January 6, 2007] and was finally diagnosed in March of 2008. I have a very rare strain of cancer that is extremely deadly, but I am still fighting and remain hopeful. As of my last visit, my doctors think I have my cancer in check without chemo, but at any time that could change. I have a very strong faith in God and though not knowing his plan, I try my best to follow suit. I guess most people would consider me a funny guy or a wise guy, or some other things. I like to think I have a strong faith and good solid American values of hard work, dedication and faith. I guess if you read all of the 250 posts revealing my life in the most brutal and honest way I can put forth, you will notice an evolution of character. I don’t know much about who I was when I wrecked my car into a tree and got sent on a wild ride a year ago March. This blog is not meant to inspire, although I hear time and time again that it does. I am not writing for empathy or pity or sympathy, I personally do not care for those things. I write, and keep on writing, to unmask the challenges of such a disease in a human way. I have been on quite a journey this past year, and I welcome you to come along and follow it. Its had ups and downs; been joyful, painful, sorrowful, and every other emotion you could name to extremes. With that said, I hope you enjoy getting to know maybe one story and hopefully you enjoy the site. God Bless, Adam Frey You will be his witness to all men of what you have seen and heard. – Acts 22:15 This blog was written by Adam on May 24, 2009

Chapter One

Biopsy Tomorrow Published March 27, 2008 tomorrow we find out exactly what is in me. I go in for my biopsy in the morning and they hope to know what it is roughly within a few hours, and fully in a few days. After that, I am heading back home to Pittsburgh. I really can’t wait to see my puppy; heard he is huge.

Finally Home Published March 28, 2008 At 9am this morning I arrived at the hospital to get some blood drawn, again. It was the fourth needle in me in the last three days, and there are four more to go. I will tell you one thing – I have come to dislike getting poked by needles and IVs, lol. Afterwards, I went to the lab to have a growth drained or checked that was underneath my nipple. With no anesthesia, the short poke felt like getting my ear drained… times 10. I am sure you wrestlers can sympathize with me. Fortunately, that one came out negative. So, one down, one to go. I then began getting prepped for my biopsy. My nurse, Nurse Betty, was first rate. I honestly could not have asked for a better

or more accommodating nurse. After getting changed and checked, I was wheeled to meet the doc doing the operation. Here we looked at the tumor and the main difficulty of the procedure. Most people have about three inches of lower back muscle tissue. I have about eight inches of tissue to penetrate, so a thicker, 10-inch long needle had to be used as the main insertion, which was to act like a tunnel. Inside it, a smaller needle was to be inserted to make multiple passes into the tumor without going through my lower back again. Seemed painful enough. Afterwards, I was prepped with my IV and was taken into the room and laid on my stomach and made comfortable, which was kind of annoying because the whiplash from my crash is still lingering and the old neck doesn’t like to move around too much. After getting situated, I received a healthy dose of drugs and the process started. Thank the good Lord I was on my stomach and did not have to see the needle. I heard them talking about it and caught a glimpse of it after, and it was HUGE! Like the biggest needle I have ever seen on any sci-fi, horror chamber, anything. The procedure burnt a little bit, but it was nothing serious. I guess I was too busy talking about

Adam with brother Garrett, mother Cindy and father Jerry. Sure Pictures Photography

microbreweries and double IPA beer samplings to pay attention to it too much. I guess I was pretty out of it though as well. Nurse Betty was able to sneak me a restaurant cheeseburger, fries, water, ginger ale, apple juice, cookies and crackers before I curled up for a nap under those heated blankets that only hospitals seem to have. Meanwhile, my parents went and got everything out of my car and took some pictures which

I will upload when I get a chance. Looking at them, I am very lucky to be typing this short novella to you all. After that I strapped in for the trek back to Pittsburgh through the pouring rain. Fortunately, I had a lot to say and a lot of people wanting to hear it, so the ride went fast. I also had a gratuitous amount of McDonald’s as well. They did tell me to eat as much as I can, and well, I am going to seize that opportunity

14 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION Cindy Frey Adam’s mother OF BLOGS & STORIES Adam was our first born and I knew he was an unusual child when I saw him walking at eight months. He just stood up one day and started toddling after the older kids. He loved his dogs – his favorite was Zeus. Those two were very close and Zeus always knew what was going on. He had a stroke the day of Adam’s car accident. Adam was very bright and competitive. He loved grade school and always strived to be perfect – whether it was coloring inside the lines, playing Santa in the Christmas play, taking piano and saxophone lessons, playing hockey. He was going to be the star in whatever he chose. He chose wrestling – in first grade – and that became the center of his life. He competed for the Shaler youth wrestling club and had a tough time of it starting out. He wanted to quit after getting beaten a lot those first few weeks but I told him, ‘Adam, I worked to buy your shoes and uniform. I’m not going to let you quit until you grow out of your shoes.’ He hung in there. As he started winning his matches, our lives revolved around Adam’s – and later Garrett’s – wrestling schedule. Our ‘vacations’ consisted of traveling to wrestling tournaments all over Western Pennsylvania and up around the Syracuse and Buffalo region in New York. I remember during Adam’s first or second year going to a Freestyle tournament in Syracuse. That’s where Adam wrestled Troy Nickerson, who 12 years later would become his teammate at Cornell. He also wrestled a girl named Stephanie, who actually took Adam down, but then he got mad and pinned her. While Adam was a prankster, he took his wrestling very seriously. He developed muscle very quickly, helped, I’m sure, by pulling his 80-pound dog all around the house and yard. He wore these thick glasses but the wrestling soon turned him from a nerd into quite a tough kid. It was a remarkable transformation.

CHAPTER

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

Jerry Frey Adam’s father I am a Pittsburgh native who started wrestling in the ninth grade at North Hills high school and competed for Duquesne University until they dropped their wrestling program in the mid-70s. I married a local girl, Cindy, in 1976. Ten years later we had our first child, Adam, and four years after that, we had Garrett. I like to refer to our two sons as ‘my pride’ (Adam) and ‘my joy’ (Garrett). Cindy and I named our first son Adam because we were Christians and he was our first-born, so it just made sense. Adam came home one day when he was in first grade and said, ‘Dad, I want to wrestle.’ He was just a little guy and I told him, ‘Adam, you’re not wrestling. I blew my knee out wrestling and I’m not going to let you wrestle.’ The next day he came home and said, ‘All the tough kids are out for wrestling. I really want to wrestle.’ Now at that time Adam was not a tough kid. He was a skinny little guy with glasses. I said to him, ‘Adam, you’re not wrestling; that’s the end of it.’ He came home the third day and asked me again. He had evidently talked to his mom about this and gave me a good argument. He said, ‘Dad

I really want to do this. You told me that just because I’m little it doesn’t matter. I can do anything I want in this world and be successful – my size shouldn’t matter.’ He got me with that one. So, the next day he joined the wrestling team at Shaler. At the start, I did nothing at all wrestling-wise with Adam except for dropping him off at the gym. After about two weeks, during which time he was getting his butt handed to him, he came home and said, ‘Dad, all these other guys have their fathers come and work with them. I need you to come and help me.’ I told him, ‘Adam, if I come and help you, no matter what, you cannot quit. I’m not going to invest my time in something and have you quit on me.’ He tells me, ‘No, Dad, I won’t quit. I like this; it’s just that I’m getting beat up every day.’ So I start working with him – at practices and at home in our basement. Three weeks later he won his first tournament and he just got better and better and better. They used to call Adam the Ice Man and that was way before Chuck Mandella ever came on the scene.

CHAPTER ONE whole-heartedly. I will tell you one thing; at least fighting cancer comes with food and water. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. – Philippians 4:13

The Daily Scoop

Published March 30, 2008 my friends who came to visit me last night kept me up quite late, but the support and conversation was great. I have agreed to give up alcohol and candy until cleared from this. My friend Grace is giving up chocolate and pop/ soda. It is unbelievable the support and care I have received. I want to let each and every one of you know that although I may not know all of you, every one of you are in my prayers, and I appreciate every one of yours. Today was more or less very relaxing, which I sure needed. I was able to go with my Uncle Jeff out to Famous Dave’s, which is my favorite place to eat, and pounded the food. I really am enjoying this whole ‘eat as much as you can to fight cancer’ thing. It gives eating more of a purpose than just being my favorite thing to do in the world. I go to the hospital to kick everything off Tuesday and, to say the least, I am really feeling anxious and nervous. I am pretty sure I will be in the center for about a week until they see how my body reacts. I hope I get out, though, for my brother is wrestling at Brockport, NY, and I hope to be in his corner. Although I do not know really what lies ahead, I am prepared to do battle, and ready to win. I hope that I can help some other people at the center through this. Not only for their sake, but for my own sanity as well. I tend to do better when my mind is focused on bringing someone else up. It gives me a lift so to speak and takes my mind off what my battles are. One more thing some friends talked me into. I am designing T-shirts that I will have up here that will be for sale for anyone who

wants one. I promise they will be amazing and all of the proceeds are going to help defray the costs of treatment, care, and everything else. I will have a design up by the end of the week in the gallery. Just let me know what you guys all think about that idea. I hope everyone is doing well. The weather here in Pittsburgh is way better than Ithaca, NY. My mom is still the most amazing cook ever, and I am still ready to pound this cancer into submission. I guess nothing has changed. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. – Deuteronomy 31:6

Some Questions Answered

Published April 2, 2008 I decided to wait until after April Fool’s Day to write this post. It just so happens that I am a master prankster and April Fool’s Day is one of my favorite days of the year. In fact, Gene, if you are reading this, I had a master scheme that I had been waiting almost eight months to execute on you. Too bad I have to wait another year. On to more serious news... I guess the cancer was not lymphoma as they thought; rather a very rare strain of testicular cancer that for some reason did not develop in my testicles. It is a fast-moving cancer that does require some concern, and is related to the strain that Lance Armstrong had. The odd thing about this type of cancer is that I inherited it from birth. There are these cells throughout your body that somehow or someway do not group with an organ. So people could have liver cells in their legs, for example. With this cancer, there is apparently a higher number of testicular cells that are the lost sheep. These tend to gather in the lower abdomen area by the kidneys. Mine became cancerous. Because of family history,

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

they think that this is from my mother’s side. I was joking with my mom on the way out about it before I saw her face, and she definitely feels quite responsible. Even with giving me cancer, I will tell the world that I could not ask for a better mother and I love her to death. Nothing will ever change that. I did get her to apologize for spanking little Adam’s butt when he acted up his whole life though (hee-hee-hee). So, that is the diagnosis. Here is the road to recovery. I have an 80% chance of a total cure of this cancer. The good news is once this strand is gone, it will never come back. To get rid of this they are going to put me through six months of intense chemotherapy. I will be in the hospital for a week straight, getting treatments daily while living at the center. Then I will have two weeks of recover before repeating. The center is still up in the air. Indiana is the big spot for my strain of cancer, and we have to look into what the odds of winning this fight will be in Pittsburgh or there. I prefer to fight on my own home turf, but if the difference is substantial, I will be in Indiana for a good bit. The doctor said that the chemotherapy plan I will be on is the most intense one they can give. I will lose my hair, appetite, feel achy, and everything else wrapped into one. Fortunately, my hair is kind of leaving anyways, so I’ll have an excuse, for once, to be bald. Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. – Proverbs 3:5-6

This Was Not The Best Of News

Published April 5, 2008 I am in Brockport NY, about to watch my brother wrestle a couple matches in his wrestling tournament. I apologize about not getting on last night and updating, but I was just way too tired, annoyed, downright

angry, and felt that Friday needed to be slept off before I could rationally share it with all of you. It was not good, I will forewarn you of that. I mean, it was not too bad either, but for someone of the age of 22, the things I am about to share with you – all that I was told – are almost unbearable. Yesterday morning, my mother and I arrived at the center to find ourselves in the waiting room alone. Thank goodness for early appointments. It is not that I mind a full waiting room; just sometimes the serenity is nice. At half-past daybreak, serenity is nice. So, the day got off to a good start. I received a nice tour of the entire facility, was shown around by Bree, an “oncology specialist” who was very nice and informative and mistakenly showed me the food and beverage area and mistakenly told me there was no limit to what patients can have. Then I went into my appointment and, no joke, at 8:00am was told that the chemo could very realistically make me sterile. This news came to me as a shock. Sterile, no jokes, no laughs, and without help of a sperm bank and artificial whatnot, no kids. One of my main goals in life is to become a father and a husband. Well, let me reiterate that – the best possible husband and father I can be. Oh, and by the way, this is only the start. The doctor came in and really broke the news. I am not in an early stage. In fact, I am in the most advanced stage testicular cancer comes in, Stage III. If this had kept growing for two more months, it would not be life as much as quality of life. My odds got cut back 10-20%, and the real kick was being told that, if I had smoked, shot heroine, and basically treated my body like a war zone and not a temple, the odds of survival would be about the same. It is still between 60-70%, but it irks me knowing that this thing could not have been prevented, and because I am so young, is not affected by diet, exercise, good living habits, etc. I was told I

CHAPTER ONE would be less prone to infection, but the news about healthy living making little difference just bugged me. I was told that later down the road it does matter, so for everyone who lives right, continue. Hopefully it will pay off. I am not done yet. Pending an ultrasound, I may have to have one or both of my testicles removed. I do not know what to think or even say about that. The palate of words that I could use to describe my feelings would probably not be taken tastefully. In just 30 minutes, I found out that my cancer is in its most advanced stage, it may take my family jewels, if it decides to spare them its friend chemo can be more than willing to devalue those same jewels, as well as cause permanent hearing loss, some minute loss of motor skills, lung scarring, as well as the entire baldness, nausea, etc. Now I know all of you are saying, well Adam, it’s not that bad, but my thoughts are about how I’d break this to a girl in the future. I know none of us claim to be superficial and all of us will claim not to be, but these sideeffects are, to be honest, quite embarrassing to someone of my age. It is a shock, too. I hope biologically my body is strong and none of these effects happen. Chemo is a rough ally for a disease that is just beginning to curl my stomach. What thing, what demon preys on sweet old ladies, little kids, and is so tough that it can even stake a claim of parts of the toughest individuals? I am determined to pound this thing into the ground. I am beginning to hate it – and to spite it, I will do anything necessary. That brings me to the treatment phase. Indiana and Pittsburgh treat this the exact same way. The treatments are between four to eight hours daily. It comes in three-week cycles. Week one, which for me starts on Monday, mixes a steady dose of two drugs for four hours a day until Friday. Tuesday, however, it is an eight-hour procedure as I get a third drug. The next two weeks I have

to get that third drug for a four-hour dose. I also have to take injections as home, as well as three other drugs. The co-pay for one the home injections is $1800. It is not going to be an easy battle in any regards. They are letting me take the drugs in an outpatient setting as long as I can manage. The doctor is also letting me train as much as I can, without going overboard. To simplify things, I am receiving the same treatment as a particular biker with the same disease, except I am receiving a drug on top of his dose that will basically give me an excuse to never run a marathon because it harms the productivity of the lungs in long durations. I should be able to wrestle again, given this first round works. If this doesn’t work, there is a plan B, but that is just too miserable to talk about.

To Lighten The Mood

Published April 6, 2008 I guess yesterday’s post was a little serious, and because I cannot be serious for too long at one time, I decided to lighten up a little bit. I mean life is too short to be mad isn’t it? Tomorrow, or today I guess, I get to take another trip to the sperm bank, so if there is a chance I cannot have kids the good old American way (or Russian, Italian etc.) I can have artificial insemination. It makes me feel better about possibly being sterile, but I still do not want to lose anything. Now the trip is at 7:00am. I honestly have all day except for church to go do what I have to do, but my mother insisted the appointment be at 7am. I can assure you that after the Monday appointment at seven, there will be no more appointments that early. I wouldn’t mind getting up at 8am or 9am, but 5:30 comes too early. On that note, let me share an experience. I will keep this G-rated I promise, but it is too funny not to tell. Ask my high school coach, he was crying. So, Friday, after hearing

Jerry Frey Adam’s father Adam was never afraid to wrestle anybody. When he was nine years old, he wrestled in the nine and 10, plus the 11 and 12 age groups. When he was 11, he wrestled 11 and 12 and 13 and 14. He’d wrestle his age group and the next age group up. And, he’d come home with four first-place trophies. Up until he was around 13, Adam was always placing at States but coming up short of winning the title. I was coaching over at Shaler at the time as an assistant at the varsity level and was the head elementary club coach. I remember going to States up in Johnstown with both my sons. Garrett was seven or eight years old and wrestled Shane Young in the finals. Garrett came back from a 5-0 deficit to win 7-6 in overtime. It was a fantastic match. Adam was sitting there and I looked at him and said, ‘Well, your brother just won the first title in the family. What are you going to do?’ He says, ‘Dad, I’m going to kill this kid.’ Jake Strayer was his finals opponent and Adam beat him something like 10-2 to win his first State title. That was fun having both boys as State champions.

everything, I had to take the drive to McGee’s Woman’s Hospital. The sperm bank is there. Being the only patient that was a guy, I felt like they may have well tattooed “going to the sperm bank” on my forehead. So after getting there, I get a key to “Private Room A.” The walk of shame from the reception area to the room was about a quarter mile, through two hospital wings, up a trap door, and beyond the corner off in the horizon (all is true but the trap door). It was long. And everyone knew what I was doing because I had to carry my little test tube the whole way. So, I get into the room, and the whole time I am thinking, now my mother knows. All men know that the last person they want finding out, or even hinting at it, is their mother. I lasted 22 years without a hitch. And my mom’s words of encouragement? ‘Okay hunny, go do what you have to do and make sure you do not miss the tube.’ So, you could see why I was a little tense. I will omit the next part for the sake of everyone. It is too personal, even for me to share. Afterwards, I took the walk of shame all the way back through the labyrinthine halls with all the nurses and doctors staring at me through the room where my mother was waiting to drop it off. Well, in my haste, forgetting to read the directions to leave the specimen in the room cost me big time. I asked where to place my specimen at the front desk and had to take the walk of shame all the way back again. It was miserable. The worst sexual anything I think I have ever had in my life, bar none, hands down. So men, if you ever have to venture into “Private Room A” please, do not be like me – read all of the directions and take notes even. It is the best way. Ladies, if I offend, I apologize. Apparently enough people today convinced me to put this in my blog. And to my mother: you have just scarred me for life without doing anything – just by being somewhat present and removing all doubt that you know why sometimes my door may

CHAPTER

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

CHAPTER ONE

be locked. Yeah, thanks. Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. – Psalm 31:24

I Am Glad You All Thought Yesterday Was Funny…

Published April 7, 2008 I am so glad that you all enjoyed my participation in donating sperm. I really did not enjoy it. Actually, it, coupled with this morning’s trip, rank as two of the worst sexual experiences of my life. Well, I mean, it is pretty funny and I laugh about it too, but… okay, you are right, it’s funny. I go in for a long day tomorrow, an ultrasound of my genitalia, an MRI to check for tumors in my brain, and then finally chemo. This starts, as I said yesterday, at 7am. I broke today with the entire early appointments and I got my mom to schedule the chemo for 11. That means I do not have to wake up until 10 – which is great. Well, it will probably be 9am, because my mother feels that if you are an hour early, you are 30 minutes late. I hear daily about how an earthquake just could strike Pittsburgh for the first time in… forever, and shut down the entire city causing the 15-minute commute to take two hours. And so, we will be leaving before 6am, I believe, for a 7am appointment. I feel that I have dealt with enough hospitals, doctors and surgeons to understand that if you are on time you are an hour early. Just think of the last time you were seen at the time of a regularly-scheduled appointment. Furthermore, if you were taken into the room on time, how long did you count the ceiling tiles? Doctors, no offense, I know you guys are busier than anyone, but it is the truth. And He said to them, “Because of the littleness of your faith; for truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.” –Matthew 17:20

Chapter two

Wake Up, Chemo, Tests, Lift, Eat, Sleep

Published April 9, 2008 Yesterday was the long day, and I felt no different. I learned that my Tuesdays are going to be much shorter on my off weeks, with just a 10-minute injection of chemo and some blood work. The week where I go for five days straight is much longer because I have a two-hour hydration period (one hour both before and after I get my chemo) and a two-hour chemo drip on top of getting my vitals, getting pre-meds so I feel okay. I did have my ultrasound yesterday and, well, I was walking down the hall figuring out how to explain to everyone the experience of having warm gel rubbed, by a woman who was no more than 30 and cute nonetheless, down there. I had to undress and, now completely shameless and scarred from the sperm bank, was lying there thinking, “Down boy, stay down boy, okay good boy.” The results from the test are kind of hazy. My left testicle tested out perfectly. It did not have a mark on it or anything. My right one seems to have a spot on it. It is not a tumor, because it is flat. It looks more like a scar or mark. At least that is what it looked like

to the technician and I will hear the results today. If it is cancerous, I am hoping the chemo will target it so I do not have to get anything… ahem… removed. Even if it needs to be removed, the left testicle apparently produces most of the sperm anyways so the right one I guess can be replaced. It is fine with me. I may ask for a steel replacement just so I can say I have steel balls – or, I should say, ball. Anyways, enough of that – just pray the cancer is not preying there also. The other thing that is amazing is how large my tumor actually was. It is about 1012 pounds which means this year instead of making 141, I was making 129-131 and sometimes wrestling 149. I guess the mystery of why it was so hard for me to make weight was finally revealed. I was carrying an extra one-and-half weight classes in my gut, literally. After the treatment, there is a very good chance that I will have to have extensive surgery to have it removed. I talked to my coach and doctor about the surgery which has to be done because the scar tissue left over – and there is a very high chance that it will be left over – has a very high chance of becoming cancerous again. My doctor wants

25 to be sure, and I do not mind. I understand that this needs to be eliminated. He is going to document everything for me, so I can apply and hopefully get a sixth year of eligibility. My treatment will run until September/October (which is one to two months earlier than originally thought). The surgery will have to be around that time and will then take four months to be able to get on the mat. I would prefer to get strong from the surgery before wrestling again. My life is more important, and I just pray that I can get that sixth year if need be. The good news is that I am expected to make a full recovery and already I am feeling warmth inside where my tumor is. This means that the chemo is taking effect and targeting those cells. So, working chemo and nothing in my brain means I am beating this so far. I just need those prayers and support through the long haul. On that note, I was able to get a good, hard lift in and from getting back to hitting the weights even for just this short time, I am seeing marked improvements. This is just great. I feel like if I can push myself to go lift hard and train through chemo, then later on when my body starts getting worn down, I can cut back on my training and still be steps ahead of my fellow battling peers. As I said before, nothing the size of a grapefruit is going to cause me to stop living my life how I want to live it. It may modify it a little (like I have to stay out of the sun sometimes depending on the medication), but I will not let it change anything. But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. – Isaiah 40:31

Keeping Up

Published April 11, 2008 Today went quite well. I am rolling right

along and cannot wait to be done with this first week. I still have not felt any serious effects. I feel kind of bloated sometimes from all of the fluid, but I think that is normal. I have actually enjoyed my first week in chemo; so many people are upbeat and positive, even in the dreariest of situations. It really turns your perspective on life around when you can draw smiles and even laughs in people that are going through so much with this illness. I have made friends and hopefully shared some hope and inspiration to others and they have shared it with me as well. No bad news at all today – in fact there was more good news. Doctor Appleman came in and told me that the mark on my testicle was, and is, probably cancerous and the stem of the problem; however, it did not develop into anything large and will probably be shooed away by the chemo, leaving my testicle just where it is. We are going to have to watch it, but hopefully “balls of steel” will just be a saying and not a reality. The surgery question is still up in the air, but it has gone from probably to maybe. I like that upgrade… a lot. On that note, to give Doctor Appleman credit throughout this whole process would be an understatement. He researches and studies my disease with a very strict interest and discipline that is unprecedented. When he is not sure about something, he is on the phone with a colleague finding out the exact answer to the best not of his knowledge (which is quite good) but the best knowledge out there. I am glad that I have a doctor who will not give me an estimate, but rather a precise answer and method to counteracting my cancer. He has done a great job and really has earned my trust by learning the ins and outs of not only my illness, but also of me as a person and competitor to find the most effective workout plan and diet to help fight this at all times. Everything is seeming to look up. I just

Dr. Len Appleman adam’s oncologist Adam was a smart, great-spirited patient who gave a very thoughtful approach to his care. Even though he had a terrible diagnosis, he asked a lot of good questions. Some of the things we tried were a direct result of his very own thoughts. He made good decisions. He’d recover from procedures much faster than the average patient. Several times I was amazed that he’d go home from the hospital so quickly – the next day rather than a couple of weeks later. Adam could also tolerate more intense chemo and a lot more treatment than anyone I had ever seen. I was amazed with his unique approach of creating a website within a few days of his initial diagnosis. He wanted to make public his private diagnosis and let the world know what was going on with his treatments and his life. He wanted to share his experience to a far greater degree than I had ever seen with other patients. Adam had a great resolve in the face of adversity. Even with all the treatments he received and the pain he went through, Adam didn’t stop leading his life. He made numerous trips to see his brother wrestle, he got into coaching, went back to school, went out with his friends when he could. It was evident to me that he was not just doing things for himself but an awful lot for his family and friends.

ask you all to keep up the prayers. That said, I do have to say thank you, as my site has had over half a million hits (504,044 to be exact) in just two weeks. I thank each and every one of you, for that is an astounding number of hits and I guess this is bigger than I could ever have imagined. It is great to be able to have the opportunity to reach out and bring awareness to this disease, and I am glad that I have all of you that care. I hope to continue, through my one voice, and one perspective, to make this into a great story – not only for me, but for everyone who has had to step onto the mat, so to speak, against this opponent that no one wants to draw. Tomorrow I am bringing my mother’s homemade St. Louis BBQed short ribs into the nurses and doctors as part of the first week celebration. They have been so great all week long and deserve some good eating. Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. – 1 Corinthians 16:13

Saturday, Saturday

Published April 13, 2008 My half-brother, though never attached, Kris, came down to spend the night and day and we had a great time. Well, I think he did because he didn’t choke on the last hole of putt-putt golf. I did, and heard about it for the rest of the day. Yeah bro, you beat me by a whopping one stroke. And yes, it does get me cranked up just a little bit. Due to the lack of eventfulness today, other than golf which I do not wish to bring up, I feel almost obliged to tell you how I became a half-brother once removed and for those of you who are following the story from the get-go, this is an important piece. I guess most boys will tell you that you make two types of friends in your life. The one type is the type you hit it off with so to speak, you just tend to get along. The other type is that you hit it off, and hit it off, and when the

CHAPTER TWO bruises finally heal, there is a friendship that remains. Kris and I went sort of down the second road, forcibly if you will. After we got into a fight way back in the third grade, our dear mothers decided that we had a lot in common and literally made us hang out. In the time that passed since that initial encounter, Kris has lived at my house, we have trained together, and become more than friends, but to the point that he is a part of the family-so much in fact that he has a key to our house and it is not out of the ordinary to run into him stopping by during the day. Now anybody that knows Kris and I both well know that the two of us together can function as one normal individual. You see, sometimes I am too intelligent for common sense, yet Kris is sometimes much too obsessed with the obvious to delve into the cerebral part of things. So, my parents would always be happy that Kris was around because it kept me out of some of the really odd “situations” I would get in and also kept him out of the odd situations he would get in. I guess that is the end of the story. I got in a fight, came out of it with a brother, and he beat me by one lousy stroke in putt-putt golf today. I can assure you I will be training to avenge that defeat. A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. – Proverbs 18:24

Not To Advertise, But Buy A Shirt!

Published April 17, 2008 I finally got it up, sort of, mostly. The design for the T-shirts is up – well for the black and white ones. The pink and black design will be up tomorrow along with an online order form. Danielle is the internet wizard, and I could not get in touch with her today, so I went ahead with my elementary knowledge and put up basically the meat and

potatoes under the gear section on my web page. I am confident a more… refined... look will be underway. In other events, I have apparently a pretty big article in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review coming out on my whole story on Sunday. I will link the story to the site when it comes out. To further things, tomorrow has turned from a regular lift into sort of a photo shoot. They decided that the gym would be a better place to take pictures than the cancer center, and I really do not mind. Being the semi-vain and self-conscious person that I am, I do prefer having the cameras flashing while I am in some tight, cut-off shirt, biceps bulging, to sitting in the chemo ward sporting an IV. In response, the owner of the gym, who is a great guy and very close to Nick, decided to mark off our own area for the camera guy. I probably am making a big deal out of nothing, but if it becomes something, Nick and I decided to make sure we look good. Speaking of Nick, I will let you in on some background. We have lived, oh down a hill and across the road (50 yards) from each other our entire life. So close in fact that from my house on the hill, an accurately-launched water balloon could hit him standing in the front yard…not like I ever tried to do that, or that he knows I tried to do that, or well, it was years ago and it was on a hot day. I guess I better tell him that I tried to do that one day. Anyways, we have been really tight buddies since our first day of kindergarten. Nick, unlike Kris, was a friend that I just hit it off with. We seemed to have a lot in common, well, not really, but I guess so, in a way. Let me explain. Nick was (selfadmittedly) the fat kid growing up and I was (a little harder to admit) the smallest kid in the class that sported bottle-cap glasses. So, as some people are destined to, we just ended up getting along great while kind of on the outside for a little bit until we came into our own later on. We really were some tandem.

school and I started working 28 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION grade OF BLOGS & STORIES Kris Kersey for Adam’s dad when I was 14 – Adam Adam’s lifelong friend

I met Adam in first grade but it took a couple of years for us to become good friends. I think it was in third grade – we were playing kickball and got into an argument about someone being safe or out at the plate. I threw the ball in his face and he punched me in the face. Our mothers talked with each other and decided that the best way for us to make up was for me to go over to the Freys’ house for a sleep-over. When I got there Adam’s dad took us down to the basement wrestling room and told us, ‘If you guys have a problem, you better take care of it here.’ We wrestled around on the mat and were still going at it after a couple of hours when Adam’s mom called down and said, ‘Hey, boys, time for dinner.’ That’s when we both realized that neither one of us was going to quit. We hung out a lot together all through

and I both were working for him at his construction company. We were gofers and helped with the shingling and siding and stuff like that. One day when we were converting someone’s porch into a sunroom we took our lunch break and saw there was a real nice horseshoe set in the yard. So we played some horseshoe games while slowly eating our lunch. Adam’s dad screams over to us, ‘Hey, five minutes, wrap it up.’ Well, Adam and I look at each other and decided that if we’d start wrestling we wouldn’t have to go back to work. If we were practicing, Adam’s dad would let us do that instead of the pickup work. So, we probably wrestled for a good half-hour before going back to work. Wrestling always took priority with the Freys. It was about that same year that I was having some difficult times in my life. I’d be over at Adam’s house almost daily and we’d talk a lot. Adam was truly the first person that got me to fully find my faith in the Lord and be able to ask for forgiveness. Adam was there for me when I needed help That summer was a big turning point in our relationship. After that we saw each other as more than friends. It got to a point where we were like brothers. We kept that kind of relationship even after Adam went off to school at Blair and I stayed in Shaler doing what I was doing. That separation showed us how close we really were. He’d come back home on his breaks, call me, I’d go over to his house, we’d hang out together and it was like we never missed a beat. Our friendship would instantly pick right back up. It was like that our entire high school and college life.

CHAPTER TWO As fate would have it 16 years later I found a pretty good niche wrestling and Nick is a top bodybuilder who is anything but chubby. I guess puberty works wonders sometimes. Back to the story. I really am glad to have come across such a good-hearted genuine kid. Not many people would take the time and have the patience and understanding to not only train for a highly competitive bodybuilding show, but do it and have trust in a kid as his training partner that is going through chemo. I may not be a normal person going through chemo, but still, there are days when I may have to bail. It is just the nature of the beast. Yet it is great to have a friend that is willing to selflessly put their goals aside to help you keep your wits and shape. I can tell you that you just don’t find many Nick Moras in the world, just like you don’t find many Kris Kerseys in the world, just like you do not find many of the other people I hope to sketch as this life story progresses. I hope these descriptions help to paint the picture of some of the friends that I hold near and dear. Surely, their support and selflessness plays an enormous part in my dealing with this cancer so well. Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls for he has no one to help him up. – Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Why Do Dogs Scare Pizza Men?

Published April 18, 2008 All day long I have been asking myself why dogs so aggressively bark and snarl at the pizza guy. I mean, I have some smart dogs. In fact they are both too darn smart for their own good. I have a puppy that taught himself how to break into cars just because he likes going for rides. I have a German shepherd that learned how to break into the refrigerator among other things. Imagine going into

your refrigerator and finding the entire two bottom levels cleared out. It was so amazing that it took us about a week to figure out that Zeus was stealing all of our food out of the refrigerator. It took longer for us to get it through his stubborn streak that he was not allowed to do that. Anyways, I have some smart pets, but why, when the deliverer of all things wonderful to dogs arrives must they go nuts. I am sure they smell the food. In fact, I know they know exactly what it is because they both follow me begging before I open the box. It is a pretty tough question. You know, if I were a dog I would welcome the pizza man – hell, I would bring him a toy as an act of thankfulness. That’s just me though. Tonight I got a shot in my butt from my mom. Now, I love my mother. I really do. I sometimes poke fun at her expense, but I assure you, getting a shot in your backside by your mother is not really fun. Especially when your mom isn’t quite the shot-giving expert. In fact, I would compare it to having to moon your mother while she sticks what feels like a bullet in your rear end. I mean, I think she gets joy out of it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see what looked to be a Roger Clemens pitching motion followed by the pinch and stick of an inch-long needle striking its mark into my right buttock. I bled for a good three minutes afterwards. I swear, this whole cancer thing has just taken all shame and humility out of me. The moments I get to share with my mother, whether it be going to the sperm bank, getting a shot in the butt, or the nightmare of her having to change my bandages if I do in fact have to get surgery in that “region.” This leads me to think that I should start fundraising for the therapy I am going to need afterwards. And you know, the whole “Adam I changed your diapers when you were a baby” line DOES NOT make me feel any better at all. Mom, news for you: 22 years has led to some “drastic” changes that I

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

just want to keep to myself. No more details, no more mental images. Gentlemen, the next time you see your mother, give her a hug and think, “Well at least she doesn’t know what Mrs. Frey knows.” Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called. – 1 Timothy 6:12

Tiger, Meet The Lion!

Published April 25, 2008 Today I actually awoke before noon, and am still going strong 15 hours later. This is pretty good, because usually I am pretty tired, but that is OK. I had an awesome day, start to finish. My Uncle Jeff woke me up with a chicken parm sandwich to start the day, and let me tell you that any day I wake up with food is a good day. After that, I shaved for probably the last time. I tried to be cool and shave a straightup Fu-Man-Chu, but after I did it, and I took my time in doing it, I wiped the outline with my hand and part of it fell out. Here I am, sitting in front of a mirror, with a half of a Fu-Man-Chu. I looked like the result of a prank. Bad karma for all of those I have committed, I guess. So, I ended up going with the traditional Mr. Clean look, which, I guess, most people think looks good, so I will run with it. By 3pm, I was at a Par 3 with my buddy Mike. Well Mike decided to leave our clubs at home, because the rental clubs at the Par 3 are better to… have fun with. So we get there and the clubhouse thing is closed and there is a sign saying: “We will collect when you are out on the course, sorry there are no clubs to rent.” Sitting there were two sets of clubs, nine-irons and an accompanying putter. So, we decided to borrow some balls that were errantly hit on the neighboring driving range and there we are at the first tee ready to have a good time. Only then we realized that those

clubs were left-handed. Yes, try golfing lefthanded. It was comedic. I mean it was the hardest I must have laughed in a long time. I was not too bad, though. In fact, I actually laid one up one foot from the hole and tapped in my birdie putt. I would love to see Mr. Tiger Woods do that one lefty. I should tell Gatorade to give me my own line – Lion. My motto will be: Putting balls in cups while attempting to keep mine out of a surgical cup. Big-time seller. Tomorrow marks one month since being diagnosed. I guess I will have to come up with some special edition or something. Right now I feel so good it is like I am not even sick. I do not feel sick. Maybe a little sick in the head, but I guess that is to be expected. My mother actually jokingly questioned the doctor about my brain after the CT scan was done. She asked if they found any abnormalities. I am glad they didn’t go back and check. Say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.’ – Isaiah 35:4

Life In Perspective

Published April 27, 2008 Today was a great day. The party I went to tonight was just fabulous. I do have some pictures of my grass skirt and outfit, but nonetheless, it was a great time. It has been one month since my accident. I go to parties and I see people upset. Perfectly healthy, perfectly fine people – in essence, how I was, or seemingly was, about a month ago. These same people are upset over things that in the realm of life may not mean anything. In fact, I will go so far as saying they do not. I have been through some relationships that were just miserable. They hurt, broke me down in every way, and it seemed like when enough daggers were tossed my way,

CHAPTER

‘Uncle Jeff’ Krespin FAMILY FRIEND I’ve been a friend of Adam’s dad, Jerry, since our scholastic days at North Penn high school in the 70s and have known Adam from the day he was born. I wasn’t a blood relative but I was so close to Adam and his family that he called me Uncle Jeff. We always had a connection. I watched him grow up and ever since he was six or seven he’d always try to get me with a single leg. Now I weigh around 210 pounds so in the early years I’d just drag him around from room to room. Fortunately for me, I didn’t mix it up with him when he got stronger during his Blair and Cornell years. Probably the most amazing thing I recall about Adam was his incredible strength. The Freys had a long rope attached to the oak tree on the front lawn. Adam climbed it all the time and one day when he was well conditioned – it was a few years before he got sick – he said, ‘Uncle Jeff, watch this.’ Adam actually put one hand on the rope and raised his body laterally so that he was hanging from the rope sideways. He had no problem doing that. When he got down he asked me, ‘Can you do that, Uncle Jeff?’ I said ‘Sure, I can do that, but right now I have to run some errands.’ And he laughed. Adam was like the son I never had. I loved the kid.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

the deathblow was in the hands of that girl waiting to be delivered. I do not hold any hard feelings, and in fact some of those same girls are now very close friends. It just was not the time, or the person. Tonight, with the help of everyone’s favorite agitator, beer, those same issues arose. Why am I talking about relationships? I feel enough people read this who are college students and high school students, and maybe this will help to put things into perspective for you all. Those of you that are going strong, God bless, and maybe this will help in another way. I understand that breakups are hard. I understand that fights are hard. I have gone through my share of both, and I have torn myself up something fierce over both. I hope that I can pass on to you what I have come to realize without you having to go through what I experienced. Since my whole cancer and accident, I learned what true happiness was. In essence, it is understanding that each day is a gift from God. It is a privilege and not a right. Also, it is a day that should be used to better yourself and those around you in every way possible. I am far from perfect and I fall short of this goal every day. Everyone probably does, but I can promise you, if you consider what some people go through, you can understand that most things that turn a day sour should not. It honestly takes trials to build strength. Fire purifies iron and makes it stronger. Tribulations that test the mind and soul condition those parts to be smarter and stronger. It takes heartbreak to be able to truly love. It takes the absence of something to truly understand its value. However, in looking at these things objectively, they are painful emotionally but objectively learning experiences that allow us to grow as individuals. For example: I am glad that I got cancer. For me, facing death was the only way to see how great life really was. The cancer caused

me to learn about those who truly care about me, to learn what really did not matter in life, and to learn truly what a great gift every day is. In a hypocritical manner, I surely will have bad days in the future, as will we all. Bad things happen to everyone, it is how we get through those things that make us great beings. Cancer taught me this. I do not like playing the cancer card, if you will, but you learn very fast when you are against the grim reaper and up against the ropes what truly is important. That is God, family, and friends. If someone wants to cause you adversity and cause you anger and sustained pain, then they probably are not right for you… unless you are a glutton for punishment. In the short term, it may hurt, yet in the long run it is a positive transition for something or someone better down the road. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. It sincerely does. So, for all of you out there, understand that there is no reason to be bummed over an ex, or to let it bother you. It is easier said than done. Fights are a natural part of relationships and hardships make them grow stronger. Yet they are to be resolved, to be moved on from, and to be compromised. They should not ruin a night with friends, or a party, or ruin a temperament. Remember that each day is a blessing, and use it for the best. Understand that God is always listening, and your family and friends are there lending an ear too. If they won’t, send me an email, I will. These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. – John 16:33

I Lied, Well Sort Of

Published April 30, 2008 The low tumor marker was the result of last Tuesday. It is no longer 779, it is 44 as of Monday and almost certainly about half of

CHAPTER TWO that today. I should be clinically free of cancer in a week. Other than my mother making an awesome lasagna that I was able to steal a good bit of for the people in the center, yesterday was the same as most other days – chemo, nap, lift, Penguins game. The lasagna was amazing, and is something that when she makes it gets eaten three times a day every day until it is gone. I go through a tray a week easily. The Pens are now 7-0 in the playoffs and are playing well, finding ways to win. I guess that is what life comes down to at times, finding ways to win. Even when it is not your best day, how do you get the job done? What trick is in the bag? For the last month, I have been passionate about beating cancer. Destroying it. It was my goal, my motivation, everything I guess you could say, and rightfully so. Beat cancer, spread the word, make it positive. That was my idea. Now, that it is almost beaten, my mind is starting to shift a little bit onto other things – obstacles, and other game plans I guess you could say. I guess I need a tranquillizer to turn it off sometimes. I guess that is just life. Honestly, it’s pretty good. I have learned a lot, overcome a lot, and I think have done a ton of good. There is still more to do. Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. – Psalm 24:14

Chapter three

Here It Goes

Published on May, 2008 This week was a rough week. It was long, exhausting, mentally and physically draining and it cased me to start thinking. I was always told that when I think I am dangerous. I do not want any pity, or sympathy, or really anything. Well, I take that back. I want support, or maybe for something good to just randomly pop up. Not to try to rewrite God’s plans, but I would not mind if something good sort of unexpectedly fell onto my lap. I feel almost envious of sorts towards other people. People my age, out, having fun, happy, able to do what they want, as I am sitting here getting chemo, fighting for my life at the age of 22. I know it is a fight I will win, but it is sometimes the thought that drives me utterly insane. The whole life isn’t fair and why do bad things happen to good people and everything becomes clearer in my mind day by day. I am far from perfect, very far from perfect. But I have spent, since being 20, over a year rehabbing from surgeries and now fighting cancer. At some point even the most optimistic people look and go, “C’mon, isn’t this a little overkill?”

I guess this week is kind of pushing that point. The chemo is really taking a toll on me. It is draining; those little side-effects are starting to creep up on me. My fingertips are going numb. I am dropping things and it is frustrating to drop this and that, get poked with needles, feel tired. The chills and nausea is kicking in more and more. My hair is gone, my eyelashes are falling fast (which means I get so much stuff in my eyes). Worst of all, I just am starting to feel the emotional and mental drain of everything more and more every day. I know that most of the things we want in life just do not happen. I wouldn’t mind having a few, though. I would not mind being able to know that I will be able to wrestle the way I could, when I was atop my game. I wouldn’t mind finding that right girl. I wouldn’t mind not having to just fight so hard to claw my way to what success may be, just to have something completely out of the ordinary pull me right back down. I wouldn’t mind smiling. I have not really smiled this week much. I hide it, I really do. But, at the same time, I guess I just need to vent. I have gotten great news, but I look at it as how strange is this news. I am going through something that is

35 bizarre to even have. And good news always has a flipside now. The surgery still possibly looms, the chance of not getting it all, the chance of it coming back. I mean, I am a pretty tough cookie, but there has to be a limit to what this 5-7, 170lb body can take. There is definitely a limit on what my mind and heart can take. I feel like my back is pressing against that point. Maybe I have to lower my expectations of what I consider to be good in life, or good for me. Maybe the old adage is true for me. If I did not have good luck I would have no luck at all. I know that this opened up a lot of good opportunities for me and I am grateful of that. I am grateful of your support and the cards and emails and everything. I truly am, and please do not take this as anything bad. I am just getting worn down, bored, drained, lifesick (which is my definition for being sick of not being able to have what would be your normal life). I feel like I want to cry, but I just can’t find the lever to let the tears go. I hope that it is just the chemo and the physical strain of that. I hope the weekend brings up my spirits. Hopefully I will be cancer-free and just on supplementary chemo and observation for a while soon. I hope that I can have a life of not looking down at an eight-inch scar reminding me of this battle. I really hope that I can afford this whole thing financially. I hope that in due time I can return to normal, go to school, compete, help others make it through, and be remembered as a good guy. Hopefully when it is all said and done I can look down from above and know that I made a difference – that I was not a failure, even though sometimes I feel like circumstances are forcing me into the abyss of failure against my every will. Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. – Zechariah 9:12

My Feminine Side

Published on May 4, 2008 Today I decided to explore my feminine side with my mother. More on that later. I started off waking up right before being on Takedown Radio, which went quite well. If you missed it, shame shame shame, but I will try to get the feed up on the site so you all can enjoy. In a few weeks I will be making another appearance on the show and I am already excited. It is a great show, Scott Casber does a great job with it and any wrestling enthusiast should definitely take the couple hours to listen to it on Saturdays at www.takedownradio.com. After that, my mother and I went and decided to start getting the shirt orders shipped out. So, there I am, not feeling my best, nauseated, exhausted for some reason, at the zoo that we like to call the post office. Obviously, there were a ton of packages there for us to get out, so what did we do? Like all people, waited in line for the ‘print and ship machine’ to open and then started printing them up. Now, this is where I started to get upset. Some guy asked us, in quite a rude fashion, if we would stop, go to the end of the line, and let him buy stamps. We were on a credit card tab thing, so we could not. Upon telling him this, there was a mutter and a few coarse words directed at my mother and I. Now, say what you want to say about me. But do not dare go off on my dear mother. I apologized that our order may have taken a bit longer, but there was a line that everyone had to wait in. I do not know why that hit such a chord in me, probably because I would be the one waiting in line, but it did. In fact it struck a deep anger in me to the point that I wanted to lay the fists into the guy for his rude and gregarious remarks about us “being !@#$ rude”– it got me started. So, after that, my mom decided the mall would be a great place to go. I like going to the mall. But I never go with my mother. We had

Bob Siar RETIRED COACH in western pennsylvania In all my dealings with Adam I found him to be a dedicated, hard-working young man who did what he needed to do to be successful and make his parents proud of him. Adam and his dad would sometimes come over to practices with the Shaler high school varsity. I also ran a summer program in which Adam participated. When Adam was in seventh grade he had dreams of being a National champion. But the local junior high wrestling program did not function well for Adam. The coach didn’t take the time to work with him, and Adam became disenchanted. I believe that led him to go off to Blair Academy for high school. During school breaks and in the summer, Adam would come by and we’d talk a lot about what you need to do to become successful. He was a good listener. I worked with him on some techniques – like the Iron Cross which some call the West Point ride and tilt – that works well at both the scholastic and Freestyle level. He became very good at that and learned just when to lock his hands legally when taking the opponent to his back. Besides being a good listener, Adam was a good instructor. He took an interest in several young local wrestlers and taught them a variety of techniques, sometimes just little things like putting your hand on the wrist rather than the elbow. Adam was a great young man who intensely loved the sport of wrestling. He was intent on doing everything to the best of his ability.

lunch and she decided to get her nails done. I never was in a nail salon in my life. About three minutes later, there I am, in a sea of estrogen, sitting in the nail salon. To further the process of my sudden intuitiveness to my anima (the female part of the male subconscious, thank you Mr. Kampmann), we figured it would be a good idea to get me a manicure. Heck, maybe it would get some feeling that I lost back into my fingertips. So, now I am sitting in a chair getting my nails worked on with all of these little tools that I didn’t know existed 20 minutes prior to entering this domain. I must say, though, I could be a hand model right now, and it was not an unpleasant experience, despite the smell of chemicals and nail polish which is nothing short of what I experience through the olfactory glands during my chemo anyways. Furthermore, it is Danielle’s birthday, congrats, so I went gift shopping. My idea of a gift for a girl is something funny. Jewelry if it is a significant other, you know, the normal things guys buy women. Nope, I was advised to enter into the world of the Bath and Body Works. For the sake of surprise, I will leave it at that. But I did feel, in about 20 minutes, my testosterone levels drop significantly, and I hope that tomorrow I will not be lactating as well. Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him. – James 1:12

So, An Explanation Of Why I Am In Terrible Shape

Published on May 7, 2008 Today was Tuesday, which meant the whole poke, prod, breathe, bleomycin shot, etc. I found out that about half of my red blood cells decided to die on me. That surely explains why I am out of shape. No red blood

Cindy Frey CHAPTER aDAM’S MOTHER cells, no oxygen to the muscles, no running for Adam. I guess that it’s going to be more of an effort for me to just get about my day than before. I can see that already. I just feel more tired, and I guess I am sleeping a bit too much – like most of the day. I never slept like that in my life. It is not like a lay down and relax, it’s more like me being so comatose that alarm clocks do no good. I do know one thing – it is better than the being up all the time. The big number that I think most were waiting to hear is that tumor marker. It did not drop as much as we had hoped, but is now down to only 20. The magic number is two. When it gets to two, the cancer is deemed clinically dead. The reasons for it starting to drop slowly are a thing that I can not even pronounce, never mind spell. That basically means there are mature, chemo-resistant cells stuck in pockets of this tumor that are basically waving at me and pointing the finger. Hopefully they drift down, if not, well then I have to get that surgery that seems to be playing a bigger part in my mind than the cancer. I really do not want to go through a disembowelment. Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. – 1 Corinthians 16:13

Friday Night Lights

Published on May 10, 2008 for all you Flyers fans out there, sorry. For all you Penguins fans out there, man was it a sweet day for hockey. The good ol’ Penguins are playing quite well, and I may have to hang another banner on my wall (yes, the Penguin Stanley Cup banners are hanging there still). After this morning, the day was good. I got a great lift in, came home, watched the game, and Kris came home. We decided to go out in the city, and had a great time. Pittsburgh, in fact, was voted #1 city to live in the USA. I guess we have it all – nightlife, sports, cleanliness, parks, sights, everything. It is

It was a big decision for all of us to send Adam off to boarding school for his high school education. I got a phone call one evening from Jeff Buxton, the wrestling coach at Blair Academy. He had heard about Adam from some of his wrestling contacts in this area and he wanted to talk with me and Jerry about the merits of sending Adam to boarding school in Blairstown, New Jersey. Well, Jerry was in the hospital at the time, so Jeff just got to talk with me and my first reaction was ‘No, no, no.’ When Jerry came home from the hospital he talked with Jeff and again it was, ‘No, no, no.’ When Jeff asked, ‘Don’t you think you owe it to your son to at least visit our school?’, we finally said ‘okay.’ We filled out the paperwork and drove through a snowstorm to Blairstown for our visit. As we walked around the beautiful campus, Adam’s eyes are lighting up and Jerry whispers to me, ‘He’s coming here whether you like it or not, so get used to it.’ As he approached the wrestling room, Adam says to me, ‘Mom, this is where I want to go to school.’ We told him he’d have to take a test in order to qualify, but grades were never a problem for Adam and he was accepted. I accepted the fact that he was going away to school and actually became very enthused about it. Jerry was quite emotionally upset when we left him off on opening day in September. I told Jerry, ‘Don’t let him see you cry.’ And off went Adam – with his set of golf clubs hanging on his shoulder, headed for the golf course.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

just fantastic to be there. If you never visited the city, I really advise you to. It is a place you should visit, honestly, and I am not saying that just because I live here. On our way home we got fresh baked Mancini’s bread, taken right out of the oven. Pittsburghers, you know exactly what I am talking about. it was warm and delicious. The night as a whole was a great time. I enjoy cutting loose and being a kid sometimes. With the whole cancer thing, I do not get the chance to really do that. It seems to be something that is always playing with my mind and always haunting my dreams. Cancer is pretty scary stuff. I try to make the best of it and I try to downplay it as much as I can. I urge everyone to do everything they can to prevent it. Getting checked regularly is worth it, for everyone, no matter what. The earlier you catch it, the better. Personally, and many cancer patients can agree, this is the hardest thing I ever had to go through mentally, emotionally, and physically. There is a saying –“Once you wrestled, everything in life is easy.” I have to humbly disagree. I am a trained athlete and was once one of the tops. Nothing prepared me for what goes on with this disease, and I encourage everyone to take a more pessimistic view on it and get checked and worry about it instead of reading my words and saying that it won’t happen to them. At 22, I can say that it can happen to everyone. I hope this weekend brings some excitement, and I cannot wait to have my mother get on here and give a little piece of what she gets to go through with her ever-solovely son for Mother’s Day. God: Two sets of footsteps, I was right beside you there. DMX: But what about them times I only saw one. Those were the times that I was under the gun, God: It was then I carried you my son. Led you to safety. It just wasn’t your time to face me.

DMX, The Convo And yes, I know it is not a bible verse this time but rather song lyrics… but they are so true.

Happy Mother’s Day And My Weekend

Published on May 12th, 2008 The family, including Kris, boarded the old Cadillac and drove up to my high school alma mater, Blair Academy, for the traditional Mother’s Day wrestling banquet. We stayed with the Shanamans, like we always do when we go up, and they decided to take us out to dinner, which was swell. They are very good friends of ours and, mind you, have a catwalk upstairs which I think is just sweet looking. While at Blair, I made sure to get a couple slices of my favorite pizza in the whole world at the Gourmet Tomato Pie Company. If you ever drive on I-80 through upstate New Jersey, I urge you to swing by and check out Blairstown. There really is nothing there, but it is interesting nonetheless. In NJ you have people pump your gas for you, and at the gas station in Blairstown, they hire girls in bikinis to pump the gas. Now, there is that aforementioned pizzeria. Lou, the owner, throws one amazing pie and it is almost imperative to stop in and get one. It is the first thing I do whenever I get to Blair. I sit down, chat with Lou, and eat a pizza, and maybe a hoagie, too. Then afterwards, I make my way to whatever I may have to do. After Lou’s and a walk around the old stomping grounds, I showered, relaxed and we all went to dinner. After dinner we came back, hung out, and went to bed. It was a good time, but a six-hour drive is quite draining and the banquet was the next day. Sunday was the regular banquet, which was great. It was also Mother’s Day, so I made for sure I gave my mom an extra big hug, although she doesn’t let me give her the

CHAPTER THREE

Adam with friends at the Blair Academy senior prom in 2005 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and graduating soon after.

Jeff Buxton BLAIR WRESTLING COACH As an eighth-grader Adam applied to Blair. A couple friends of mine who live in the Western Pennsylvania area called me on his behalf. I didn’t know him or hadn’t seen him wrestle. Unfortunately, along with his application, he did not get a good recommendation from one of his math teachers. He was described as an arrogant kid, a difficult kid to teach, a know-it-all. I had a tough time trying to get him accepted into Blair. We brought him back for a second interview and he really impressed me. He sincerely wanted to go to the next level academically – and as a wrestler. He had off-the-charts SAT scores so we knew he had a lot of ability as a student, but I didn’t know how good a wrestler he was. He came for a workout during his visit. Cory Cooperman, our fourtime National Prep champion, was there. They rolled around for a few minutes and Cory gave him a few takedowns. Later, and this shows Adam’s ‘arrogance’, I overheard Adam saying to his dad, “I think I could beat that guy.” Both Cory and I got a good laugh about it. Adam enrolled at Blair for his freshman year and I had him in my math class. The first semester we were talking about the ‘Golden Ratio.’ He was able to fully describe the ratio. He had seen a feature about it on the PBS channel a year ago and it fascinated him. I was amazed that an eighth-grader knew what the Ratio was. That’s the kind of mind Adam had. He could think outside the box much more than the normal student.

squeeze. I guess I squeeze too hard. It was great seeing everyone on the team and the parents and everything. It was even more amazing to see the freshmen in my senior year all grown up. To highlight it, the kid I wrestled with, and I like to think mentored a bit, is now the #1 recruit in the country, Mario Mason. Another graduating senior decided to try his hand at wrestling at the #1 school in the country. Steve Hanzlick had his bumps for sure, but to think he is going to college to wrestle after just trying it out in high school. My favorite story is a Maryland-bound senior that I talked into coming onto the team. Kyle Hanson was and is an all-state football player. The 325-pound freshman back in the day let it slip one day that he wrestled a long time ago and quit because he got too big. We talked him into coming out and his first year he worked on losing 50 pounds and was able to wrestle a match at 275. I always thought it would make him a better football player. I mean, football is life to a guy that big and that athletic. After becoming the starter his last two years and being nationally ranked, I was still shocked to hear that he decided to go to college… to wrestle. I do not remember Kyle the elder – I still see the picture of me running this baby-faced kid around a track in sweats trying to cut him down to 275. I remember even more clearly him sweaty and out of breathe, looking at me and saying, “Adam, you know, um, this really really sucks.” When he hit the weight he was in tears. Now he is on a wrestling tear. It is stories like this that make you feel good about something. It felt good when his father thanked me for talking him into wrestling in the first place. Needless to say the picnic was at the Hansons’ house and it was great: big yard, infinity pool, which was really sweet, good food, and a very comfortable couch. I start to wear out after a little bit and was in desperate need of a nap after falling asleep at a picnic

CHAPTER THREE table. The couch I slept on was awesome. After the picnic, the last half being a dream, literally, we went back to Blair and met my brother’s girlfriend before swinging by to say hey to my old high school adviser, Dr. Sayers. Now Doc, as everyone affectionately calls him, may be the most intelligent human being I ever encountered. He was the inventor of the carbon coating for the space shuttle. When it comes to Quantum Mechanics, Chemistry, Math, English, Latin, Astrophysics and building rockets, he is usually my go-to. In fact, I jokingly asked him one time in this library he has in his house if he read the 15-foot-high shelved books that fill his living room. He replied in all seriousness, “All of them.” The man is so intelligent that he would decipher two AP Chemistry problems and answer questions at the same time by writing with both hands. I go to an Ivy League school, and I am by no means an idiot, and he is still the most intelligent person I have ever had the pleasure of speaking to. Furthermore, he is one of the most caring people I have ever been around. He was my high school adviser while I was at Blair and is my brother’s high school adviser currently. Whenever there was ever a problem, or whenever I needed to go to someone, he was there and did his best all the time. To see how tireless the guy was and how much he actually did is amazing. So, thanks Doc. Anyways, the Pens won again. I am not going to predict anything, because I remember the time I bought a broom and they lost the next four straight. Maybe if we go up 3-0. Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honour thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise. – Ephesians 6:1-2

First The Bad, Then The Good

Published on May 14th, 2008 I should be happy right now, but I am

not. In fact, I should be celebrating, but I am saddened. Today it was announced that the Arizona State wrestling team will be no more. It was, along with two other sports, dropped for “budget costs.” This does not make any sense to me. The likes of Title IX as well as these ridiculous cuts have ravaged a sport that many people love. For me, wrestling is the only sport I could ever be competitive in. I consider myself a fine athlete, but at only 5’7” I would never be able to play basketball or football, I’m a little small for hockey, and baseball players are all over 6’0”. I fall into a category that leaves me only a few options: wrestling or bench. Wrestlers, mind you, are some of the finest athletes you will ever come across. If you ever watched a match and see what these young men can do, it is shocking to realize a human body can contort in such mannerisms. The student-athlete is a role model for others. They work hard in the classroom, they compete and represent their school with guts and determination. They deserve a chance to be able to compete. They should not be eliminated. As a government major at a worldrenowned government program (Political Science for other universities), I understand the Title IX argument. It has been taken far out of its original context. The deal was to support and create women’s programs. It was never to eliminate opportunities for men. The quotas and other things force elimination of men’s programs and thus opportunities for young men that may not be 6’5” and 350. This is not a knock on football or basketball; this is a knock on the proportionality quotas. In fact, if they want to equalize everything, why are there not 50% of men in home economics classes and why aren’t math classes 50% women? Title IX is very warped and it constantly rears its ugly head towards the wrestling world. We need to focus on creating opportunities, not eliminating them, and

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

leaving kids who worked hard their entire lives without scholarships and thus a college education. It is ridiculous. On a good note, my cancer markers came back today as normal. They are a normal person’s normal. In fact it went from 14,000 to 5.9. Under 10 is considered normal. Note that is not cancer-free. It has to hit zero for that, and it does not change anything with the chemo. I still have two more cycles to go, yet at the halfway point, I am normal. It really made me beam knowing that this is almost dead, and it is under control. With every day, I feel more and more confident knowing that I am going to beat this cancer. I guess I almost already did. By no means am I out of the woods, but if you could shift the prayers to maybe having nothing of that tumor left and no surgery, it would be great. A surgery is going to really set me back, as recovering all of my nerve and motor functions from chemo is going to take me eight months already. The functions include feeling in my fingers. They go numb a lot and I find myself lifting with straps and tying the weight into my hands more and more. Sometimes I just cannot feel the bar. I really also am getting the itch to get back on the mat. They are mailing me a special helmet from Cornell so I do not sustain any aneurysms from blows to the head. That is another reason it is going to take some time to get back into the swing of things. I cannot get hit hard in the head, nor do I have the stamina to compete. I just hope to be able to drill and coach and help out in any way that I can. It will be great to get back on the mat again. I really do miss it. I hope in time my blood will thicken, my counts normalize, and life becomes merry. It should – it will just take time. Other than that, I do not know what more to say. Oh victory in Jesus, my savior forever.

Party Time

Published on May 18th, 2008 I had my party for Nick with some friends and it basically was a normal party. I will leave it at that. Anyways, I do have a funny story from Friday night. I go to pick up a friend on the way to dinner with Nick. Gas is $4 a gallon, so we carpool now. I have more expensive things to pay for… like chemo and my life, so yeah. Now, I feel it is the honorable thing to actually go to the door and introduce yourself to the parents and whatever, just the way I was taught. So I go up and introduce myself and what not, and through conversation find out that this girl’s mother was my seventh-grade science teacher. To say I was not a rule-abiding seventh-grader is an understatement. I was bad… well, not bad, but mischievous. So mischievous that the lady remembered, much to my embarrassment, who I was. Needless to say I had a lot of explaining to do and a lot of apologizing, even though there probably was no need. Yeah, awkward. Very awkward. Who thought picking up a friend for dinner would turn into a, “I cannot believe that” conversation. So, little kids, it is a small world out there and be nice to your teachers and be good in class. Take it from me, you do not want to be sitting there explaining that you straightened up and go to an Ivy League school to someone’s mom. It is a very hard conversation to have. Even if it goes well, it doesn’t seem to go well, so trust me, it is a small world and God does have a sense of humor. Irony is God’s sense of humor. – Adam Frey… had to call myself out on that one – I think it is that good.

Third Period

Published on May 23rd, 2008 Thursday was hard. Chemo left me in for another loop and my appetite has gone to hell

Garrett Frey adam’s brother Adam was tough. Without a doubt, tough. He was tough in all aspects. He handled pain at a level like no one I’ve ever seen. He was tough on me as his little brother – all for good reasons. Now that he’s gone, I do understand why. He was always trying to make me better. When I was in junior high, he’d grab me and make me stay after practices to wrestle with him. He’d make me carry him while doing sprints until I couldn’t go any more. Adam coached me a lot back then. There were a bunch of matches that I won because of him, even though my dad wouldn’t let him be in my corner since there was always a chance we’d get into a fight. I was really stubborn and he was, too, so we ended up fighting a lot. He taught me to never back down and to settle things right there, so once we had our fight, there was no carryover, no grudges. On the other hand, he wanted me to have fun and would let me tag along at times when he went out with his friends. Overall, we got along really well. Growing up we wrestled at different clubs – the Pitt Wrestling Club, AllAmerican, Cobras and Woodland Hills. In seventh grade Adam was undefeated and unscored upon. At the end of the year Adam and five other kids from Shaler were in the finals of this tournament. Adam was the only one that won. For that he got a jacket and a week later he wore it to school. The other five kids didn’t like that and jumped him. Since Adam was the smallest on the team, he got beaten up. After that, my dad said, ‘You’re never wrestling for Shaler again.’ Adam transferred to a catholic school after that year. He repeated seventh grade because he was really small and he wasn’t sure he’d

make the cutoff to wrestle 103. He was 43 CHAPTER weighing just 75 pounds. He had his big growth spurt in eighth and ninth grades and ended up being a 112-pounder. Adam’s leaving Shaler and transferring to the catholic school all worked out for the best; if he had stayed at Shaler, he might never have gone to Blair. I thought it was really cool when Adam went off to boarding school. I felt that Blair was the right choice for him – where he had to be. I never really thought twice

Garrett Frey wrestled for Blair and is now competing for Princeton University.

about it. I always figured that once he went there that I would go there when my turn came. Blair not only helped him become a better wrestler, it also helped him academically. Adam was always bright, but Blair helped him get to the next level. But what Blair really helped him do, it really helped him develop into the person that he was, a leader watching out after his teammates and making sure they’re not getting into trouble, making sure they were doing the right thing. He was very passionate about that.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

in a hand basket. Here is what the deal is. The less cancer, the more good cells the chemo attacks. The more good cells getting beaten up, the worse I feel. Right now, I am just saying my prayers and hoping the needle goes in fast and I get through today, tonight, and start recovering from this long week. Most of it is not even the feeling ill part. I can deal with that decently well. I get the shakes really bad for hours. It is hard to sleep, but even harder to wake up. My mood swings sometimes. It is almost like it is out of my control. The doctor told me it is the steroids I am on that cause the shaking, anxiousness, mood swings, and inability to sleep. I just wish it would stop. It is like shivering in a 85-degree room while sweat pours from everywhere while you have goosebumps. All while feeling sick and trying to slow a racing mind to get some shut-eye every night. I am so glad that it is almost over… for this cycle that is. I have 10 left to go. Then I am done with chemo, which is quickly becoming the most nerve-wracking and hardest thing mentally, physically, and emotionally I have ever done. Ten needles, eight if you disallow the times I suffer through having it in overnight, which is more miserable than having it put in and taken out. It comes out to about only two and a half days straight of sitting in a chair hooked up to poison in that hospital. Sixty hours. That’s all I need to be tough for to get through this. I think it’s time for me to just suck it up, dig it deep. It’s the third period. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. – Ephesians 6:14-16

A Lot To Talk About

Published on May 26, 2008 I apologize about missing yesterday’s post, but I ended up at my friend’s house in his spare bedroom, which has no windows. It resembles a coffin or something because there is no light that gets in. Along with no clock I slept for about 15 hours straight. I really needed it, though. As soon as I woke up, I was hungry, energized, and felt like my normal self. I ate a sirloin steak and eight eggs… easily. It was good, really good. It is nice to have an appetite after eating this whole week was such a challenge. I went out Saturday night, discovered I can ride the heck out of a mechanical bull, and fell asleep in my buddy Brett’s spare bedroom. I awoke to find his family up and already mostly through the day and me wondering why it still felt like 8am. After getting up, eating, getting back to my place, and doing some things, it was time for my other buddy’s grad party. My deal was being the designated driver, and as for now it is kind of a default because I cannot drink while on the chemo anyways. So, my man Kap graduated from Pitt, had a little party, then we decided to go out and see what was happening downtown. So, we went downtown, hung out, went clubbin’, the normal, and finished the night off with Primanti’s. Now, Primanti’s is probably the most amazing place on the planet. It is an older restaurant that is almost unexplainable. You just have to go there and understand it for yourself. Pittsburghers know what I am talking about. It is comparable to Pat’s in Philadelphia, but better. They make sandwiches… all day… and all day it is full… and the sandwiches are, in my honest and usually accurate opinion, the best. In fact, Primanti’s is so good that I have taken dates out to get a sandwich and not once was it not regarded as a highlight of the night. So ladies, my big romantic end to a date is probably a

CHAPTER THREE sandwich with cole slaw and French fries… sorry to ruin the surprise. That was basically the short version of the weekend. I quickened it up because I want to say a piece about Memorial Day. It is an honor to be an American and to have the freedoms, liberties, and rights that we do have because of those so many who sacrificed. I think we all, amidst the parties, food, and drink, should take the time to actually reflect somberly on all of those who gave their lives so we may have the freedoms we do have. There are many things that we may not like about today’s society, such as gas prices, but at the same time, we must understand and be thankful that our society has influence on our government, unlike many other places in the world. We really do have it great here in this nation and a lot of that goes to those people who we will never be able to thank in person, who sacrificed themselves for our well being. Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. – 2 Timothy 2:3

Back To The Old Self

Published on May 31st, 2008 I do not know what it was, but man I felt awesome today. Just like my old self. There was no hesitation to eat, I felt like an animal in the gym, felt great all over. My day consisted of hanging around the house and then taking Garrett for a little driving lesson. I mean, taking Garrett driving is about as scary as cancer. It is nerve-wracking teaching someone how to drive in the big boat of a ’99 Cadillac. I was nervous and while we are driving 25 in a 40 I am getting the old, “Don’t worry bro, I am fine, I drive all the time.” No, after being at a boarding school, no G, you do not drive all the time, in fact you do not drive at all. I got chauffeured to lift with my brother and we threw down some weights. I, for the first time in a long time, felt strong, and good,

and tough. It is nice to finally feel decent and good. I just can’t wait to get back on the mat again and start drilling. My brother got a sense of what his summer training program is going to look like when he was about to leave the gym and I said, “Nope, treadmill”. It was almost enjoyable to put him through a little workout I like to call the increasing incline. I start at zero and every 30 seconds it goes up a degree. By the time the thing is up the entire way, anyone is hurting. I ran G until he fell into my arms off the back of the treadmill and collapsed on the floor. Needless to say it was great that he was too tired to drive home, so I got to drive safely home. Rest is a good thing, but boredom is its brother. – Lao-tzi

Chapter 4

The Number Zero

Published on June 4, 2008 Throughout my life I have fought all sorts of battles in all sorts of ways. Out of that natural God-given ability, I became a very accomplished wrestler. On March 26, 2008 I was in what should have been a fatal car accident. That same day they found tumors in my liver, lung and between my kidneys. Two days later I was diagnosed with cancer. Eight days later I was told that I had a coin-flip chance of living, as my cancer was in its most advanced stages, including a tumor that weighed about twelve pounds. That following Monday I began chemotherapy. Nine weeks and one day after beginning that process it is June 3, 2008. It is today that I can proudly say that I beat cancer. It is undetectable and my tumor marker is zero. It feels great to sit back and say this: I am a cancer survivor. I have to thank everyone for visiting my site and reading up on my story that is far from done yet. I still have to go through another three weeks of chemo and possibly surgery and all sorts of things before I can reach my goal of going back to school and competing in wrestling again and achieving

the success I feel that I can. I hope you continue to keep coming back and sharing this experience with me. I thank God for pulling me through, my family and friends for being there when I needed them, and for their selflessness. I thank you all for coming along on the rollercoaster I like to call my life these past three months. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.â&#x20AC;&#x201C; John 3:16

Blond

Published on June 6, 2008 All in all today was the same as any other day. There were a couple differences, though. The first thing I noticed was the few little growing hairs on my arms and faceâ&#x20AC;Ś and the fewer sprouting up on my head. Um, here is the strange thing. I went from being a brunette all my life to having bleach-blond sprouts. I do not know if that will continue, but yeah, I am officially, as of right now, a blond. To top it off, my fake spray tan came in quite striped, so now I look really strange. Yeah, I felt really pale and all my friends are getting nice tans so, the boy that cannot be

CHAPTER out in the sun decided to do the old spray tan. Fortunately, it worked and my face at least looks better. Unfortunately, my brother missed stripes of me so… yeah. That is about all I have to say, just had to chase down the puppy, which is always exciting, minus the excitement. See, my puppy is way too fast for anyone to catch, and in too good of shape to tire out. Big Zeus, when he would run, after about 10 minutes he was like, “Okay, I am done, going home, need a nap.” And well he would just come back, get a drink, and lay down with a stupid look on his face. Vulcan, yeah, he runs and runs and runs until he cannot tell which way is home. However, Vulcan loves to ride in the car. So, the only way to catch him is to chase him down in a car, beep the horn, and let him jump inside. Then you have to ride him around a few times and he is fine. It is hard to beep the horn at 3:00am, though. So it ended up being pretty annoying. The little bugger is back safe, though, which is good. We as a family are buying an electric collar for him soon, so when he leaves… well, I guess you could say that the fury of the heavens is going to reign down upon him in the form of a controlled lightning bolt. Lord you are the potter, and I am the clay. [Never thought I would be molded into a blond-haired, dark-skinned Italian.]

Jerry Frey adam’s father One of the times I was so proud of Adam was his junior year while competing at the Nationals in Fargo. He’s wrestling Nathan Morgan, who had knee surgery the year before. During their match, Adam got him in a situation where all Adam has to do is exert pressure on Nathan’s knee to turn him – but if he executes the move, Nathan’s knee is probably gone. Adam holds off and Nathan eventually wins that match by one point. I asked Adam if he realized what he had done. He said he did. Then, as the wrestlers go up on the podium, there’s Adam helping Nathan climb up the podium. That told me that Adam was a good kid.

The Bull And The Horns

Published on June 21, 2008 I fell asleep last night without anything new, but I sure have a lot to talk about tonight. First things first, I had my second round of photos for the Summer Shape-Up program. While undergoing chemotherapy, I have put half-an-inch on my arms, an inch-and-ahalf on my chest, gained an inch on my neck, two inches on my thigh, lost five pounds and three inches in my waist. Mr. Hawk, the program manager if you will and bodybuilding

Nathan Morgan (left) turned out to be an All-American wrestler for Oklahoma State. He is shown wrestling Daniel Dennis from Iowa in 2006. Johnnie Johnson

48 Brinzer ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Ray freestyle and greco wrestling coach Adam Frey’s parents came to me when Adam was in the eighth grade, asking if I could coach and train him at my Angry Fish Wrestling Club. I set out some guidelines and rules for both Adam and his parents. Everyone bought into them – and followed them – so from then on I coached Adam in Freestyle and Greco. You could see right away that Adam had extraordinary potential. But he was a ‘difficult’ athlete and by ‘difficult’ I don’t mean that in a negative way. It just wasn’t that easy to get that potential to come to its fullest fruits. You’d have to spend time with him, year after year, to see how things worked. We’d take him to Junior Nationals and we’d watch what happened. His legs would wear out. You’d see him start to tank. He was perhaps the world’s worst staller. He’d be up by nine points and the next thing you know he loses that same match 11-10. But there was so much potential there I knew the payout could eventually be enormous. We knew in the spring going into Junior Nationals after Adam’s senior year that we had to get Adam into phenomenal shape. We had to overload his legs time and again. It was a lot of things that I learned while wrestling at Iowa and now applied them to Adam’s training regime. There was one day after practice that I made Adam run the long brutal staircase by the wrestling room at North Alleghany. I told Adam, ‘We’re doing three.’ Adam says, ‘Only three?’ ‘Yep, just three if you do ’em right. But if you screw it up you’re going to start over.’ ‘Okay.’ For the first one I load on his back a

guy about his own size and he blasts on up – about 10 flights of steps. He’s going as fast as he can and I’m chasing him. I tell him, ‘If I catch you, you’re starting over.’ That one was no problem for him – he shows what an athlete he is. He gets a very short rest and then has to carry me for the second run. I get on him and he’s not very happy about this. I tell him that he’s not allowed to stop moving or he has to start over. I’m barking in his ear the whole time but he makes it to the top. Now he’s exhausted. His legs are starting to give out. We walk back down to the bottom and he’s bracing for the pain. I say, ‘Joe Walko, get on him.’ Now Walko weighs about 85 pounds and Adam goes, ‘Walko, really?’ I say ‘Yep.’ Adam says, ‘Oh, thank God.’ I tell him, ‘Adam, I’m going to chase you at a full sprint and if I catch you, you’re going to have to start this whole thing over.’ He just went white. I was a step or two behind him the whole way up. It was absolutely the worst of the three runs – even worse than the plodding of carrying me. But he did it. Adam was well prepared for the Junior Nationals in Fargo. Physically he was ready and we had a good game plan which emphasized – ‘here’s how you win a Nationals title.’ He bought into the plan, but in the back of my mind I knew that he could go off plan and off track at any time. On the way to the finals he had a match with a midwest kid who was very, very physical. As Adam built his lead, the guy got rougher and rougher. I was afraid Adam might lose his focus on wrestling and start fighting. I was

CHAPTER

Ray Brinzer and Josh Liebman at the second annual Adam Frey Classic in 2010 at Rider University, NJ. Danielle Hobeika

hollering at him from the corner to, ‘Keep your cool, just wrestle’ and he did and won the match handily. Besides conditioning, my biggest challenge was getting Adam to continue to attack when he was ahead. In the finals, that almost became a problem. Adam really wanted to win this match and it could have gone either way. He got out to an early lead but then he started backing up and I could see the match going down the drain. I’m yelling, ‘Don’t back up; forward, forward’, as he was trying to protect his lead. With him wanting to back up and me yelling just the opposite, I think we created a balance of at least staying in the middle of the mat. He did the right

things and won the match to become the champion. During the finals match, Adam broke his nose, which didn’t faze him at all. After the match we went with his parents to the emergency room. Everyone was in a celebratory mood, the whole family really happy – which never happens in an emergency room, I’m sure. Anyway, the nurse comes over to check Adam and stares at his smashed nose. She asks Adam, “On a scale of one to 10, how bad is the pain?’ He goes, ‘Oh a two, maybe a three.’ Her jaw drops and she has to ask again, saying that 10 is really bad pain, two is little pain. He just smiled at her. He was just that tough a person.”

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

legend, was very happy and the results are great. I am very glad for that and hopefully in the next five weeks I can continue on those improvements. I actually went out on a date last night, and it was just awesome. We went out to the Cabana bar, and it was an amazing night to just chill by the fire, talk, sip on some drinks and hang out. My buddies rolled in a little later and we all just had a swell time. I am sure there will be some more dates, and sometime soon I will, with her permission, give a little play-by-play of a date, you know, to get some feedback, improve on my flaws (understand that as a joke, kinda). That was yesterday, today was good fun as I helped my nurse from chemo pack up her apartment and prepare for the move back to Ohio. Fortunately, we were able to get everything packed up quickly, but moving couches up flights of stairs means two things… insane amounts of sweat and tired legs. It was okay, and even kind of fun. I did feel like I kind of owe her because she made my stay at the hospital very easy every time. It is much better having a nurse also become a friend, one that is my age and who can relate back and forth on life and the whatnot. It really made time go much faster. Fortunately, I only have one more treatment to go. I couldn’t bear the idea of having a long week without her. Kris made his way down after my dad and I went on our daily lift and we went out to the country western bar/club to meet up with the girl I took out last night and her friend. So, they have a mechanical bull, which I personally love to ride and that I know I mentioned in posts beforehand. It only took me doing it to convince Kris that he had to ride the bull to save his manhood. Needless to say he rode valiantly, grabbed the bull by the horns, and upon jumping off got head-butted by the mechanical bull. Hysterically enough, the bull beat his face up and split his eye open. It may have been the funniest thing I have

witnessed in the last five months, seeing his bloody eye. For all of you who may ponder my insensitivity, it is just a small cut and he is perfectly fine, but at the same time, it is hysterical. I mean, seriously, the cancer patient can ride the bull just fine and Kris got head-butted and split his eye open by the bull. That one is a classic. Kris Kersey grabbed the bull by the horns and got his eye busted. Gotta love it. Anyways, I am apparently going to have the distinct pleasure of getting my eye punched in on a golf course tomorrow by Kris’s much better skills, so I need to get my rest to ensure proper blood flow to my cheeks when they light up in embarrassment. I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind, to reward a man according to his conduct, according to what his deeds deserve. – Jeremiah 17:10

It Couldn’t Be That Simple

Published on June 25, 2008 Chemo yesterday really kicked my butt. It had to be the last day, but I guess the weekend put me a little off on how much I normally sleep and my blood work came back very sobering. My tumor marker was again undetectable, but my blood counts were all very low. So low in fact that if this was not my last treatment, they would have postponed it. It took a few tries to get the needle in and it finally went in through that vein in the crook of my elbow which hurt like heck and was very uncomfortable. I was sure glad it was a short day. It is all over now and I begin the two-week detox period before a myriad of tests. If they come back good, I am done with the cancer experience and can start getting back to the circled date in January to return to the mats. If not, well then I guess the cancer road will be a little longer for me with the surgeries and I hope to be back next year. Hopefully I will get

CHAPTER FOUR the medical red-shirt from the NCAA and be able to wrestle for my last two years I have left. For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death. – Psalm 72:12-13

Bronzed

Published on June 29, 2008 Today I took my class or clinic or both to get my Bronze Certification so I can go coach the PA National Team next month out in Fargo. It was very informative and very, very long. It was done by the Ray Brinzer most of the wrestling world knows and loves and it taught me a different perspective in coaching as well as benefiting me as an athlete. The all-day affair lasted about 10 hours. All I have to do now is pass my test which is open notes, open book, so I am sure I will be okay. I am in like Flint as they would say. Friday was a typical lift with my father then go out with my buddies and the girl I am starting to date exclusively. I guess three weeks of hanging out and not annoying me, and likewise and, more importantly, me not annoying her, should lead to something of that sort. She is a good girl, and no one I have brought her around has had anything bad to say about her. Now, I guess I have been burnt, like we all have, in the past, so I have a sort of trials process. To date me, you have to be liked by my family, the whole family, including and most importantly Big Zeus – that 140-pound hunk seems to be the best judge of character you can find. If he likes you and feels comfortable with you, he will let you alone, except for the typical petting and whatnot and actually leave the room to go sleep or whatever. If he does not like you, he will not let you out of his sight. Secondly, he will not let anyone he does not like near me. Also, you have to be accepted by my friends. If they do not like you, peace. I know

that they have my best interests, and I am done having to see things for myself. I would rather have someone at the start say, “Dude, c’mon she is bad news,” than find out she is later on. The later on usually hurts much worse. So, by conversing with my mother and father and friends and dog and brothers, she passed. Should be fun, maybe something will happen from it, maybe it will not. My expectations are lower, but that’s because I want them to be exceeded and because you never know until you venture down the path of the great unknown. Enough on that subject. I am sure Dr. Phil has a better system (contrary to his legal battles with his ex-wife) but that is my system. He trains my hands for battle, So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. – 2 Samuel 22:35

A Tuesday With No Chemo

Published on July 2, 2008 My mother asked me if I knew what tomorrow was. I think she was in the habit of going to chemo on Tuesday. Personally, I could break that habit quicker than most anything else. I told her it was another day to sleep in. I am recovering, though. I can see my hair grow back in a few hues… hoping I do not look like an albino Dennis Rodman, and I even can see my veins starting to take their normal shape and color, although some of those veins still have the scarring from the abuse they took. Hopefully, one can make a recovery from all of the abuse and be ready to be stabbed again in a week from today for my CT scans and tests. Even more hopefully, the tests came back negative. The surgery is really weighing on me heavily. It is the last thing I want to go through, and the side effects are just miserable. The lymph nodes they may have to take may weaken my immune system, which used to be like iron. The eight-inch scar is going to hurt and be just hideous. I will admit I

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

Jeff Buxton BLAIR wrestling coach When he was wrestling Adam could be a seen as having a certain arrogance and I worked with him on that. In his very first wrestling match at Blair he wrestled and beat a kid from El Reno in Oklahoma. As the referee is raising Adam’s hand, he sticks his finger up in the air. I immediately told him, ‘If you ever do that again, I’ll break your finger. We just don’t do things like that at Blair. You don’t embarrass the kid that you are wrestling.’ Adam had that air to him – he liked to play to the crowd, he was emotional and wore his emotions on his sleeve. In Adam’s first year at Blair, he was in the same weight class (112 pounds) as Robbie Preston, a junior who was nationally ranked at the time and a returning National Prep champion. Adam happened to win the first wrestleoff, which put Robbie into a bit of a quandary, being pushed by a freshman. The competition made both of those guys better wrestlers but at the time it was not a very good rivalry. I think it was the first time that both sets of parents had to deal with the situation where their son was not the first guy on the team. I told both parents that you don’t necessarily win every day in life and learning to handle the adversity of not being the starter is not the worse thing in the world. During the course of the year, Adam and Robbie would go back and forth in their wrestle-offs. They both came to me and said, ‘Hey, coach, help me beat this other guy.’ I told them, ‘That’s not my job. My job is to make you a better wrestler and that’s all I’m going to do.’ The competition was great for them.

CHAPTER

Adam was always phenomenally strong, but during that year he became aware of what he needed to do technically to make him more successful. I was able to bring both to some good tournaments, like the Ironman and Beast of the East. There was another one in Virginia, where both of the guys made the finals. The last wrestle-off of the year went Robbie’s way and I took him to the National Preps rather than Adam. The following year they moved to different weight classes and became even better workout partners for each other. Then in college their rivalry resumed, but once it was over I think they had developed into two really good friends.

Going to Blair Academy in northern New Jersey was an unplanned decision by the Frey family, but it turned out to be a wonderful experience for Adam.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

do have some vanity issues, and certainly a scar of that magnitude right down my gut will drive me nuts. In fact, if at all covered, I will be getting plastic surgery on it. I do not want to look in the mirror every day and have to remember what cancer did to me. I just do not want it there. Even worse is the possibility that, due to the location of the tumor, I will lose feeling in a critical area below the belt. I hope I do not need to go into any more details, but honestly, if one thing from this could break me, that would. To lose that for the remainder of my life would drive me insane. I cannot even kid about it. I just cannot. It scares me. In fact, it reminds me of one of those ‘would you rather’ questions that you know probably won’t happen. Like that game everyone played as a little kid, like, “Would you rather eat cow poop or a dead guy’s eye?” type questions. I hope we all, for sake of amusement, played that game. Here is my dilemma: “Would I rather risk losing feeling in that particular area or___?” The blank you can fill in with potentially have to go through chemo again, be burnt at the stake, face a firing squad, etc. I hope you get the idea of how miserable I think this side effect is. These tests and their results scare the heck out of me. Surgery scares me. I know they are miserable; I have had two major surgeries. I do not want to go through a third one in three years. I feel like I have had about enough of this whole cancer thing. I just want to put it behind me and go back to being me. Go back to being the healthy, strong, studious me. Go back to being in school, training, wrestling, and getting on with pursuing life. I know I can never really hide or run from the fact that I had cancer, but getting back on track with where I was sounds quite nice. So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’ – Luke 17:10

Pondering

Published on July 3, 2008 I have had this whole surgery thing on my mind non-stop. It is like cancer… it never mentally goes away. I told my dad about it driving home from lifting and he said not to have it. I talked to some friends and they all said don’t risk something that will make you miserable for the rest of your life. I really am up in the air on this whole thing. I guess I find out Tuesday. My mother wants me to have it done. If I lose feeling there, I would honestly rather be dead. It sounds selfish, but in all honesty, I feel better taking the risk of getting cancer again when I am older than presenting myself with the situation of never getting married, having kids, or even getting turned on… ever. As I said before, and most men will agree, it is like a death sentence. There is a lot of thinking for me to do. Not really until next week, but for me it will be racing through my mind. I am already having nightmares about it. I really do not know how much the camel’s back can take, but I would have stopped stacking straws months ago. I am really stressed about this whole thing. I wish I could just get beyond it and be done with this… my luck, it will not happen. I have come to accept those sorts of things. And we know not of what tomorrow brings. – Betty Purser Patten

Round Two

Published on July 9, 2008 Today was not a very good day. I got my test results back and all three tumors are smaller and the largest one is from the size of a bowling ball to the size of a grapefruit and transparent, meaning it has broken apart. My blood work came back above normal levels and I am apparently as healthy as a horse… except for one big thing. My cancer is back again and apparently

CHAPTER FOUR they think it is chemo-resistant. It is not as bad as what it was when I started, but because the cells are resistant to chemo, it is very serious. So serious that I am going to NY to try to get into an experimental study combining bone marrow and stem cell transplants with a double dose of chemotherapy to fight the cancer. I will be at Sloan-Kettering as an impatient for a few months apparently. The doctor said if I can get into that trial there is a normal success rate of 25-50 percent. Mine, he said, should be higher given the fact that about half of the people die from the intensity of the chemotherapy or cannot finish the chemotherapy and are significantly worse off that I am right now, fitness and health-wise. Right now, I am realistically like 40-60% that I live and the same that I don’t. If I do not get into the trial, the odds are much greater. It is a very scary thing and not the news anyone thought. We all thought it was dead and gone, but it apparently isn’t. My mind has been a blur all day. I do not know what to say, think, feel, or anything. I am just numb. I am starting to get sick of being faced with death, though. I almost feel like I have done it enough over the past few months. I guess all there is to do is go there and kick it in the ass. I am sure God has a reason for this, and I trust him fully. Of course, I hope no offense is taken upstairs when I say I do not really want to go through it… again. Life, I think, is going through most things you do not want to do in life, and only a few you do. I am learning that really fast.

The Little Voice

Published on July 10, 2008 Let’s start off with the good news. I apparently seem to be taylor-made for this program. I got accepted into the center today at Sloan-Kettering and have my first appointment one week and four hours from this point I am writing at 8:00am Thursday. Continu-

ing, upon further evaluation, I guess they moved me up from 25-50% to the 50-70% range. The reason it went up is because about half of the people die from the intensity of the chemo. Given my shape and age, that is highly unlikely. Secondly, the level two treatments are given to people that usually did not have favorable results with stage one treatment. I had very favorable results, just some hardened cells in a very big tumor that may not have been reached adequately. That really cheered me up a great deal. It means that I have a little control over my destiny and will be hopefully in a program that should be, if you make it through chemowise, very successful. I lifted, ate, hung out, and felt like a huge weight was lifted off me. It makes a great deal when people say ‘should’. To me, should = will. More than once in my life, I have been told that I don’t give up. I just don’t ever cut my losses, pack it in, stop looking for a way, and stop pressing to prevail. Roadblock, well I have four-wheel drive, go around it. No four-wheel drive, I will walk. River to cross… not swimming because I am miserable at it… but I will build a raft. No wood, then I must be in the desert and that would be irony at its best, but sand can dam a shallow part of a river and the crossing is easy. I guess what I am trying to say is that people always point it out as a fault that I just don’t give up. They do not like the fact that I have a strong will, or that I do not stop at inconveniences, or that my eyes become blind and do not consider anything that did, should, or will happen to deter my plans. I guess that is just me. If I lose at something, I try again. If something goes wrong, I fix it. If something happens, I take care of it… not saying at times I do not throw a first-class pity party, or two, or six, or 60… I do. I guess what I am saying is that I am glad I never gave in to those people that told me to give in before. I am glad I pushed a little harder to

56 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Karen Shanaman FAMILY FRIEND I knew Adam a little his first year at Blair because he was a teammate of one of my sons. The next year was when I really got to know him when, one day over Christmas break, he showed up at my house in Blairstown during a snowstorm. He was at my door with his headgear on top of a basket of laundry and asked, ‘Can I stay here?’ I said, ‘Sure. How did you get here?’ He replied, “Oh, somebody dropped me off – they got tired of me.’ So he stayed with us for about a week. He hung out with my sons and they did some crazy stuff together. He was very interested in the magazine Weird New Jersey and they ran around to all the spots highlighted in the magazine. I let them use my car which, as I found out later from Cindy, was not a good idea since Adam was a real bad driver. When Adam came to New York City for his treatments, I invited him and his mother to stay with us and they did on several occasions, including the night before Adam’s first appointment at Sloan-Kettering. In the morning we drove into the city in their Mitsubishi, which is a tiny little car. Cindy and I were up front and Adam rode in the back. We’re chatting away, driving kinda willy-nilly, making U-turns where we probably shouldn’t have and so on. Adam apparently didn’t think much of this as he hollered at us, ‘I’m not going to die of cancer. You’re going to kill me first.’ During our visit to Sloan that day, Adam did not get very good news. He was pretty angry, as anybody would be. I tried to get him to take a Vanex but he wouldn’t take it. He wanted to

go out and get drunk to wash away his problems. That wasn’t a good idea. So, I made him take the Vanex to calm him down and then took Adam and Cindy to a place he wanted to go – a Japanese restaurant. He loved sushi. We get there and he’s still pretty angry, so I told him he could have a beer. He ordered two Coronas and we get two huge courses of sushi. We’re sitting there, eating it, it’s really good and all of a sudden Adam puts his head on the table and says, ‘Mrs. Shanaman, I’m drunk; I am ready to go home.’ Cindy and I get him out of the restaurant and we walk him to the garage as he’s going, ‘Wow, this is really good.’ He’s on a high as we’re trying to get him back to the car. He notices people walking their little Chihuahuas on the sidewalk and he’s calling them ‘rats on leashes’ and making friends everywhere. He did feel better and we finally got him back to my house okay. That was a difficult and long day.

CHAPTER FOUR get through things, because I may need that extra gear or strength, or will, or never-saydie attitude. I had a bunch of friends tell me they have no doubt I will make it through. Most admitted that they would never want to do what I am going to do, and I do not either. I have to, though. There is no other way and there is too much stuff I want to do with my life. I am not ready to die; I am ready to beat this thing’s ass again. There is just too much for me to do yet. I think a large part of my motivation is a horrendous fear of letting others down. I think it is the worst thing ever. I hate not coming through. I cannot stomach it. Likewise, I hate when people give up easily on things. I hate the excuses about extenuating circumstances. I hate it when I know an extra effort would have made it work. I think too many people in life are too quick to throw their hands up in the air and say, “I quit.” I seem to be a little to quick to say, “I would never.” Something inside me keeps me going. I have all of this support, and all of this love and care. I am truly thankful for it. I guess people claim for me to be an inspiration, the face of toughness, the face of faith, and other great things. I claim to be none of it. If I inspire, I am very glad. If I can help someone find or strengthen their faith in the Lord and/or in themselves, even better. I do know inspiration and faith and toughness pull through. I know I cannot inspire if I am not here. I will beat this... there is a little voice that says I will. This just comes down to mental toughness… this really comes down to the fact that this opponent took a cheap shot and pissed me off. I am fired up and ready to go this period. I have my plan, I know what I have to do, and I am going to do it. We are what we repeatedly do. Success, therefore is not an act, but a habit. – Aristotle

Day One Of Two…

Published on July 17, 2008 Today I finished up with my first round of tests and my consultation at Sloan-Kettering. I have a ton to talk about today, mostly out of my rear orpheus, but nonetheless, here is what is going on to the best of my knowledge. My mother stubbornly decided to drive to, and in, NYC [from the Shanamans’ home in Blairstown]. Overcoming even more obstacles, my survival rate for the ride was probably less than 10 percent. She received a numerous amount of raised middle fingers, went the wrong way down a one-way, got lost, almost caused me a cardiac arrest on a few occasions, and ended up at Sloan about an hour late. Upon arriving, I checked in, got a little card, and went up to meet my new doctor. We went over everything, including another testicular exam, and then headed into a back consult room to discuss everything and all of the options. My cancer was dated to be much older than I expected, probably starting in last January, or 18 months ago. I have a rare form of cancer that formed into a placenta. If you took my tumor out and took a placenta out of a nursing woman, it would be the same thing. This is because although not fertilized, the sperm turns into different fetal things when it becomes cancerous. My cancer is from cells that were, or were supposed to be, sperm cells. After maturing, I apparently have pieces of bone, muscle, cartilage, etc. that make up the tumor in a now-benign form of tissue called teratoma. The risk with teratoma is that it can turn into the type of cancer paralleling the tissue it has become. With my tumor marker pending, I was told that there is a reasonable (coin-flip) chance that it is raised because of the certain proteins I was taking along with my training, a drop in testosterone, or other reasons. It was not that high, just high enough to raise

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

suspicion. This brings about option A. This option is the removal of my right testicle that had that strange mark on it to begin with, removal of my main tumor, and removal of the lesions on my liver in one surgery. A second surgery would then be discussed to take out the lesions in my lung as would more tests be administered to see if it was just scar tissue, lung tissue, or teratoma. As grim as that sounds, that is the preferable option – that surgery comes into play either way. The second option involves high-dose chemotherapy, which is a twopart process. Part one involves boosting my blood counts way up with chemotherapy and neupogen shots every day for a week before harvesting my white blood cells and freezing them. I would then be given a couple weeks to rest up before either repeating part one again or starting part two. Part two involves three days of high-dose chemotherapy with new drugs that I will find out more about. The high dose is four times the dose I received. After that, the fourth day is a rest day, followed by a fifth day where they put my immune system back into me to get my counts back up. I then have another two weeks to recover. Part two usually goes through three cycles, at which time I would not be able to really lift or do too much of anything. I would be an inpatient for the high-dose program when I was getting my chemo. Afterwards, because of the high risk of fever, disease, etc., they recommend me to be set up in an apartment that patients can get through the institute that is only a few blocks away from the hospital. This way, I can be monitored if anything was to happen, but I would not be stuck inside of a hospital. I figure that I will probably do that because it is better to be monitored more close by in case anything goes wrong. Anyways, it is 11:00pm, I am up in five hours to do a PET scan and some more tests

before heading to Fargo camp. I will let you all know about how it is going for sure. Pray for the best! But be sure to fear the LORD and serve him faithfully with all your heart; consider what great things he has done for you. – 1 Samuel 12:24

Still Waiting

Published on July 19, 2008 My day began today at 4am with a shower and a trip to New York City for the PET scan to see where my cancer is located. It’s basically like a PT scan with different injections. The process lasted about an hour-and-a-half. From there we went back to where we were staying and packed our things. On the way to coach the PA National team, we got information on the situation. My tumor marker is up, but it is not as high as we thought it would be. Which means the cancer is definitely back. We are still waiting for the doctor’s recommendations, which will be given after he reviews the PET scan. Coaching seems like it will be an enjoyable endeavor. I have a lot of fun with the kids both in and out of the wrestling room. I cannot wait to help them reach their goals in Fargo. There is nothing God and I cannot handle through prayer.

The Darn Shift Key

Published on July 23, 2008 My computer at the hotel has not one, but two, broken shift keys, which make it incredibly annoying to type anything. To put in a capital letter, for instance, I have to hit the caps key twice. Quotations, not happening… parenthesis, parenthe-no. It is kind of funny in a way that something so menial as wasting another keystroke of my time and interrupting my flow of typing could grow to something that annoys me, given the circum-

CHAPTER FOUR stances of the deviants I am forced to deal with in everyday life… the proverbial straws that are piled atop the fully loaded camel. Today I woke up, headed to a training session, got a little go-in with my brother, ate, bought a cowboy hat, and fell asleep until now. I am sure I will be heading back to oblivion shortly. That was my day. About the cowboy hat (because I am sure most of you who follow the blog or that know me know me as anything but someone that would wear a cowboy hat)... I bought it for two reasons. Firstly, I have always had a cowboy hat for the last few years and I tend to find them to be quite comfortable, passively obnoxious when not in Texas, and for some reason I just like the look. Furthermore, like the reason I wear a fedora, they tend to cast enough shadow over my face to hide my everthinning eyebrows, so I tend to look much less different. Differing from the traditional baseball cap because it does sit a little lower on my forehead. I think fedoras are just awesome-looking hats and I will continue wearing them for quite some time because I think they are, like cowboy hats, comfortable, kind of an attention-getter, and I think I fit the look… at least in my own mind. Tomorrow is a very big and exciting day for me because it is my first day coaching out in Fargo. I have had experience tending the corner a bunch of different times, but it has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I am very excited to do so and to hopefully be able to teach, in a positive light, some things not only about wrestling but about life. We will see. I also have learned by observing and conversing with the coaches that I find to be successful on how to get the most out of athletes in training and on the mat. I have seen that many coaches really do not know how to get the best from their particular athletes, yet other coaches tend to have people overachieve in retrospect to their placement on

the talent curve. There is, therefore, as I am coming to notice, much more of a technique and an art to this world I am beginning to delve into.

Home Again… For Two Days

Published on July 27, 2008 Sorry for not keeping as up-to-date as I should have. I was too busy coaching and having fun out there in Fargo. We made the trek all the way back last night and after driving straight through got home around noon today. The trip really took a lot out of me and it was extremely fun. I guess there is not too much to really say other than I coached; it was exhausting. I went out at night and hung out with just about everyone, and then got up the next day and repeated. One thing is for sure, the wrestling family is one of a kind. It was great to see how many people there were pulling for me and how many people came up and said that they follow the blog. I really appreciate all of the support and I will keep up with the postings to let you know how everything is going. On Wednesday I head back to NY for another round of tests and decisions. My PET scan came back with no activity anywhere except my right testicle, in which an ultrasound confirmed that the spot on it did grow. With that information, they know something is brewing, but it is not as serious as we all thought. Instead of leaning towards chemo again, they are leaning towards just surgery. I do not know for sure if that is what is going to go down, but I can only hope. I surely do not want to go through chemo like that, or chemo again. God never gives you more than you can handle.

Chapter five

My Tests Part I

Published on August 1, 2008 I figure this trip was pretty eventful, so I will start with one part being everything medical, and then the next part being everything else. Again, it was a very eventful trip. On Wednesday I had my scheduled MRI of my brain to see if the cancer somehow moved there. I found out on Thursday that it did not. My PET scan results came back that the cancer was untraceable throughout my body. Everything shrunk, except one thing – a spot on my right testicle. After my appointments on Tuesday, five guys had the pleasure of trying to find a lump on my testicles. Five times they failed. The last man to check happened to be considered the best in the world at checking for lumps… not a title I would want to have, but he is the best, so congrats. My oncologist said the spot tripled in size and is most likely cancerous. My surgeon, the best in the world, and a Cornell grad, said that sometimes they grow within the testicle. Both agreed on the next step however: surgical removal of that testicle ASAP. On Monday I will be down to just one family jewel. They hope that this extra sur-

gery can force a remission and leave the rest for dead. Later on, after monitoring for a couple months to make sure it is gone, they will take out the mass in my gut, the liver lesions, and then afterwards, if it is substantial, my lung lesions. It seems like every time I go up there they tack on another surgery. This is my best-case scenario. The worst-case scenario is that they take it out, my marker continues to rise, then they do the high-dose chemo and then surgery number two and three. So, basically it either sucks, or it really sucks. I am looking at about four weeks of basically nothing other than walking for four weeks for my testicle removal, and much worse for the other two. Maybe, at best, I can be ready to start training again in December. That would be a Christmas gift, to be done with cancer. So, I go back to NY on Sunday with prayers of this being closer to done. You are my refuge and my shield; I have put my hope in your word. – Psalm 119:114

NY Part II… That’s What She Said

Published on August 2, 2008 Welcome to the second part of the Adam is Losing a Nut saga. I figure the only way I have

61 made it this far is to be funny and this was not an exception. The first day was basically filled with me sleeping, waking up, maybe moving around a little bit before sleeping again. After my MRI, though, we did go out to lunch at a Japanese restaurant. As we were sitting there prepared to order, my dear mother had a moment. Now, I love sushi, sashimi, and most anything raw. To put it in perspective, I cook a porterhouse steak in three minutes. I like things rare. In fact, I could eat sashimi or sushi every day (for cultural purposes, sashimi is raw fish; sushi can be raw fish but is defined as a bite-sized food wrapped in seaweed and vinegar rice). After I ordered my platter, Mrs. Shanaman, our friend and accomplice into NYC with us as well as our host, ordered hers. Upon conclusion of her order, my mother asked the waiter what on the menu was cooked. If you ever had a time where your expression turned to, “What the hell just happened?” that was it. So, we went home, prepared for the next day and woke up to more appointments. It was at 8:30 that I met my surgeon’s assistant, who is apparently a brilliant man, but lacking in the humor department… at least in a professional setting. So, he had to administer the testicular exam… again. Then, he decided to ask the “personal questions.” With my mother and Mrs. Shanaman present I was asked in a roundabout way if everything down there was working properly. It is one of those things people do not want to ask, but have to and its like eh, um, well, I really don’t want to, but yeah, so are you getting erections and… Now, I knew this was coming after being asked the same thing so many times before. So, with a straight face I responded: “She said it worked in exemplary fashion just the other day.” Needless to say the poor guy’s face fell through the floor in shock while turning blood-red… I’m terrible I know. So, afterwards, my surgeon came in and

administered another testicular exam. He actually hit the tumor because it felt like I was being kneed in that area. If anyone is keeping count, I am up to six different men now that I have had the displeasure of grabbing my… area. Six too many if you ask me. We scheduled surgery then had about four hours to eat and we went to another Japanese place, and I told my mother to just not say a word. I explained to her what was cooked and she got it and there was no strange silence. Afterwards, we decided to go to the Museum of Modern Art. Being a sort of scholar on art after getting high marks on my AP exam and also in my Art History class in college, I learned from many that modern art and your view of how the random babble makes you feel is actually a sign of how your personality works. It actually is really interesting stuff, sort of like the ink blot test. We all looked at the architecture, the photos, and as we were getting to those paintings, I learned about my mother’s archetype… intolerance. “These are some of the stupidest things I have ever seen,” was one comment while looking at some Jackson Pollocks. Now personally, as an articulate individual, I have to somewhat seem like I can talk on the subject intelligently. In all honesty, after studying the paintings, I have a conclusion that my puppy could urinate on a canvas repeatedly and make us all into millionaires. Just my honest opinion. Call me what you wish, some part of you, as unadmittable as it may be, agrees with me. I just figured I would bring that to light. Anyways, we wondered back to meet my oncologist up in NY and he gave me the rundown on everything in a less mundane sort of way. I realize that you have to kind of loosen the doctors up, but you have to do it in a way not to upset them. I surely do not want any slips in my surgery, trust me on that. Laughter is the best medicine.

Hudson Taylor adam’s blair roommate

Recovering From Surgery #1

When I went to Blair as a freshman in 2002, Coach Buxton told me that I had a choice of two roommates. Typically, wrestlers room with other wrestlers at Blair. One choice was some lightweight guy from Pennsylvania – Adam Frey. I didn’t know who he was. The other choice was Kyle Manley. All I knew about him was that his dad was in the military. I wasn’t sure that I could handle all that military routine – neatness, cleanliness sort of stuff – so I decided to go with the little guy, this Adam character. I get to campus and get to my room. Adam’s stuff was already moved in but he wasn’t there. I took a walk around campus and run into another wrestler, Robbie Preston along with a group of five or six other people. We get talking and Robbie asks, ‘Who is your roommate?’ I answer, ‘Adam Frey.’ Their faces all light up. It was interesting – we’ve just been here a very short time and it was clear that Adam had already made an impression on people from the moment he set foot on campus. I get back to my room and start putting stuff in my desk, at which point I found a nice little gag gift from Adam – a pack of miniature condoms, the perfect gift for any 15-year-old. Even before meeting him, I knew that this was the person that I was going to enjoy spending time with. I knew that I was in for a fun year. Over the course of that year, I saw that his personality was his own breed. I’d never met anybody from the ‘WPIAL league.’ As he would say, ‘the WPIAL has the toughest wrestling in America.’ He had this thick Pittsburgh accent which was new to me. I had never met anybody who talked like ‘I gotta do my warsh’ or ‘What’s your favorite kelor.’ I’d get into a

Published on August 6, 2008 between doses of Vicoden I write another post. Life with one testicle is about the same as two. I have a two-inch covered scar under my belt line and have to wear a scrotum support. I feel the cut and the soreness. I feel absolutely nothing in my scrotum, and I hope it stays that way. It is hard to get up and down, but with some help I can do it slowly and make it okay. The wait for surgery was more miserable than surgery itself. My surgery was delayed a few hours so the anxiety of sitting there, IV needle in, ready to go got worse than the process itself. When it was my time, I was walked back to the OR, jumped up on the table, and they marked the one they were going to take. I put the mask on and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bed. I was thirsty, hungry, and had to pee, but was too doped-up to do anything. My mother and brother came in and visited, followed by two very close friends that live on Long Island. They took the train in and it was great having them there. As I was recovering, I must have been very loopy. My friends snuck me in a chicken burrito, and after telling the nurses I have an iron stomach, they let me eat it back there in the recovery room, and, man, it went down fast. Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for you are with me.

Go Figure

Published on August 15, 2008 It wasn’t for me. It started bad, ended bad, and I found out the next four to five months of my life are going to be a complete living hell, followed by surgery, which is another four to five months of annoyances. My surgery ended up being pointless. So, yeah, if you want to talk about frustrating, that was frustrating. I had my blood work done and redone twice, and my annoyometer is off the charts.

HudsonCHAPTER Taylor went on to63 become an All-American wrestler both at Blair and the University of Maryland. Dakota Fine/HRC Equality magazine

conversation with him and the content was always so intelligent, even with his accent. Throughout the year we had a lot of fun. Our room was an eight-foot-by-eightfoot shoebox. We had a bunk bed, two desks and a dresser. It didn’t take Adam long to assemble a total gym in the center of this tiny room. That became our jungle gym to climb over, around and through. Adam and I held our armchair philosopher discussions our freshman year after hours – lights out were 10pm. We’d be lying in our bunk beds, Adam on the bottom, and the conversation would start. Adam was very, very knowledgeable when it came to history. I also remember reading some of his papers and just being floored by where his papers were in relation to mine. It takes a special individual to get into a place like Cornell and Adam was of the best and the brightest at any school. When you got Adam excited and you got him talking about a topic that was interesting, you could talk with him for days about it. That was true with wrestling, true with hypotheticals. I remember asking him one evening, “Do you think time travel is possible?” Rather than giving the routine reply, “Yea, I think it’s possible”, for Adam it was dissecting

the actual possibility of time travel and how we might actually achieve it. That discussion about time travel and its implications lasted a good two hours. His mind was continuously thinking, reaching, and exploring new options and possibilities. Adam and I both had high hopes. We were both very clear and focused on our wrestling goals and aspirations at an early age. I think a lot of how I got to where I am today came from Adam’s day-to-day drive. Adam always gave 200 percent at everything he did. As a 15-year-old and not really knowing how hard and when to work out, it became easy for me to see what the mentality of a champion was when he’d ask me to go every morning to the wrestling room at 5am to get an extra workout in. Although I was bigger than Adam, size was of no importance because even though he was at 112, he was the biggest-minded and biggest-hearted 112-pounder in the country. He was a giant – in many ways. Although he was taken from us at such an early age, and with so much more to give to the world and everybody in it, the legacy he leaves behind is still affecting, and will continue to affect, people from all ages from all over the world.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

Quite frankly, I am sick of this. I was ready to just be done, but obviously life just can’t ever be that damn simple. Nope, it’s high-dose chemo, a surgery to put in a port in my chest, and basically living in NYC in some place for the next however long. I do not get to go home, I do not get to lift, train, or do anything but basically walk around. So, there I was, in a doctor’s room for what seemed forever, signing papers and listening to babble. I really don’t know what is going on. My mom wants me to go through more scans which pretty much are pointless, but she has to know. I could care less. It is whatever. It is the same thing either way, same odds, same everything. Survival rate is 50%. If this does not work, I will not see 24. Again, go figure. I am fed up with optimism. I’m sick of it. Everything they have done has not worked. It is frustrating, it is annoying, and I am sick of it. While everyone I know is going back to school, or work, or whatever, I am going back to the hospital for weeks at a time to get this crap again. And to add a kick in my nut, it’s four times as bad. My hair was coming back, I looked okay again. Now I get set back another year. It just isn’t right. Whatever, though.

Bob’s Fundraiser

Published on August 17, 2008 Yesterday was my big fundraiser put together and put on by Bob Acosta and sponsored by his rental company Bob’s Rentals. It was a very fun time and I have to again thank everyone who came out. The event had a live band, beer truck, bungee-jumping thing, these big moonwalk air things, more food than I thought possible, an X-box tournament thing with four TVs, a raffle for a bunch of things including a flat-screen TV, gas card, massage, paintings, and everything else under the sun. All in all, over $22,000 was raised in funds for my ever-increasing costs.

I think I finally pulled myself out of my little pity party. I seem to always need a day or two then I am over it. So, I am over it. I know what I have to do and that’s all I have to say about my morale on that. With everything going on, I will be making a video diary with www.stopsmokingconnection.com and I will also be on here blogging for the duration. I think I will be all done by the time Thanksgiving comes around, and I should be home for the holidays. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. – 1 Corinthians 13:8

Tests, Tests, And Tests

Published on August 19, 2008 Tomorrow I start another battery of tests, checkups, meetings, and whatever that goes along with my chemo. I had one night at home and spent it with some friends before embarking back up to NJ then NYC until probably Thursday night or Friday. The ride was good, and mostly because I did basically all of the driving. Watching the Olympics and the judging of the gymnastics sort of irked me, actually it really upset me, seeing the partiality in the judgments continue against the Americans and the one gymnast getting basically screwed out of a gold medal. My tests started about seven hours ago as I have to collect my urine in a jar, mainly because I flat-out piss excellence, but also because it has to be dissected to see about my diet and water intake and this and that. I know I have to fast tomorrow for a PET scan again, another CT scan, and I have a dental appointment, hearing tests, bone scan, more meetings, and to add insult to injury, a meeting with a psychologist, which I can assure everyone I do not need. It was scheduled for reasons I do not know, but probably because I was annoyed sitting in a doctor’s office being

CHAPTER FIVE told this had to take place. I think I deserved to be upset, mutter a few coarse words, and borderline blast double the social worker who quipped, “Seriously, you aren’t that good are you?” when the topic of wrestling came up. Ugh, to quote Teddy Roosevelt again, he almost got chucked out the window with the comment of, “Good enough to kick your butt.” Maybe it’s ignorance towards a sport that is not quite mainstream, or maybe the guy did not know who he was dealing with, but either way I have to go have a kindly and annoying chat when I could be eating. I had an interview with Muscle and Body magazine for the program I was on today and that also went extremely well. I have not seen my pictures yet, but I am pretty confident the end result looks really good. At least I am excited to be in a magazine. I do not know how much of everything I will lose during this conditioning, strength, and aesthetics wise, but I hope to sneak in my Total Gym and keep as much as I can. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. – Philippians 4:13

Wednesday And Thursday

Published on August 22, 2008 Wednesday, I woke up abruptly at about 2:00pm. Blair is starting to spring back to life, although to a common observer Blairstown is still completely dead. My mother and I went up to see who we could find and drop in some visits around the campus. Much of the conversations (with faculty) ran along similar lines. I got away mostly with not being clean shaven, except for Mr. Low, who asked me about my little beard problem. I politely responded that I was no longer a student and therefore inapplicable to the Blair dress code. We talked about how I was, how my mom was, the treatment, Garrett and his dealings with the whole deal, and basically everyone was surprised that I still

looked like me. In fact, most were surprised they did recognize me. I really don’t look much different at all. From there I went and had a chicken parm sandwich at Lou’s, came back to the Shanamans’ and went back to bed in preparation for tomorrow. Of course, that did not go as planned as I woke in the middle of the night and could not get back to bed. The next day I dealt with a doctor’s meeting, and a meeting with a psychologist to make sure I was mentally fine with everything. My CT scan showed a little bit of shrinkage in my tumors compared to the one done a month ago. I finally have an abdominal cavity again, and there is space and shrinkage in the abdomen like someone who is more normal. The tumor is not just a tumor now, but many smaller segments. My PET scan showed an area that is between my liver and the main tumor that is about the size of a golf ball of active tumor. The doctor is confident that after one round of high dose it should be really beaten up. He is very confident that it will go away after the hellish chemo. After the meeting with Dr. Feldman, which went well, and the follow-up with nurse Patty explaining everything and some paperwork asking questions about everything, I left to schedule some appointments. Then it was off to the psychologist. The psychologist was quick and relatively painless. It was basically deemed that I was fine and that they were there if I ever needed to talk. So, yeah. From there it was to my pre-operative testing, which took much too long and included more blood work (which is $2800 a stick – so, blood work alone is easily over $50k if anyone is counting), an EKG of my heart (which is still fine), a urine test, some of this, some of that, more questions, and then I was finally done at around 7:00. It was only an eight-hour day, which is good. Afterwards I made sure I wished raw food a goodbye and farewell, eating one of

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

those two-person boats of sushi along with a couple appetizers before coming back to NJ. The waiter looked at me a little weird, but I can eat still… always have, always will. I think he was in shocked when I destroyed the dish, leaving with half a Japanese fish market in my gut. The growth of my tumor’s half lives (the time it takes my marker to double) has slowed dramatically, which means my body is finally waking up and saying, “There may be something wrong here.” It is sort of odd that there can be such a war going on inside me without me even knowing it is there. Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her. – Proverbs 8:10-11

Embarking Again

Published on August 26, 2008 I leave today to move into the Hope Lodge and then I go in for surgery tomorrow to begin the whole process. I made good of my last few days in town, hanging out and keeping a sort of lower profile than normally. I heard something from a friend that made the whole high-dose chemo thing more understandable. In not-so-medical terms, he said that the cancer is generated from me. In fact, it is me… it is my cells. With that being me, he reasoned that the tumor and the cancer is just tougher than normal cancers from normal people. Because of that reasoning, it needs a little bit more than the normal tumor to be destroyed. To me, that makes sense. I was barely feeling the first round at all. I had my bad days, but made it basically unscathed. I think it just needs a little more than normal. Anyways, it is off to fight another war against the negative entity of myself as one could say. I am going to kill it this time. The LORD is a warrior; the LORD is his name. – Exodus 15:3

Surgery, The Hope Lodge, And Other Random Things

Published on August 28, 2008 I wound up doing a lot of different things in the last few days that I was too annoyed and irritated to write about until now. So… here it goes. We went up to NJ and I went embarking on a journey to find a new wide-screen computer screen with my high school coach and legend Coach Buxton. We sat there looking at monitors for about two hours. Thing is, there were only about eight on display. Then, the one Coach decided on was out of stock, so it went on again. We finally decided on getting a 22-inch model, and even as I was walking out of the store, I was getting enthusiastic remarks about going back in and getting a bigger one. The only thing is that it would probably not fit on his desk. The other thing was that I was getting irritably hungry. So, we went to a steakhouse with the company of my mother and Mrs. Shanaman. Dinner lasted about two hours of talking and whatnot, but only about 20 of those minutes were spent by me devouring an appetizer, 22-ounce steak, salad, and dessert. As I said, I was famished. We went home, expecting to have surgery at 3:00pm tomorrow. At 8:00 I was abruptly woken up, hearing that my appointment was changed to ASAP. I want to call the rest of the time from arrival to conclusion: Annoyance, Anger, Irate. I was there in the waiting room for surgery by 11:30. It was not until 4:30 that I had surgery. Needless to say, I was pissed about getting woken up, and then put in a room to sit there for five hours. The doctor would not give a time, and because you cannot eat or drink the day of surgery, I was thirsty, starving, and becoming increasingly annoyed, into angry, into irate. I finally was called before taking the next step in my pattern of anger… kill. The surgery room

Bill Durstein FAMILY FRIEND I got to know the Freys from going to wrestling tournaments for many years and watching our sons in action. Adam is probably the most intelligent kid that I’ve ever been around. He was fascinated with politics. He’d tell me he wanted to work in the White House. During the 2000 voting recount in Florida, Adam was right on top of it. He’d tell me about each senator, what they were up to, who was saying what and so on. I didn’t care that much but he’d keep on giving me news and updates. I finally had to tell him, ‘Adam, enough about all this politics, I don’t care.’ But he sure did. Adam was a fun kid. We got along well together and I could joke around with him and talk with him just like he was my son. His dedication to wrestling was… well, that was his life.

Will Durstein bill’s son I wrestled with Adam back in the youth leagues. Sometimes I was in his weight class – other times not. Even though Adam went off to school when he was 15, we still kept in touch. One time he came home for a weekend in the fall and I took him fishing at my family’s cabin in Cameron County. It’s primitive up there – no running water, no indoor plumbing. Adam had never seen anything like that. It blew his mind but he was able to adapt. He’d love to go fishing and it was a chance to get his mind off of everything in his life. He told me, ‘You’re lucky, Will; you grew up doing this kind of stuff. Being a kid from the city, I never got to experience anything like this.’

CHAPTER FIVE

was freezing, and I went to sleep and woke up with a shunt in my chest that basically is like the size of a pencil or my mother’s finger running through my chest, ribcage, and into a vein close to my heart. It feels like getting shot in the chest with a 9mm. Not like I ever was shot in the chest, but that is what I imagine it would feel like. I can feel it in me, and I can feel where my cartilage was torn and cut to put it in. Late that night I finally got a sandwich to eat and passed out after taking some pain meds in the Hope Lodge. It is a nice place, and a pretty big room. I do not know if I want to stay in what is basically a hotel for five months, but I will make do. I start chemo tomorrow and will be keeping you up to date on how wonderful that is.

Night One And My Routine

Published on August 30, 2008 The chemo this time is nasty. It has sideeffects of sterility, stripping the kidney and bladder lining, confusion and hallucination, and the obvious nausea, vomiting, fatigue, aches and pains. Fortunately, it’s going well. I took a little spin and went up to the recreation room to build a little wooden truck. It is a pretty nice rec room and it has a nice pavilion that you can sit outside and get some NYC air…notice I did not say fresh air because I believe that the air around this city is not of the freshest quality. My mother brought me a nice big burger after I finished painting my little wooden truck, and shortly after my great friend Vito stopped up from his spot up the island for a visit. It was great to be able to chat and catch up and just have those people around you who care and are there to brighten your day. I went to bed at around five during my second stint of chemo which I also handled very well and now I am here writing at 10pm. This is about a 12-hour post from start to finish and

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

for doing nothing it was a very exciting day. The staff and everyone here is great and I wish I was not here, but it is the best scenario for me. Even the food is all room service and the menu is very good. I cannot wait to sit around and have my mom cook for me this coming week, though. It seems to me that diet is one of the most important things with the cancer and battling it and it is best to be a good, balanced eater. I think that is why I am performing so well. In fact, my nurse and oncall doctors could not believe that I had one full round of chemo and surgery just three weeks ago. The people at the Hope Lodge mistake my mother as the cancer patient regularly, and my color and everything is fine. I truly believe this is because I eat a very healthy and wide variety of nutritious foods high in iron. I think a lot of it also just comes down to desire and mental toughness. I do not want to be sick, look sick, or anything, so I am not going to be. The key to life is to find the balance between having the softness to be understanding to others while having the mental toughness to expect and attain more from yourself. – That one is mine.

Hell Week

Published on September 2, 2008 This week surely may be one of the hardest I will ever endure. The Neupogen shots are basically unbearable and they ache a ton… even more because I have a high bone density and more muscle, which leads to more stress on the joints. To put it in normal terms, I feel as if I have broken every bone in my body except for where I am numb. Yesterday was spent in bed and not doing much, as was a lot of today, except for on both days, like every day, getting injected with five times the amount of Neupogen. Needless to say, I am ready to get this stage done and over with and move on to the actual chemo.

My numbers and everything are good so far and other than the ungodly pain throughout my body, I am basically effect-free. Hmm, so let’s talk about NYC. Rats play on the subway tracks all day long, and sometimes it does not have the best smells. I really do not mind the rats, but the smells, after being heightened, are really overwhelming sometimes. There is a lot of trash, and that is the reason for it, but it is surely there. I have come to think that NYC air really is not very fresh. No offense to the people that live here, but it is not fresh at all. I do like the fact that there is a lot going on all the time in the city, though. Of course, I cannot do much now, but it looks to be fun when I can get on my feet and actually enjoy being active, in contrast to just hurting all the time. Anyways, there is not much really going on, just the ride to and from the cancer place and eating and sleeping and, of course, the aching. A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions. – Proverbs 18:2

Chinatown, And Part One Of Some Deep Thoughts

Published on September 4, 2008 today was a much better day all around. My body, I assume, has become more used to what is being asked of it and that means the pain has tremendously decreased. Because the pain has subsided, a neighbor of ours at the Hope Lodge, who happens to be Chinese and also an avid cook, showed my mother and me around Chinatown. The part of Chinatown we visited was the part we were most interested in… the food part. We went, with Larry as our guide – through small shop to grocery store to small shop – to find the widest array of foods, meats, vegetables, fruits, and anything you

CHAPTER FIVE could think of on display. Now, NYC is a very expensive place, yet Chinatown is very inexpensive and the food is of a high quality. Upon perusing the rows of fresh cut fish, chicken, duck, fowl, meat, steak, crabs, lobsters, and anything else, you could see that it was of the highest quality, but was very inexpensive in price. For the $4 dollar subway ride, it is so worth just buying the food there instead of a supermarket. I know that at least the food I eat will be fresh and good here… and as I constantly try to keep a very good diet throughout this process, it is good that I have access to such fresh, quality foods. Also, food shopping and eating can highlight my day. If I woke up, picked out what I was going to eat, then ate, and that was the day, it would be a success on most levels. So, I have had some pretty deep thoughts, as I usually do when I am bored and in pain and miserable and incapable of doing anything else. In fact, it is so long that I hope to break this part down into two days of not lecture, but more of a philosophical reflection on dependency, help, and even salesmanship. To start out, I have seen it easy for people, including all too often myself, to shut out the help and assistance from those who wish and beg to give it, just to be let down by the people who they expect on giving it… but who do not. Time and again, and we all know it happens, we look to this person or that person for help, although they are reluctant to give it. This main point can be argued as the moral of the book, Death of a Salesman, where the main character chastises and ridicules the only man who showed up at his funeral. He refuses the one person who wants to be his true friend. This has also stuck its evil head towards me most notably during my diagnosis and realization of cancer. My at-the-time girlfriend, who I turned to for what I thought should be consolation and care, broke up with me within the week, citing that she did

not want to “deal with my cancer drama.” Surely, as most of you out there do, I had avenues of support, yet my mind became cluttered with a recoil of emotions wondering and fathoming how someone could react in the complete opposite way of my expectations. This led into the thought process of me feeling more self-conscious about something I did not have control over. For a time, I felt almost secretly as just an illness, not a person with an illness. In fact, I even at a time wrestled with the fact that this “loss” or “letdown” deemed me just not good enough to the point that I reversed the clichés. You are too good for her… Other people care – well, why not her, she is the one who is supposed to, right? How blind was I? Here I am with probably one of the largest support groups in the world following and praying for me every day to overcome this obstacle. At times I shut it out, but it is the truth. In fact, I am ten thousand times better now than with what I had. You see, this relates to many people and to many of you directly. I can see it. If someone wants to help you, let them. It brings usually great joy to both people. Helping others, for me, is one of the most rewarding things that I do in my life. It is a shame that I neglected others the opportunity to partake in that great joy. One of my biggest fears was, and is, to be a burden on those who love and care for me. It took me these few days, and being in so much pain that I could not walk down a hallway, and waking up in my sleep in tears (I never consciously cried over pain, I swear by it), to understand that the burden was gladly shouldered by those (in this particular case my mother) who care. I would be happy to care for her, so it is clear to understand why she happily cares for me. If not being able to conquer the world every day and all of its challenges is a crime, we are all guilty. Everyone needs somebody else. Everyone tends to look towards those who they hope and want to give it, not

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

to those who happily will give it. To put this main point into action, I can call upon another example. My high school chemistry teacher and advisor was, and is, hands down, the smartest person I have encountered. He was so intelligent that he would figure out two nuclear chemistry questions, while writing the steps of both down, doing the calculus in his head, and answering questions with two pieces of chalk, one in each hand, on the blackboard… at the same time. I cannot write my ABCs at the same time with both hands, and I think my lightbulb shines pretty darn bright. Anyways, the retired rocket scientist used to amuse us with his explaining of how things worked like the space shuttle and fiber optics and etc. that he worked on over the years. I once had the stupidity to ask him if he knew how to build the space shuttle, and figuring he was a rocket scientist, I figured he did. Ever blunt, his response was, with a little chuckle, “No one knows how to build the whole thing.” After further prodding, I found out that he and his team of colleagues built the carbon coating. Now that is obviously very technically and mechanically and chemically complex, but it brings me to my point: If the most intelligent human being I have ever encountered (and I have been exposed to a wide variety of geniuses) needed a crew to build only a part of something, then where would we be as a civilization and as people if we felt that we could control everything ourselves? If someone is willing to help, take it… you will both be better for it. I challenge you all to look out for those who wish to help you – your life will be much easier. I also challenge you all to try, in some way, to be a help and offer it to someone who may need it… if they turn it down, I hope I provided some reasons as to why. And lastly, I hope to finish this segment to give you all a complete look of what escapes inside the labyrinthian brain that I have… it is more business and real-world-motivated,

or at least I think so. Do unto others as you would want others to do unto you.

Part I Is Over Tomorrow, I Hope; I Can’t Take Those Shots Anymore

Published on September 8, 2008 I was in incredible pain this weekend, basically all but bed-ridden, and I have four pins in my left shoulder. I could feel my bones cracking around them from the bone swelling. Seriously, rationalize that pain and I’ll give you a present. I cannot. It makes me delirious and it makes me stupid. I can reread some of the posts I have written and it does not sound like me at all. The meds make my emotions sensitive, my mind scrambled, and they really do not do that much for the pain. It is like putting a teenager on her period and revving it up about 30 times. That’s what I feel like. Yesterday I escaped to NJ to the Shanamans’ spare bedroom, from where I basically did not emerge for 30 hours. I got there at 8:00am, after getting another shot, fell asleep, and did not wake up. I did not want to wake up; I was in too much pain to move. At least I got to sleep a little. I do not sleep well in the noisy atmosphere of the city and my room is either too hot or freezing. It never cycles to a happy medium. I wake up drenched every day. I swear I sweat off five pounds a night. It is disgusting. Tomorrow is a big day of getting the stem cells, and hopefully it is just that and only one more shot. I’m getting sick of this already.

News Today, CT Scan Tomorrow

September 12, 2008 today we did get news. I am in perfect health, minus the cancer. Apparently the shots had my white blood cell count so high that the doctor never seen it that high in clini-

Next to wrestling, CHAPTER 71 eating was the great passion of Adam’s life. In one blog, he wrote, “Not a big cake fan.” But as this photo shows he was willing to give it a try...

Josh Liebman coach and friend While Adam was wrestling at Blair, a couple of us New Jersey USA Wrestling people chartered a bus to take a load of wrestlers to Brockport, New York for the Northeast Regionals. We started picking up guys in South Jersey, all through Central Jersey and then the North Jersey guys – with the Blair wrestlers getting on the bus last. It soon became evident that there was an uncomfortable atmosphere between the Blair guys and the rest of the Jersey guys. They weren’t talking to each other or mixing in together. After about 15 minutes Adam just wasn’t having any more of it. So he gets up into the aisle and starts doing this Freestyle Rap that was just Godawful. However, all the boys really started getting into it and the tension just went away. Adam broke the ice amongst all the guys and everyone ended up having a good time. Later during that trip we were in the motel in Brockport and I was having trouble sleeping. I go out across the street – it’s about 2am – to get a cup of

coffee at a Tim Horton’s all-night shop. All the wrestlers are supposed to be sleeping, but there is Adam coming out of the place with a dozen doughnuts. He had already weighed-in and couldn’t sleep either, so he figured he’d go out and scarf down all these doughnuts before Coach Buxton found out. Instead of yelling at him and sending him back to the room, I sat down with him. We ended up talking for a few hours and became pretty good friends from that point on. Then there was this other bus trip. Adam is preaching to all who would listen that ‘every minute of the day there is something you could be doing to train.’ While he was sitting in his bus seat he’d be finding something to do, maybe just a hand or wrist exercise, which would further his training. We’re all laughing at him, going, ‘That’s Adam being Adam.’ Then we pull into a fast-food chain where there is a humungous long line waiting in front of the counters. To pass the time, Adam goes up to these strangers and starts shadow wrestling with them, while shouting out, ‘Don’t mind me, I need to get my training.’ It was hilarious.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

cal study nor has there been someone who had as many stem cells as I had. Surely, I told him, I was in much more pain getting there too. My tumor marker had a spike. I got it drawn today, but in four days it went up to 1700ish. They said that is because the dead cells actually burst and let more of the protein into the blood. I do not really know. I hope they are right. I do not want my cancer to more than quadruple. My doctor did reassure me that he has seen numbers in the millions and the people turn out to be just fine. I do not want to approach 2,000. In fact, as soon as it drops, I do not want to see any numbers other than zero. It has been over two weeks, and the next big step is the first high-dose cycle. I got some insight today on what it was, at least how powerful it is. It is 21 times what I had. That is right, the dose of chemo I am getting is 21 times the dose I had with the intense BEP first-line chemo. I cannot lie; this will be a pain in the butt.

Back To NY… For Eight Weeks

Published on September 16, 2008 it took all weekend to escape the grips and hecticness of NYC, and about five minutes for it to annoyingly come back. So, first things first. The weekend was just relaxing. I hung out with my dad a lot and some good friends and basically just kicked it and regrouped from everything. I had to get one last taste of home before embarking on my hellacious journey these next few months. The anxiety of it is starting to kick in. It is like one of those things that you just want to get over, but you don’t ever want to start. Typical anxiety. I figure it is normal. That said, home was good. Big Zeus went from moping and melancholy to happy and bright-eyed. I made sure that I took him for a little ride to his favorite place… McDon-

ald’s. My big guy loves double cheeseburgers, and although vets may kill me for getting him one maybe more often than I should, let me remind you that 140lb dogs do not normally make it to nine, so maybe it is giving him longevity. Either way, his eyes do light up when he catches a whiff of that restaurant. Hell, my eyes light up when I find out I am going there, and I’m 22 and in no way dog-like at all. The unknown is the scariest thing in life.

First Day Through

Published on September 20, 2008 Yesterday was spent sleeping my little tail off. I did basically nothing except sleep, maybe eat a little bit, and surprisingly, I had a calm demeanor to approaching this fight. So, today I was a little anxious to get started and we arrived at the hospital at around noon, but I did not get my shot in the gut and started until maybe two – chemo was flowing at about four. Today was about an eight-hour session of chemo, maybe more, maybe less, but I finished my last bag at around 2:00am. I was able to take all three just fine. As the high-dose and inevitably nasty carboplatinum entered my heart, I got a bad taste in my mouth, but that was it. I keep sitting here nauseated waiting to get sick, to vomit, to feel pain, but it is just not happening. I hope I can escape this one free and hopefully tomorrow and the rest of the cycle and cycles will go smoothly. Of course, nothing about this is ever completely smooth, but it’s not too bad either. I am borderline starving though, and it is almost 4:00am and everything is closed. I could really use some real food. I guess you could say that all in all cancer is a pretty boring thing. As it approaches 4:30, I am here listening to the person one curtain over struggle with the pain of his surgery, things beep, and feeling relief about how well I am feeling, yet wondering what my marker

CHAPTER FIVE is going to be on Tuesday. It can go up and be a good thing, or go down and be a good thing, so it may be obsolete, yet I want to know. I just feel better when I can see progress. At last check, it was in the 700s and dropping. After my first round I had a surge up to 1700, which meant that the chemo exploded the cancer cells and released a false marker into my blood. At three times of what I had of the drug that caused that surge I feel pretty confident it is going to do its thing. With the drug that is 21 times more powerful than what I had the first time, I am confident the job will be done. It is strange to feel confident when this is basically the last shot. However, I do. I am taking it well so far (knock on wood), and they said that if you do not feel anything, then you probably won’t. The only thing my stomach feels right now is hunger… especially for those Ramen Noodles, with added chili powder and pepper for a little kick. Trust me, if you like Ramen Noodles add a bit of spice, fresh-ground pepper and chili powder – make them like gourmet. Now that wasn’t so bad Adam, was it? – My mother, countless times.

Leucopoiesis, Back At Hope, And Five Minutes Of Hell

Published on September 24, 2008 the leucopoiesis, or stem cell infusion, went apparently without a hitch. In fact, it could not have gone better. Dr. Feldman came in and said that everything is going just as well as it could, and I basically packed up and left. So, leucopoiesis… here is what they do, and why it is such a big deal. They take your stem cells, which look like a watered-down tomato juice, and warm them up in a warm water bath until they are ready to be infused. Then, the nurse loads up a syringe and injects them into my port. While injecting, you chew on lemons to keep some miserable taste out

of your mouth, yet, I fortunately do not know what that taste is yet, because I did not get it. Although it seems simple, it is a very new procedure. It is so new in fact that only one nurse practitioner knew how to do it (fortunately mine), and most doctors have never seen it in practice. This ground-breaking infusion procedure has the potential to be used in apparently a variety of cancer treatments, allowing for higher doses, less drawbacks to the immune system, and other technical doctor jargon. Sloan-Kettering is the first place to use this technique. It is a medical breakthrough and thank the Lord Almighty that I am able to be a guinea pig. Without this important procedure, albeit simple and anti-climactic, I would be at high risk of losing my life, no way around it. So, let’s hope the cells hold strong and we find out tomorrow how everything is going in my now blackened veins (yes, the chemo is so strong that your blue veins turn a blackish color). In the meantime, I got my last two shots in the gut and happily emerged from the hospital feeling like a ball of static energy. It is funny to describe the energy as static, I was just brimming with this excitement to go home, eat, sleep, be out of a hospital, yet at the same time my body was fatigued and ready for a nap. My mother, who seems to be more tired than I am after such an emotionally-stressful first week for her I am sure, woke up and prepared me breakfast. She seriously should be canonized for putting up with this endeavor; just the grind of being a care-giver may be harder in some ways than fighting the disease. I see a lot of tired faces and drained care-givers here and elsewhere, and I have to praise their efforts, for it must be just very hard to cope with, mainly, I theorize, because they have to cope with the unknown. I at least know how I am feeling; they do not understand, which leads sometimes to assuming it

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

is worse than it actually is. Well, breakfast was three juice boxes, a Gatorade, a cup of tea, a yogurt, and a threeegg omelet. Let us just say that I paid the price for two things: not taking my stomach medicine beforehand, and thinking I was invincible and stuffing myself full of so much. Wrestlers can maybe sympathize with how I feel after chemo. The rest of you probably could simulate a chemo-like feeling. The feeling is like how you feel when you cut or suck a lot of weight rapidly and hold it off. So, lose 10% of your body weight and then do not eat for a day. The next day you will feel about like what I feel regularly after chemo. Feeling this feeling before, I just knew what to do… pause… not. What I did was pound the fluids, eat, and top myself off with a lot of food. Needless to say, in about an hour my temperature started to go up, and I felt very flu-like. My stomach cramped terribly and I staggered to the bathroom where I almost passed out from the chemo’s fury. The five minutes in there felt like three hours, but after getting everything out of me, I felt remarkably fine… exhausted from what my body went through, but fine. In fact, it was almost instantaneous, my temperature went back to normal, I went to sleep, and woke up three hours later. So, I must remember to not overeat, which, if you know me and how I eat, is easier said than done. I also have to remember to take my stomach and nausea medications to stay in front of the chemo’s fury. I guess this is a learning experience, and it is a guessing game of how to counteract the feelings of your body with the food, rest, etc. to offset them. I also learned that five minutes can last a long time, and how bad one of those spells can be. Now that I know what to expect, I can conquer it. I guess everything is at its worst upon first experience. Cancer is like riding a rollercoaster. You are anxious and anticipating

everything the first time it happens, but after you know it is coming, and you can see the result, then it is not that bad. Forty days of treatment left. The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit. – Psalm 34:18

Annoying… Like The Itch You Cannot Reach

Published on September 30, 2008 today I went in for my little checkup and blood work. The neuroscopy is starting to kick in a little bit, which is the loss of feeling in your fingertips. I had it through my first round of BEP, it came back, and now I have that tingly numbness and poor handwriting again. I sure hope it comes back because it can be permanent, and although annoying, it could be detrimental. I am having a hard time with fine motor skills, and it dawned on me… if I cannot write fast, how will I be able to finish exams at school which include a massive amount of writing? Something like that is a huge disadvantage and whether you know the material or not, most exams take most everyone the entire class time. I guess while everyone is studying, I will be practicing how to write legibly and fast again. Hmm… I get my blood work back and it was low, really low, dangerously low, low enough that the other doctor wanted to admit me. Low enough that I was forced to get a platelet transfusion, which kind of annoyed me. All in all the doctor’s appointment took five hours. I think even more cells were lost as my blood started to boil in an annoyed state. Here is why I was annoyed. The nurse said first that I did not need the transfusion and to hold off on it, to be careful, and to watch and come back if anything happened, but she would ask the doctor. Now my doctor was not in, so it was a guy I never met, seen, looked at, or anything. He does not know me

CHAPTER FIVE from Adam… pun intended. I had no fever, had nothing wrong with me and no symptoms of anything. All in all I feel healthy, and I hate it when people who do not know how I am feeling assume that I am sick. He said to do it. I have the feeling that if my doctor was in, he would have at least consulted with me before ordering a transfusion. As the patient, I feel at times I at least deserve five minutes of explaining and talking before just doing something. Here is another reason why I was quite unhappy. Platelet transfusions carry the high risk of a fever. It does not mean you are sick; it is just a side-effect. That fever would put me in ICU for three days of observation… something the doctor apparently hinted at anyways. I told the nurse that they would have to physically insert me in the hospital, and that someone trying to do so, if they succeeded, would be in the bed right next to me. I may sound stubborn, but why would I or anyone want to go into a hospital for three days when they aren’t sick? I monitor my health as well as anyone and have no problem with going into the hospital if I need to. Right now, I do not need to, so again, you never talked to me or saw me in your life, so do not make decisions about it… or at least have the common courtesy to pop your head into a room and explain what the heck is going on. So there I was for two hours getting a transfusion in a little room where people get chemo. Now Sloan is very different from Hillman. In Hillman, there are four chairs in a room and people actually talk and become friends and socialize and all those good things. It is like a mini support group, and as you go along you see the same people, and it’s good. At Sloan, you get your own little cubicle and it negates social interaction. I think social interaction among people with similar issues is a good thing. An environment that promotes social melding is better for something like cancer… in my honest and usually

accurate opinion. This little rant is in no way intended to criticize the doctors, nurses, or Sloan as an institution. They are the top and the treatment is first-rate. I just wish the guy would have come in like my normal doctor does and explained everything. Hell, my regular doctor, Dr. Feldman, even took the time out of clinic to visit me in the hospital to make sure I knew exactly where he stood on things and asked my input and my stance on things. Communication is the essence of being a good doctor, and listening is the essence of a good doctor. A piece of paper with numbers on it may give evidence of a condition, but it does not give any information about how I feel and about who I am. That is all I want to say about that. So, I finished my transfusion and basically ran out of there before they had the chance to bring me back in for another thing. Fortunately, I have not gotten sick and do not intend on doing so. I just need to lay low, sleep, and let my body build up again. This time, it will be for a long while as I do not go into chemo again for… 11 days. I came back, took a nap and went out to dinner with a friend and am now back here at Hope about to watch some TV and turn in for the night. I guess my body decided to play Dow Jones for a couple days and crash… but all things like the Dow are on the upswing… without bailouts, up 500-plus today. Honestly, the media is causing this panic and making it worse than it really is. Personally, I would invest right now… the market is going to stabilize, guarantee it. Lord help me to have the courage to change the things I can, the faith to let go of the things I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Chapter six

Another Weekend In The Books And I’m Being Good, Promise

Published on October 5, 2008 this weekend was laidback, spent doing a little bit on Friday and basically nothing today to note. There was a group that came in and put together a luncheon on Friday and as irony would have it a former coach that recruited me was there volunteering for the event. It was nice to swap wrestling stories and the whole bit, and ironic at best like it always is to continue meeting people that I have never really met who avidly follow the blog. It is amazing to me of how many of you follow this whole thing. I guess, to go off on a tangent, I am basically an everyday person. Beyond the avid wrestling world, most people would not recognize me on the street. I guess you could say I would not stick out too badly on a subway full of strangers, yet through fate, I guess you could say I have a reasonably large following. Teddy Roosevelt once said that some men were born great and others have greatness thrust upon them. I humbly do not consider myself to be great…well, maybe a great wrestler at one time depending on who’s opinion, and I try

to be a great friend and person and son and brother and etc, but I do not consider myself to be great. However, I will use my own nouns to describe what has been thrust upon me. Although far from greatness and in fact a very humbling and self-conscious disease, maybe a purpose has been thrust upon me, or a diversion from the path I planned was thrust upon me. Some people were born to be great inspirations, and as I have heard the inspiration word used by others so many times to describe this situation if you will, I guess it was thrust upon me. I finally accepted the fact that I am a role model. I used to use, and I believe I used in this very blog, the Charles Barkley quote of “I am not a role model,” but it has become steadily thrust upon me. I guess I have grown accustomed to the realization of this role. I remember when I won O.W. at the Dapper Dan a few years back and was approached by a son and his father for an autograph and the son looked at me and his father and said “I want to be just like you!” I responded, “No, you really don’t, you want to be yourself.” There was a strange look from both son and father, but three years later, I

Vito Cataldo close friend I had never heard of Adam before the Cornell wrestling camp in 2006. I went with my teammates from MacArthur high school on Long Island. Adam was one of the counselors. The second or third night, around 10pm, my brother, two roommates and I snuck some girls into our room. Females weren’t allowed in our dorm. We were trying to be quiet but not doing a good job. Suddenly, someone knocked on our door – it was Adam. He walked in with this real serious face. He was only 5’6” but he was built like a tank, about 165-170 pounds of solid rock with awesome chops that went down the middle of his cheek He goes, ‘Hey, you guys know girls aren’t allowed in here, right.’ We don’t know him well, so we all start getting nervous. He looks at us again, and then pulls one beer out of his left back pocket and one beer out of his right back pocket. He says, cracking that little fiendish smile of his, ‘Listen, I won’t tell on you guys… if you don’t tell on me.’ We all cracked up and ended up having a great time together until the wee hours. We had practice at seven the next morning so we weren’t drinking to get hammered – we were just getting to know one another. One of the counselors who came up with us, T.J. Lazarus, who knew Adam, joined us and we talked about anything, ranging from the books in his house to the people in our life who influenced us the most. That was the first time I got to know what Adam Frey was all about and it sparked my friendship with him. Adam was a mentor – like a teacher – to me. He taught me things about wrestling and about life that I didn’t think I could find from anybody else. It was an instant attraction. Anybody that’s ever had a

CHAPTER

Vito and Adam enjoyed wings and a few pitchers at a bar in Yonkers in October 2008. It was the last time they drank together.

conversation with Adam knows he had a commanding, domineering personality. The following summer Adam came down to our area to be the clinician at our high school wrestling camp. It was a two week camp, plus he was here another week for the pee-wee camp. Adam stayed the first week at James Strouse’s home; the second week with T.J. Lazarus; and the third week at my home. Now Adam comes from a very traditional Pittsburgh family. If you’ve ever been to Pittsburgh you’ll know what I mean. I come from a very traditional Italian-American household. So even though we were from two completely different cultures we got along very well because we have the same family values. The first evening he spent with us I recall my mother saying, ‘He has an appetite like nobody I’ve ever seen in my life.’ He sat at our kitchen table and had about nine chicken cutlets, an entire bowl of salad and he had a pound and a half of pasta to himself. My mother and father were astonished – and so was I. But that was not unusual at all for Adam.

Karen Shanaman family friend I remember the time when Adam was in the hospital in Manhattan and he got a bad staph infection. He was really sick. Cindy and I went in and stayed through the night with Adam in his hospital room. There really wasn’t much to do except watch television. Well, around one or two in the morning Adam wants to watch this medieval torture feature that goes on for 24 hours. So we sit there all night watching this awful torture show. That was pretty bad but at least it gave us a lot to talk about in the morning other than the tiresome chemo talk. Actually, we had a lot of laughs together – he’d call Cindy and me ‘the two-headed dragons.’ It was wonderful having him at the house. My kids and I learned a lot from him. That experience made all of us grow. We were blessed to have him with us for much of that time when he was undergoing his treatments.

am sure the little boy would not want cancer. In all seriousness, I truly believe that God put everyone on here to be themselves and not to hide who they truly are. In the screenplay of life, no one can truly play you as good as you, and you cannot play someone else as good as they can. That story to me shows me at a spot of ignorance. I was not at a time in my life where I wanted to accept the responsibility nor had the maturity level to truly be a role model. Still today, I am nowhere near perfect. But, I guess that is one of the many roles I was put here to play by the director in the skies. In the same manner, I guess I was put here to be an inspiration, although it sometimes is a daunting task for me to be inspirational. It pressures me to complete the story in a way, but in whatever way I can I will. I guess all in all, I’ve had a positive (or at least I hope so) effect on many people that I will never meet. This process is strange, and everyday I learn more than the last of how to take on these new roles and how this affects others and how I affect others in a way different than what I ever though possible. I always wanted to write a book, but always wondered if my life was interesting or compelling enough for people to read it, or care. I stopped putting it off, because the statistics, cards, emails, and conversations I have had now point in the direction of it being worthwhile and a readable book. Of course that book is going to be mainly on the fight with this demon, but I am including maybe a little more about who I was, and I, still a believer that fairy tales do happen, am praying for a happy, fairytale ending. To get off that tangent, I went to Long Island, hung with Vito’s family, was tired, left and laid low Friday night and then again today. In 10 days, I will be 3/4ths of the way through with my treatment. I can see the

CHAPTER SIX light at the end of the tunnel, or at least I think it is the end of the tunnel… could very well be a train like the end of my last cycle… I think not though. Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns. – From the poem “Don’t Quit” (unknown author).

Free Fall Published on October 10, 2008 here I am again in the hospital, getting the chemo. In about 30 minutes, I will only have five more days to go. I feel good, and this one is going altogether better than the last cycle. I think I just know how to cope with it better now than the first one. I know what to expect and smell and taste and I can now counter it. The good news is that my tumor marker is still in what you could call a free fall, meaning it is dropping at the maximum rate. This means the cancer took a heavy hit in the first round and is either paralyzed from growing, growing slowly, or all dead. I am at 202 right now, and barring another spike, which my doctor said is improbable, I should be down to normal going into my final cycle. Actually, that was a lie. I am under 202, closer to 170 right now, but they did my tumor marker 12 hours ago and it was 202. Every day is another step towards beating cancer. That is how you have to look at it. Let me describe cancer and the chemo as bluntly as I can put it. Open Pandora’s Box, ingest everything. That is cancer… but wait; there is hope at the bottom of the box, right? After ingesting the most despicable, hellacious, terrible, horrible, painful, miserable thing called cancer, hope lies in chemotherapy. Again, open Pandora’s Box, but this time make it more severe, shoot that through your veins, and wait and watch to see which greater of the two evils prevails. That is can-

cer and chemotherapy… the yang and the yang to health’s ying. Ironic isn’t it? I think so. It is funny that by sweeping you close to the gates of hell and death is the only way to beat the cancer. It is sort of strange, but still, it is what it is. Anyways, that is cancer, because despite how I attack it, some days it is hard to smile and find interest in things. I get bored more often, and find myself to be climbing the walls just wanting some excitement. Some real excitement, like wrestling or going out or anything. Again, I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and everything is good news, and I feel great…honestly do. However, the statement that “rest is a good thing but boredom is its brother” is very true. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. – 1 Corinthians 15:57

Busted Up

Published on October 18, 2008 I started going downhill on Wednesday night. I figured it was just the chemo, or that it would be over soon, and finally I passed out on my bathroom floor at 3:30am. The taxi ride to the doctor’s brought back the just-departed nausea and when my blood work finally came back, my potassium was at the “heart failure” edge of the spectrum, and apparently the chemo was pulling it out of me faster than I could put it in. So, I went down to get a bag of potassium and magnesium. My levels were still low, I was achy, my head was killing me, and I was sent over to urgent care to get another IV bag of potassium that was already ordered and ready for me to take. So, after waiting there for two hours, I finally asked why they couldn’t just hook me up to the IV. The answer I got was infu-

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

riating. Well, you have to see the doctor here and get blood work and that will take about two hours. Um, what?? I watched my doctor order the IVs for me three hours before. I do not need to see another doctor. And with that as well as a few choice words out of sheer frustration, I got a cab and left. I figured I could get my levels back up on my own, plus I was in a ton of pain from full body aches, I had not taken any nausea medicine all day, and I had been in a hospital/doctor’s office for 12 hours. I am a patient person, but that was ridiculous. At about 2:00am I woke up with a 102.8 fever and had to march back into urgent care, although this time it was actually deemed urgent and I got a bed right away. I don’t really remember much after that other than being in excruciating pain and vomiting, but I was finally admitted at 4:45am. I was just exhausted from the entire ordeal of having my temperature reach 105 degrees, break, go back up, break again, and repeat in rapidity. About every two hours depending on the medicine, I would go from burning up, to sweating every drip of water out of me, to chills, to burning up again. So, today I found out that my one tube going into my heart was infected. That accompanied with the whole potassium dropping to 2.3 (2.9 is high risk of heart failure), and everything else is going to have me in the hospital until basically further notice. I am hoping I can be out in a week, although I am just so exhausted that I really do not care. After spending the last two days in the fetal position, anything is comfortable.

I Should Have Figured

Published on October 20, 2008 Well, it was not just a small infection in a small place. No, it had to be the feared staph infection that spread throughout my entire body, so yay me! (sarcasm assumed). I woke

up this morning hearing the feared words of staph, followed by the mention of MRSA staph, which scared the living hell out of me. Fortunately, it is just staph, like that is a wonderful consolation. So, bright and early this morning I had the pleasure of a test to figure out if my heart still worked right. I am waiting still for the results that the technician said she could not tell me but had to tell the doctor. Like, just sit there and make me sweat. Onwards and upwards... the news just kept getting better and better for me. Again that includes sarcasm. I have probably another week in here, which would make it 13 of 14 days in a hospital. I am so looking forward to it, but not really. Other great things I have to look forward to are getting my port removed. So, while I am awake and sitting here, they are going to pull this despicable thing out of my chest. That sounds like almost more fun than I can handle, but to make it even more dandy, I have to have another hole temporarily stuck into the other side of my chest for the last round of chemo, which will come about maybe three or four days after I get out of here for this. Exciting stuff, let me tell you. Basically, rising above all of the sarcasm, let me sum up how I view all of this in two easy words: IT STINKS. I have better choice words in my vocabulary that I will not use that more accurately sum up my view, but I let that be up to your imagination. I guess there is a silver lining to this cloud, and before everyone goes and tries to give me a pep talk and the whatnot, I am fine, just frustrated and annoyed. But, at least I won’t have to deal with the hassles of the catheter that has been an annoyance for the last 60ish days. That would be the good thing. I feel better, my morale isn’t the best, obviously, and as it is human for it not to be (if you decide to argue this point, good luck… this stinks, and that’s what I’m sticking to),

CHAPTER SIX

but physically I feel better. This took a lot of size and weight off of me, but with the catheter out, at least I can work out without worrying about harming it. I do look at myself after this bout with staph and see a much more frail, less-toned person than I saw before. I am pretty eager to get that back. I am really getting ready for this to finally be over, this near-death and should-have-died thing is getting annoying… the list is now: car accident, cancer, chemo-resistant cancer, electrolyte levels below heart failure levels, and full-body staph infection. Yeah, that is in the last six-and-half months. I hope I have something decently good to share tomorrow. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you. – James 1:21

The Cataldo family enjoyed hosting Adam at their Long Island home – and were always amazed at his oversized appetite.

Chapter seven

Hello Wall Number 1, 2, 3, And 4

Published on October 23, 2008 I am feeling fine, just getting stir crazy in here. Stir crazy and bored. The staph infection is under control and basically gone. My WBC count is starting to come up, meaning it was at a recordable number today, leaving a wide array of dates for me to get the heck out of here from tomorrow to four days from now. I hope it is tomorrow, because four days from now… they may transfer me to a psych ward. I am literally going nuts. I have done basically nothing of note except for the crossword puzzle in today’s newspaper. I have to go back in again in a week, so any time out of here is like gold to me. I almost feel like I have had no break since chemo the last time. I want to get away, not eat hospital food, and not deal with the fun stuff of being in here all the time cooped up. At least I am alive I guess, should be dead, but I am still kicking. They have to or are going to take my port out, which is apparently an easy process of not much pain. Quick, easy, and I will be able to work out a little bit again, maybe get on a wrestling mat, maybe get back to life a little sooner, or doing the things I like to do. Of

course, I have to get a temporary one put back in for the chemo that comes out after that cycle, and that will probably be miserable, as well as the misery of getting jabbed for blood and this and that. If I can avoid being sick and needing a transfusion, maybe I can get away from it Scot-free and go home in midNovember. I should make my fundraiser up at Cornell and still hope to broadcast the Body Bar tournament the next day around the 21stish. I really have lost perception of dates, so everything beyond the last round of chemo is a mess. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. – Romans 12:11

Jumping The Fence

Published on October 25, 2008 I finally was able to get out Thursday night. Needless to say I underwent some traumatizing things and jumped ship to NJ for the weekend. On Thursday I got a platelet transfusion and they told me that as soon as I got my fancy and infected tubes taken out, that I would be able to leave. The platelets were so that I had enough to be able to stop the bleeding from the six or eight-inch hole created by the cath-

Jeff Buxton blair wrestling coach Sophomore year Adam jumps into the national scene and does a really good job. He had some big-time wins. Probably the best one was against Daniel Frishkorn from Great Bridge where Adam was able to shut him down. (Author’s note – Frishkorn was a senior and ranked as the #2 high school wrestler in the country at the time. Adam took Frishkorn down seven times, coasting to his upset victory, 16-8.) Adam kinda fell apart in his last match at National Preps, losing to a kid whom I thought Adam should have handled. It was an unexpected loss as Adam just didn’t wrestle well. Adam was undefeated his junior year and had just one loss his senior year. That was in a match against Easton’s Alex Krom when Adam went up a weight to help out the team. He had been wrestling mainly at 135 but a couple days before the match Adam’s teammate who often wrestled at 130, Travis Blasco, told me he didn’t want to go down to 130 for the Easton match. When Adam hears this he quickly comes to me and says, ‘I weigh more than Travis does, I’ll go up a weight for the match.’ That was typical of Adam Frey. He was a team player, very loyal to his friends, very loyal to his team. If anyone ever needed help, whether it was in wrestling or chemistry or math, Adam was always there to support them. He was a great leader for the wrestlers. That’s why he was a twotime captain for us. Post-season at the Senior Nationals, Adam wrestled Joey Slaton [future NCAA finalist] in the championship finals. Adam’s edgy attitude got to Slaton so much that it ends up with Slaton trying to punch him. Adam

scored on a great inside trip, then pops83 CHAPTER up and with his right arm gives the first down signal, yelling, ‘Move the chains.’ As his coach all I did was laugh as I thought it kinda funny, but surely Slaton didn’t. Adam got under the kid’s skin, which was part of his game, too, and won the championship. Adam was one of those guys who’d wrestle through pain if there was an injury, would wrestle any time if you wanted

Adam with Jeff Buxton at the inaugural Adam Frey Classic at Rider University, NJ in 2009. Brooke Zumas, ZumPhotography.com

him to. If I asked him to go work with somebody – it didn’t matter who it was – he’d be the first one to go work with him. He wanted the team to be really good. When he was captain his junior and senior year we had a very good streak going. He’d come see me and tell me, ‘We’re not going to lose on my watch.’ I thought that was good because he took ownership of the team and he did everything you’d want a captain to do at that point.

Mario Mason WRESTLING COLLEAGUE I first met Adam during my initial orientation day when I entered Blair. He came up to me wearing this big cowboy hat and greeted me and my family to the school. I was a freshman and he was a senior, so we got to be teammates for one year. At Blair, the incoming freshmen are given an ‘older brother’ and it just so happened that Adam was assigned as my ‘older brother.’ Consequently, I got to know him better than many of the underclassmen. Adam took me under his wing and he’d work out with me two or three times a week, if not more. He was one of the best workout partners I ever had at Blair. It seemed like he had a million different moves. He’d constantly beat me up pretty good; he’d throw me on my back from every position, so I was always fighting off my back. I got pretty good at that actually. Adam helped me in a number of ways. During my freshman year, even though he was sick, he bumped up a weight class at the Final Four so that I could wrestle underneath him there as a freshman. At the Ironman tournament my sophomore year, Adam came back to help coach us. I had to wrestle the kid whom Adam had defeated the prior year in the finals. Adam was in my corner and gave me a lot of tactical tips and encouragement. I remember him telling me, ‘You can beat this guy; it doesn’t matter that he’s older. You can beat him; you are better than he is.’ He was so smart – as a wrestler and in the classroom. I thought he was a genius.

eter. Later on that night, I was treated to an Aussie doctor snipping and pulling a sixeight inch tube from my chest… while I was good and awake with no pain or anything. It was quick, but like I told my father, getting hit in the face with a brick is pretty fast, too. It did not feel like getting hit in the face with a brick, but rather having a tube the thickness of a pen pulled out of your heart. I cannot and will not describe the feeling, and now I am sporting this big padded tape thing across my chest… which may be more uncomfortable than the dangling ends of the port. After that we left, I went home and went to bed. Mrs. Shanaman came in the morning to pick me and my mother up so we could venture to Parents’ Weekend at Blair. With the port out, I told Coach Buxton that I would be ready to start helping out with the team and training again in about two weeks. I have no idea how much my body can take working out-wise, but I guess there is only one way to find out and that is by stepping into the fire. My dad made the trip to mostly help with the precarious chore of taking care of me while I creep out of the woods with my health. It was nice because I have not seen my father for about two months. All in all it is nice to just get out of NYC, and going one step further to get out of the hospital. Of course, I go back into the hospital, hopefully for one final stay, next Friday. So stick to the fight with your hardest hit, and when things go wrong don’t you quit. – From the poem “Don’t Quit” (unknown author).

Questions And Answers

Published on November 1, 2008 I am about to start my second to last day of chemo in about an hour and a half. At six, our floor had a little lasagna birthday surprise thing for one of the care-givers, then I decided to take him out for a couple drinks. Needless to say, the two drinks were well

Jeff BuxtonCHAPTER 85 BLAIR WRESTLING COACH worth it and exactly what I needed to sort of calm my mood. My mood was soothed for a night, but Thursday brought up a bunch of the same old nonsense. We went to the doctors to find out that my tumor marker was dropping, but not as fast as it was dropping. Now, this could be contributed to a few things, but one thing could be that the chemo either was flushed out completely due to my infection, or the cancer is resistant again. That news was a bit of a shock. The news now is that if it normalizes, great, if it just keeps going down until surgery day, which is about December 8, great. If it goes up, then there is a handshake and another ‘we did all we could’ speech. The tumor maker should have dropped to about 17, it only hit 28 on Tuesday’s reading, then was down to 21 on Thursday’s. That means I have to drop about a point per day and have it not go up until surgery to have the best chance of cure. If not, well then again I am behind the eight-ball.

Done With Chemo… For Good

Published on November 2, 2008 with tomorrow being the rest day and Tuesday being the stem cell infusion, this day was officially the last day of chemotherapy I will ever get for this cancer. So, right now I feel a little eh, ugh, blah, but that is to be expected. I hope by tomorrow everything will calm down a little bit, and then hopefully I will just be tired on Tuesday. Thinking positively, I hope to be okay in a couple weeks maximum. Thinking even more positively, hopefully this last dose took the rest of the cancer out, or will take it out and then I can just get out of this fight. I am ready to feel like me again. That said, this is the last punch in the fight I guess you could say, that is before I get a great five-week break before surgery. Then surgery would be the final blow for the cure. However,

Typical of Adam’s leadership at Blair was an incident with a boy on the team named John Mangini. John’s parents were going to pull him out of Blair and Adam didn’t feel that was the right move for John. John loved being at Blair but he wasn’t doing the things he should have been doing. He should have been getting straight A’s as he was a very bright kid, but he was coasting along with B’s and C’s. He wasn’t starting on the wrestling team so his dad got a bit upset with the whole situation and came to take him home. Adam came to me the day before John was to be picked up. He asked, ‘What if I hide John Mangini tomorrow?’ He was putting together this plan to hide John around campus so that his parents couldn’t find him. I told him, ‘Adam, I know nothing. If you hide him, that’s up to you. I can’t be any part of this.’ He goes, ‘Then I’m not going to say another word.’ ‘Perfect,’ I say. The parents show up the next day to take John home, but no one can find him. The administration was going crazy. They came to me asking, ‘Where is John Mangini?’ I told them, ‘I have no idea where John Mangini is.’ Adam was hiding him in different places around campus so they couldn’t find him. Finally, John’s parents got upset and left. John Mangini remained in school. Yes, Adam was a prankster but he was really looking out for the kid’s welfare. That was kinda Adam’s way of handling things.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

I have to pray that the tumor marker stays down and does not reactivate before surgery. I hope that made some bit of sense. I am in what we like to call chemo-brain. It is like the chemicals make it a little harder to think at times, so sometimes my writing is scattered and rambling. My mom, as she has every chemo dose, showed up and spent the whole day, sharing my boredom. She has been there through 40 chemo days. I think she deserves more congratulations than I do for actually doing it. She has to deal with me sleeping and being bored, I just sleep it away. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, who is, who was, and who is to come, the Almighty. – Revelations 1:7-8

And It Ended

Published on November 5, 2008 I am starting to come out of that feeling poisoned state I go through when I go through chemo and everything is starting to go back to normal. In about another week I should feel good, I hope. On Monday I was in bed, unable to sleep, feeling miserable, and with an internal chemical burn from the chemo. Um, to say it was painful was an understatement. See, the chemo is in such a high dose that it irritates the lining of the bladder and urethra. So, for the last few days I have been dealing with burning of those areas, which is annoyingly painful. Tuesday I was able to get my stem cells back in and was able to leave. I got my port pulled again out of my chest and it looks to be healing well. My morning doctor told me he would see me back in a few days. Needless to say, that irritated me a little because I am convinced I will not be going back in that hospital until surgery. I went through all of the sickness once, and that was enough. I guess most people expect people to get sick

and delayed with this program; however, I was the only person to not get delayed on my chemotherapy. I received every treatment on time. I am in a strange way proud of that, and thankful that I was able to have that level of toughness and that God was able to keep me sustained throughout the brutal regiment. Walking out of the hospital at about 5:00pm, I truly felt the relief of being done with this. It was almost emotional to be done with the chemo process after such a long grind. It is hard to put it into words the feelings you have when you know that no more of that poison is going to be pumped into you, and that you are on your way to permanently defeating the hardest opponent in your life. I have one more thing to do – surgery – but I can truly see an end to all of this. I am ready for it to end, I am ready to put this battle behind me, and I am certainly ready to get my hand raised over this disease. Cancer really put a lot of things into perspective with me and my life. Although it is a negative process and although it hurts and fatigues and causes doubt, anger, and fear, a lot of good has come out of it. My faith in God is much stronger than it ever was or than I could have thought it to be. I know, through experience, that when I need God there, he is there to get me through… of course, this may be at what we seem is a slight inconvenience for us, but he will. I guess you could say I always knew that God was there watching over me, but I understand in a better light of how awesome that watch was. Chemo taught me a bigger level of compassion; it exposed me to a better understanding of the human element in all of us. I think that after going through the unfathomable, you just understand compassion better. It is very hard to explain and is very surreal to me, but it is true. I feel that I understand and value life maybe just a little more than I did. With that said and those lessons learned, I would not have minded not going through

CHAPTER SEVEN everything, but the journey to the view atop the mountain is a rough one sometimes, right? I will put a little ad blip up here. I hope to have a book on this finished and ready for publishing by May of next year, after the surgery and everything is done with. I hope you all will have the opportunity to get it and give it a read. I think it is a good book, but I am biased. Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof. – “V for Vendetta”… my favorite movie, and fitting because today is November 5.

The Conversation

Published on November 9, 2008 I am more than anxious to get over the pain and struggle of the after-effects of the chemo and at times it is frustrating. This whole chemical burn thing is agonizing at times. So, like normally, I prayed, and this post is basically the answers I have gotten, starting from day one. God, you put me through this for such a long time, gave me cancer, and put me through pain, heartbreak, anguish, fear, and everything – why? Did it not make you stronger, your faith grow, and tougher? Well, yeah, but did you have to stick all of those needles through my wrists, those tubes in my heart? Would you have liked the nails driven through my own son’s wrists and feet, and the spear stuck in his side? Well, no, but did you have to take half my manhood? Did you not grow into three times the man? Okay, fine, but what about the time I was sick in the hospital and almost died? Why did you wait so long? Why did you have to push me to the brink like that? Do you not know now your true limitations?

When you prayed, I was there, and you know that. I let you go to the brink, but I was right there and did not let you go over. There was no easier way to show you truly how tough you are. Understandable, but what about all the time I was bed-ridden? How about those times in your life when you have to be patient? Okay, but you took my girlfriend away, come on, why would you do that? Did you need that drama to focus on, too? Remember my child, patience. Okay, okay, well I will have faith and trust you on that one. But what about all that I lost? I worked so hard for my strength and my speed and my ability. I gave you your talent to wrestle, remember. You can get it all back. But did you not discover the other talents that you have? I wanted you to use those ones for a little while instead. Okay, but still, look at me. I look so different now. I mean I don’t even see myself in the mirror any more. Look at how others look at you. Look at how you have inspired, driven and motivated. Well, I guess you are right, but I never asked to be a role model. I wasn’t prepared to be inspirational, and I surely didn’t ever think I would be in this mess. But you did it. And because you did it, when you needed support, it was there wasn t it? Well, yeah And when you needed strength, you found it through those people you didn’t want to inspire. Well, yeah. And every time you needed me, I was there, was I not? Have I not been by your side throughout this whole thing? Yeah, you have. Adam, although this may not have been your plan, it was mine. Your faith grew, you know that. You have become closer to me, and you know that. I am always there for you, and you know that. Stop asking these questions; just have faith that I will lead you to the right answers.

Jerry Frey adam’s father as a senior, Adam had a terrific season and post-season. Early in the year at the Ironman tournament, Blair and Great Bridge were neck-and-neck going into the finals. Adam wrestled a tough Matt Dunn in the finals and won 6-5. If Adam doesn’t win that, Blair loses their #1 ranking. Adam wrestled that match with a dislocated shoulder – most people didn’t know that. In the Dapper Dan, Adam knocked Stevie Bell out – then pinned him. I got to sit in his corner. All those great wrestlers were there – Nickerson, Metcalf, Schlatter, Gomez, Sanderson – yet they gave the Outstanding Wrestler award to Adam. He proved that he was the best of the best. That was my proudest wrestling moment alongside Adam. At Fargo he won in Greco and Freestyle. In Greco, Adam teched or pinned most everyone up to the finals, where he faced Hutchison from Alaska. We thought that was going to be a really tough match. Adam got a comfortable early lead and coasted to a close, but nice, win. In Freestyle, Adam pretty much teched or pinned his way to the finals as well. He had to face Jordan Frishkorn in the finals. He took him down early but got a broken nose. He had Frishkorn on his back and was pinning him but the referee stopped the match because Adam was bleeding profusely. Ray Brinzer stuck two pencils up Adam’s nose and pulled his nose out because it was flat. It became a close match because Frishkorn was smart enough to keep pushing into Adam’s face.

Out Of The Hospital, For The Last Time

Published on November 15, 2008 I finally got out of the hospital after another four days of being in there. While in the hospital I was urinating blood and passing blood clots that got as big as quarters. Until they got me on the right medication, it was a painful, tiring process. I did not sleep very much as my bladder was in spasms, causing me to urinate every 20 minutes. That started in the hospital a week ago and just really drained me beyond belief. However, the staff finally was able to get my bladder medicine and pain medicine corrected so I now I am able to get up to four hours of sleep without urinating, which is half the night and much better than the every 20 minutes. Needless to say, the pain of chemical burns running from my bladder to my penis on top of the sleepless nights compounded with being in the hospital had me in a foul mood to say the least, but it became better as the pain lessened and the sleep increased. Although I am out of the hospital, I am still very, very tired. This bout just exhausted me. My mom and I left for Blair for the weekend to watch my brother and the team wrestle tomorrow. I was able to get on the mat today and drill for a little bit here and there, but had to stop because the amount of drugs I am on causes me to be dizzy and nauseated. Fortunately, I still can do everything I could eight or nine months ago. My timing is obviously not all there, but the athleticism still is. I actually still feel pretty strong as well, which surprised me. I still have my speed too, which really shocked me. What I do not have is any type of shape. I guess all in due time. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. – Deuteronomy 31:6

CHAPTER SEVEN

Escaping

Published on November 21, 2008 on Monday I got cleared to wrestle and lift until surgery and I started taking advantage of the opportunity that night. Needless to say, training, or trying to train, is very, very draining on me, as the chemo still is inside of me, tearing me up. Being on my back (quite literally) for the better half of two months has taken its toll on me as well. I am nowhere near as strong as I used to be. I knew I would not be as strong, but I did not know how extreme the hit would be. I would say I am at about 66%. That is just strength; my stamina is zippo, zilch, and zero. In an experiment, I made it through a warm-up, drill, and half of a match before my body gave out…and when I mean gave out, I was not getting up for about 10 minutes. All in all it was about 15 minutes of going hard, and I was going as smart as I could have. Needless to say, no amount of mental toughness or will is going to beat what they call being chemoanemic. It is going to be a long way back. I feel I can get back, but in reality is it’s going to be March or April before I think I could be full strength, maybe a little longer to get my wind completely back and in wrestling shape. Anyways, I’m facing up to three surgeries. Or at least I was. The baseball in my lung, which progressed to three nodules, has shrunk further to one nodule 6mm by 4mm in size, or the size of a pencil eraser. It will probably not need to be removed, which saves me a lung operation, three more months of recovery, and a major setback. I am very afraid of lung surgery – the scar, the process, and the recovery. It just scares me. The tennis ball in my liver, part of what would be a two-for-one surgery of abdominal, then bringing in a separate surgeon for the liver, is now not needed, as the scans showed that the lesions were unidentifiable. The bowling ball-size tumor that went to a combined three nodes that were about the

size of an orange panned out to be a little more complex. From what I could make out of the conversation my mother had with the nurse, two were unchanged, showing that they are probably scar tissue that just is not being dealt with by my body right now. The active node shrunk to half the size, or the size of a golf ball. All three, I assume, have to come out. However, I do not know as I meet with the surgeon on Monday. My blood work came back better this time. Everything that needs to come up is coming up, and my tumor marker is 2.6, which is 0.6 away from being undetectable. By Monday, be it the Good Lord’s will, it will be considered gone, and because it has remained dropping for an extended period of time would thus be considered in remission (I need surgery to be cured). Of course, Monday has a lot of answers. I am very nervous about the surgery, to the point of having nightmares about it. I know it has to be done, but I am hoping it is not as bad as it was going to be before this all started. I do not want a foot-long incision. I am hoping it can be done through something smaller so I can bounce back a little faster and not be knocked back too much further… the chemo and other surgeries were enough. In fact, every Monday I have to face my fear of it coming back. It is a sigh of relief every time I get blood taken. It’s pretty hard, you know, because that little HCG test is life or death to me, quite literally. If it comes back, it is a very hard uphill battle, again, like highdose chemo was enough… honestly though, I don’t think anything could have survived that chemo I went through, it was just too much. Well, tomorrow at around 7:00EST, I will be on the air broadcasting the Cornell vs Penn State match, which is a fundraiser for my medical bills. If you can make it, please come and support. It should be a great match, but if (you can) not (make it), it will air on www.takedownradio.com.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident. – Psalm 27:3

Big Weekend Recap

Published on November 24, 2008 I have taken a few days hiatus to do all of the things here and there at Cornell. So, I guess we will start from the top. After the long drive to East Hill, I showed up to more of what could be described as a happy mob. The night was started by the induction of wrestling alumni into the Cornell Wrestling Hall Of Fame where after talking to about everyone, I was put on the spot to give a talk. Now, I knew I was going to be put on the spot, and I knew I should have prepared something, but in typical fashion, I was not and had to adlib my way through a five-minute eternity. I guess a person in my position on my day cannot really mess up anything so, that was the end of that. Quickly, I made my way down to the broadcast table to broadcast the Cornell vs. Penn State match. With my good friend Scott Casber we jumped on the TDR broadcast and the match fortunately went my way. Again, I have no idea of how I did, but, for first-timers, I hoped I managed among more experienced and professional broadcasters. Cornell was able to get on an early roll and by halftime was up 12-4 in front of a capacity crowd. At half-time, I was announced in front of a standing ovation in one of the most emotional moments on a wrestling mat. I got a memento of the advertising poster for the match, signed by the entire Cornell team. The poster actually was of me wrestling, something I did not expect. For anyone there, it was moving, and for me it was very touching. The match ended up 24-10 in favor of Cornell, ending a very good night. We headed to dinner and after midnight were able to get to bed and prepare for the next day.

An exhausted Adam was able to join the broadcast the next day for the Body Bar tournament and give the play-by-play and commentary of the tournament for the rest of the day. It ended up being another long day, and another one with a ton of attention… it was tiring, but I will not deny that I enjoyed greatly being in the spotlight. A special thanks has to go out to Andy Noel, Rob Koll and the Cornell team, the entire Cornell Family, Scott Casber and his folks at Takedown Radio, and everyone who attended, donated, and made the weekend special. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything. – Ephesians 5:19-20

Risk and Reward, Risks and Rewards, A+B=C – Which Evil is Lesser?

Published on November 26th, 2008 Let’s start with the choices. The spot in my lung is borderline. It is shrinking at the rate of normal scar tissue and could dissipate over time. My doctor wants it out; I don’t want a second surgery. I mean, it is not active, has not been active, and is smaller than a key on your computer keyboard. So, to get this small thing out, it would be a cut through my chest, ribs, with 5% of my left lung possibly removed by a doctor whom I cannot stand and do not trust at all. It was the guy who put my port in, with the fellow who numbed the wrong side of my chest and thrust the eightinch cable through me without anesthetics. That’s scary in the respect that it may limit what I can do when I make my comeback to the sport of wrestling. Now, I can have these surgeries and live a ‘normal and healthy life,’ so they say. But, I never ever strived to be ordinary, I want an extraordinary life, I have goals and dreams and aspirations in the world of wrestling, and

CHAPTER SEVEN

Adam joined broadcaster Scott Casber at the microphone for the Body Bar Classic at Cornell in November, 2008. Cornell University

I want my shot to achieve them, and this surgery won’t help any. So, yes, as far as being an ordinary guy who can cut his grass on Sunday and play some tennis or something, yeah, it won’t inhibit that. Reaching my goals of being a champion, well, we are out to lunch on that one. Now, the abdominal surgery. Apparently, the spot on my liver, which is smaller than the one on my lung, is something my doctor wants out, too. This surgery would be a twofor-one during my abdominal surgery, which I figured I would have to have anyways, but that is quite complex. My tumors surround three critical areas. One is my aorta, the other my inferior vena cava, the third is a special nerve that controls particular sensations below the belt, to put it eloquently. Obviously, if one of the two main blood vessels in my body gets cut, then I die. If that special nerve gets cut, well then I would probably kill

myself after going insane. And for everyone out there, please think about it before you make a comment – that would be losing the ability of arousal and everything else for the rest of my life. These three tumors would be the size of a golf ball each. The incision would be about a foot in length and go straight through my abdomen, again crucial muscles that I need to be successful in wrestling. Would I be able to do a sit-up? Yes. Would I be able to get the strength and flexibility to be a champion again? Well, no one knows. The reward for having the surgery is the security of knowing my cancer is gone forever and will never come back. If I do not have the surgeries, I can start training and getting back to life asap. The biggest risk is the teratoma, which is benign cells that turned from cancer into actual tissues (such as bone and cartilage and nerve) basically in the wrong place. My cancer is

92 ADAM FREY:sports A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Scott Casber broadcaster As a broadcaster I started watching Adam wrestle while he was in high school. I saw him wrestle in person and watched a lot of tape of his matches. I thought he was fun, exciting; he was a bit sarcastic in his wrestling style, which I think is the greatest comment I can give him vis-a-vis his wrestling. His style had an edge to it. It wasn’t until Adam was diagnosed with cancer that we got to be very good friends. We spent many, many hours on the phone talking with each other. We often talked while he was receiving his chemo treatment and I’d try to keep him on the phone as long as I could to exhaust him so that he’d fall asleep through the worst of it. We grew together during those 21 months; I loved him. I’m naturally attracted to puppies, to children, to people who seem to need my help. Hence, I was attracted to Adam and it was as much for him as it was for me. I saw where Adam felt a sense of accomplishment as he went through all his treatments. It seems a bit counter to the end result but realistically every day was yet another mountain climbed. In many ways he outlived the reality of the disease which will take most people much quicker. He was very ‘Pittsburgh-ish’. That boy loved his sports teams. He was very proud of his hometown, proud of his brother. One of my biggest thrills was having the chance to broadcast the Body Bar tournament in 2008 with Adam. It was a cold and snowy day in Ithaca. Coach Koll made Adam available to me and spending those 12 hours or so together was very special. We worked side by side, we intermingled our voices and he’d add

much more detail because of his personal interaction with his fellow teammates. That made the broadcast that much better because he could communicate very wisely what was going on with the athletes out on the mat. I was enjoying the process tremendously and Adam did so as well. Being next to Adam was very much like static energy. It was like putting your tongue on a fresh nine-volt battery. Full of energy, very, very lively – that’s perhaps the best description I can give of him. After the Body Bar tournament, I went out to dinner with Adam and his family. Going out to dinner with Adam was always a real treat. In between bites you couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. He was a very chatty fellow, never afraid to stand up for his opinion. I recall the intensity of the conversation. The meal was enjoyable, with Adam having a big huge steak, and the discussion that went on at that table was amazing – so intense. After that, Adam was a guest on my radio show a couple of times and he’d give updates on his progress in fighting the cancer. One day he surprised me with a call saying, ‘Hey Scott, I’m going to start my own radio show.’ I told him, ‘Great, but I don’t need any more competition.’ The last person I wanted out there was a guy who knows how to talk and number two, knows what he’s talking about. He told me, ‘I want you, Scott, to be my first guest because you are my best inspiration.’ I said, ‘You want me as a guest? I’m not that interesting.’ He came back with, ‘I want you and I want Rob Koll.’ For me that was a tremendous compliment – to be included in any kind

CHAPTER

of broadcast with somebody of that stature.’ When Adam said that, it all came around – that he did love me and that I did love him. More than that, he respected the time we had together. I really never wanted that time to end. I loved that kid. He’s a prime example of what I’d like every athlete out there

to be more like. He understood what college athletics is really about. It’s not about winning or losing; it’s not even about the competition. It’s about the process of what you end up being. Adam got it. That’s the brilliance of Adam’s last 21 months. Adam was an angel on this planet. I know I am better today because of him.

ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

from defective sperm cells that when they stop being cancer, turn into these tissues that are responsible by the sperm cell which are bones and cartilage and the whatnot. The chance that down the road it will turn again is about 25%. That gives me about 75% of a chance to live, love, and prosper, just as I was. I have been told my organs are in impeccable shape even still and that I will recover fully from the chemo. I need a little cosmetic work, like a few facials to get rid of some of the marks the chemo left, but after that I am all fine well and dandy. No surgery and I am predicted to be 100% ready to step on a mat by May. Surgery puts me back to almost September. So, over my turkey this year, I get to ponder a meeting with a surgeon(s) to decide what is best to do. I meet the surgeon on December 3. Needless to say, this is weighing on me heavily. I’ve talked about it, and am preparing to pray about it. I like to let my emotions settle before talking to God on any important decision, so I can figure out not what I want, but what will be right. That will be the biggest influence on my decision. So, right back into the grind of things. My mind is taxed, and my body is going through a killer withdrawal. I almost feel like I can relate to anyone going through anything. As of right now, I can fully understand why people relapse into drugs… because the withdrawal is insanely hard to handle, even for someone who has made metaphorically a few trips through hell. Hopefully it will start wearing off and I can start feeling normal again. Well, good news is my marker is lower, my hearing is still like a dog’s, and my own bed awaits me tomorrow. We can gather our thoughts, but the Lord gives the right answer. – Proverbs 16:1 Commit your work to the Lord, then your plans will succeed. – Proverbs 16:3 We can make our plans, but the Lord determines

our steps. – Proverbs 16:9 We can throw the dice, but the Lord determines how they fall. – Proverbs 16:33 …in fact, the whole chapter is imperative to read.

Thanksgiving, And Maybe Another Option

Published on November 28, 2008 Let’s start off for what I am thankful for. I am firstly thankful to be here, to have such great family and friends, and to have all of you. I am thankful that the Lord chose me to be an inspiration and an influence in a positive way. I have had the new song “Live Your Life” in my head for a bit, and it starts off saying be thankful for what you do have. I guess until you almost lose everything you don’t quite value and realize what you do have. Every day I get further from Sloan-Kettering and cancer and the pressure of chemo. I feel more like myself. I am starting to train hard again, well, as hard as I can. I am watching my weight, and I am contemplating a third option that seems to be most clear to me: Postponement. I know that sounds strange, but let me explain. I have this belief that I can get back and compete this year. February, be ready for the big show, and in the end, that is all that matters. I feel I can come back and be able to help my team. I know I can contribute. Right after the tournament is spring break, which means wrestle, then have surgery. I may be able for once in this whole ordeal to have my cake and eat it. Secondly, everything is still shrinking. If it comes back, all bets are off, and I get cut. If it stays remittent for four short months, then I wrestle, get surgery, finish the year academically, and get strong over the summer. It will take a degree of mental toughness, but I feel I am tougher than the task at hand to balance it all. As of right now, this is what I want to do.

CHAPTER SEVEN I am going to ask the surgeon what he thinks, and then make a final decision. However, I think this may just be the best for both me mentally (as in getting back into it and being away from another hospital stay – seven days – for the time being), and physically (getting the demon out of my body for good). Nothing is official, but I am getting down, watching my weight, and getting prepared to make a comeback. I am five days away from knowing for sure. I talked about it, prayed about it, asked my friends about it, and it seems logical. It seems like something that may be the right path. Of course, things are never how they seem, but hey, maybe for once it may be. That said, the cancer is replaced with the old competitive fire that I once had. I feel good. I am wrestling from what I feel is almost at my most elite level. I am some timing and conditioning away from being able to go again. I wasn’t sure, but now I am. I can train correctly again. Maybe not as consistently, or as hard, or as long, but fortunately, a match is only seven minutes, and after this cancer… I can do anything for seven minutes. Don’t ever bet against me. – Brett Favre

Chapter eight

I Guess You Can’t Take Pittsburgh Out Of The Boy

Published on December 1, 2008 Today is Monday. I was supposed to travel back to NJ yesterday, but I talked with my dad and decided against it. I realized this at about 5am on yet another sleepless night, this being Friday night. Let’s start about 12 hours before that time. Friday afternoon, I go to work out with my brother and as I start telling him how to train, he starts snapping back. A few hours later, I am still fuming from not getting my way in his training, when he said he wanted a break. A break. Biggest tournament of the year is in a week and he wanted a break. Preposterous. I went out that night, met some friends, and one of them for an hour begs me to get the surgery done, with tears in her eyes. Options started going through my mind. It is a huge decision, and I don’t yet know what I am going to do. I in a way am burnt out. I’ve fought for eight months now for every second of my existence against cancer, its ups and downs going through treatments that only 12 people have gone through so far… the toughest treatments they can give out. I fought by the rivers

of my home town all the way to the jungle of the great city of New York. I fought in operating rooms and in hospitals and in bed and at mealtime and every day it was harder than what I gave off. Basically I fought to control my emotions around those who were always around me. I felt like I was going to cry. I hadn’t cried yet, throughout the entire experience. I’ve been close, but I haven’t… I witnessed my mother cry twice during this, the only times I have ever seen her do so. At 1:00, I was fitting myself into my high school three-piece suit to attend my friend’s wedding. He cried when he heard what I had to go through. I remember that day at the gym and it seemed everyone was crying, well everyone but me. It’s hard to call people and explain to them what you are going through, knowing it is going to hurt them in some way. I understand why my friends would not call me as regularly, but ask my dad or others about my situation. I guess it was a fairy tale, but not a very good one that could become a reality at any time. I guess they didn’t want to be faced with losing a friend. I know they knew not what to say and would prefer to say nothing. I hold that against no one.

97 Anyways, that day before I left I gave him and everyone else my word that I would have it kicked by Thanksgiving. Whether it be that person crying at a table across from me, or my friend crying just five months before he became married, I gave them my word. I gave my word that I would be there, so, there I was. If there is one thing I do, it’s keep my promises… well, the very serious ones. But, I always try my hardest to keep them. It’s what I fight for. There I was at the wedding. It is surreal seeing your friends go out and start lives of their own. It is hard to understand how people from your past have stayed along with you or even re-emerge back into your present. You see the transformations, the steps of growing up I guess. Well, anyways, there I was tearing up in the pew around friends, as many of us were, as my buddy took this amazing step in his life. In a way, we all think about that special day. For me, I wondered if I was ready for that, even though I want to get married, be serious, something. It’s like surgery, though, I don’t know if I am just ready. Scheduling surgery is a terrible thing. You go and meet with the doctor who smiles as he is telling you he is cutting you. You hear what you will be unconsciously going through. You wander off to the future to try to locate and picture the marks on your body, the effects, the pain. You run through formulas as the surgeon starts sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher. And then, without time to contemplate what the hell you are about to go through, there is a slot opened and a consent paper stuck in your face with a pen in your hand. You either sign it or you don’t… it’s the classic all-in move on life. I’m just not ready to take that step yet. The reception was great. There was an open bar which we all took advantage of. It was a great dinner, a beautiful wedding, and a great day. I guess I could or should put in an exclamation point.

I asked that night if I could stay for a few more days, rest, more mentally than physically, mostly emotionally. Like any warrior, I too am neither invincible nor tireless. I needed a little more than two days to get a full break. I know my mother wants me cut one week from today. I don’t know if I want it at all firstly, but after the wrestling season, in a month, if I want to go back and wrestle and go to school, if I want to sit around for a few more weeks and procrastinate while I get my will to fight back up again. Heck, I don’t even know what underwear I am going to put on today. I am writing this in a towel on my laptop after getting out of the shower. I guess the security of knowing my insecurities led to me sleeping through the night. It led me to sleeping through last night too. It is the first time I have done that since starting this process. Even my bladder has slowed down spasming and I am down to urinating only like five times a day like a normal human being. Honestly, that is a big and positive change. Well, I guess we all wait and see. I am within 48 hours of figuring out what I am going to do. I would like to congratulate the new couple of Mr. and Mrs. David Hawk Jr. and wish them again luck through all of their trials and endeavors.

The Pocket Veto

Published on December 5, 2008 So, I didn’t say yes, I didn’t say no. I said I’ll wait for another two weeks to sign the consent if I consent to have the surgery sometime in mid-January. So, it is the old pocket veto, or maybe filibustering, or maybe delaying the inevitable. Surgery, however, is becoming more and more sobering. They may have to take a kidney now, due to the location, which would end the life I want to live as they know it. It is a hard deal,

Jerry Frey adam’s father As a senior at Blair, Adam was one of the most highly sought after wrestlers in the country by the college wrestling coaches. He finally narrowed the choices down to Cornell, Penn, Brown, Virginia and Northwestern. There are a number of good stories that are connected with Adam’s recruiting visits but the one I like best involves his trip to Northwestern. When Adam went on his recruiting visit to Northwestern, he stayed with Jake Herbert, an old Pennsylvania wrestling friend. During the visit Jake mentioned that he held the record amongst the wrestlers at Northwestern for the most pull-ups – 55. Adam asked Jake, ‘Can anybody go for that record?’ and Jake said, ‘Yeah.’ Adam got on the bar and did 75. Adam told me later, ‘I probably could have done about 10 more, dad, but I could see they were getting irritated.’

not a good thing, and living life with one kidney is risky. I would never wrestle again. The surgery is not laproscopically operable due to the location, and while I was assured that no muscle damage would be done, the surgery puts me another four months back. It is 10 days in the hospital, another two months of doing nothing but walking, and four months before I can start coming back. The atrophy and boredom may just kill me. It seems almost depressing to go through that. If I have it, I will live, though. For certain I will live. The doctor would not tell me my odds of it not coming back if I don’t get surgery. I did not like that. I work in forms of concrete numbers, as my friend so well put it for me. I hate making decisions against what I want, not based on any hard rational. It’s like everything is circumstantial. As one pursuing a degree in law, I don’t like circumstantial. So, I have a couple more weeks to see what to do. Other than that, I am in Ohio, ready to coach at the toughest high school tournament in the country, the Ironman. It is a great environment to wrestle in, and I hope the rush of coaching is near the same. I do miss it terribly. Maybe just a sip of it can quench the thirst. That said, our boys are ready to go, so here we go. Onward and upward. Explain rationality to an irrational person.

Rock And A Hard Place Revisited

Published on December 11, 2008 My dad talked to the doctors and they basically told him what I think they did not want to tell me. He got my answers, which was probably easier getting without my mother there trying to sway me or without scaring her and I. Basically, if I don’t get it, I die. Probably within two years I would die a cancerous death. I can’t put it off because of the risks, and I basically have to face my biggest fear from the start and get completely sliced to hell and back. I get to welcome the new

CHAPTER EIGHT year with another four months of idleness. At least it will finally be gone. Also gone will be what I like to think is a nice-looking six pack, maybe my sex life, and maybe my career wrestling. With it will go more muscle, more time, and probably more frustration and, of course, more pain. I have no other options and am basically stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’ll live, I guess. If I can get through the four months and maybe rehab and work hard and not lose a kidney and still have normal function of my reproductive system and get plastic surgery down the road, I’ll maybe even return to being my normal self. I’m self-conscious enough as it is. With every slice, I kind of get more so. I guess some people just don’t get what they want. Cake, not a big cake fan, but it would be nice to have maybe a piece or a few crumbs of your cake sometimes. Having the cake and eating it, too… that seems almost outlandish after eight months of taking proverbial punches to the jaw and getting back up. The idea of it sort of put my fire out. My motivation is pretty much gone. I almost just want to have as much fun as I can before having to go on a no-fat diet, sit on my butt, and waste away even more. Another 30 pounds would put me at 120. I was more than that as a 15-year-old kid. I almost can see myself just wasting away, everything I worked for getting cut out. Everyone says work harder, work harder, work harder. I’m looking upstairs asking for a break. I just don’t feel like being up at Blair; I don’t feel like only coaching and just that. I feel like being able to do things. I feel like being a 22-year-old kid for a little bit. Like always, I am at the point where I want what I can’t have. It would be nice to be able to wrestle, work out, and look forward to something other than being put three more steps back. It would be nice to not have to battle cancer like 99.99% of other guys my age. I mean, I

beat it, apparently. I just wish I didn’t have to do this, too. If you ever felt like life hit you like a Mack truck, I feel like I have been hit by an eight-month-long convoy with another four months coming. When the dust settles, it would be a year of fighting cancer – 5% of my life dedicated to fighting something no one deserves to fight. It is a surreal feeling in almost a negative way to know you are going to go to sleep and wake up looking different, feeling different, and maybe having to be different for the rest of your life. I sure hope not. He [God] will wipe out every tear from their eyes. And death will be no more. Neither will morning, nor outcry, nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away. – Revelations 21:4

Life’s Epicenter

Published on December 13, 2008 a famous author named Homer wrote a book called The Odyssey way back when. If you have not read it, I encourage you to. It is basically about a guy who fought in the Trojan War and was one of those who came up with the idea of the infamous Trojan horse. He goes to return back to the city-state where he is king just to find out he angered the Gods who spew him off course, take his crew, and put him through this odyssey. That seems like me in a way. Not really, maybe here is a better example. Out of boredom in the hospital on YouTube I ran across the story behind Tarot cards. A fool starts on a journey ambitious with his bags packed with everything he needs. Along the way he runs into a bunch of different figures – death, the devil, a magician, a priest and priestess, a hierophant, lovers, angels, etc. and not in this order, but the point is what we are shooting for. Along the journey, he gains and loses, goes through good times and bad, and most of all comes around into a complete circle of being and knowledge.

100 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Steve Garland wrestling coach at university of virginia I was Rob Koll’s assistant coach at Cornell when we were recruiting Adam. Rob and I had a great home recruiting visit to the Freys. We are all dressed up in our suits and ties when Adam and his father come from their house to greet us as we climb out of our car. Jerry tells us that before we are allowed in the house, one of us has to climb this rope attached to a large tree in the front yard. Well, Rob said he’d do it, and with his coat and tie still on, he goes up the rope, hand over hand, right to the top. That was good enough for the Frey family so they then welcomed us into their Steve Garland’s personality was a significant factor in Adam’s decision to attend Cornell. Eric Kelley Photography home. The first hour or so was him wrestle. After the match we brought a little tense, making small talk and so on. But then Jerry takes us down him back to Ithaca with us. During the to his basement where a wrestling drive up, Adam had mentioned how mat covers much of the space. We much he enjoyed fishing, so Rob asked spend the next several hours down him if he wanted to go out – right there there, demonstrating moves, counters, and then when we got to Ithaca – and and various situations. There was no try their luck catching some fish. Adam wrestling per se, yet it was all wrestling said ‘sure.’ I backed out because it was talk as we sat cross-legged on the mat about midnight and I’d already put in an for the better part of the evening. 18-hour day, but Rob was game for it. Everyone was very engaged. The two of them actually headed out On the way home, Rob and I agreed to a little lake outside of town in the that we thought it was one of our best middle of the night on Adam’s first visit recruiting visits ever and we had a lot of to Cornell. confidence that Adam would come to I’m not sure who caught the most Cornell. fish but I bet it was very competitive, The next time I saw Adam was when knowing those two guys. Rob and I went down to Blair to watch

Cindy Frey CHAPTER adam’s mother Both are examples of adventures that sort of take you as the wind blows (quite literally in Homer’s classic, due to the effect of the wind on the sails). I feel with everything I have gone through and the tribulations I have faced as well as all the good that has fallen along my path that I can see, loosely, a more literal meaning in both stories. I don’t think I upset God, but I faced my demons, monsters, sirens, and even almost crossed the proverbial River Styx. At the same time, I packed my bags very long ago with everything I needed and set off to private school, college, the cancer journey, having ups and downs and meeting people who have influenced my thinking in becoming a complete human being in the way that the symbolic hierarchy of tarot plays out… at least how it was explained to me via a YouTube link that went here then there, over hill and dale, and… well I am sure you know how it goes. Too much idle time, but useful time nonetheless. Anyways, both characters end up completing their circle back to where they started – their epicenter. Ulysses made it back to his kingdom. The fool actually cycles through until his judgment, reaching the epicenter of the Self (yes, capital S, good term to look up). And here I am circling back to the beginning of my journey, away and on my own at Blair. For a very long time, my epicenter in life was the wrestling room. Understand life inside a padded room and you could very much so understand me. In a way it still is. I have just cycled. Instead of being mentored, I find myself mentoring. I find myself teaching instead of being taught. Here is the big tying together of this entire rant. I guess that although you may get diverted, or your path may change, somehow everyone is always brought back to their epicenter, the definition and foundation of their particular being. It may or may not be a comfort zone, but more or less the niche you may or may not have carved out, but are most com-

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Adam was really happy at Blair – he formed a wonderful relationship with Coach Buxton. They had like a shared leadership role and would talk all the time about how to make the team better. We were told that he was the highest recruited wrestler in the country because he had both the wrestling and academics working for him. He was frighteningly intelligent. During the recruiting process his senior year, Adam went to visit five different schools. After his visit to the Cornell campus he informed us, ‘I feel most comfortable here.’ Coach Buxton told us that he thought Cornell would be the best fit for him. Adam wanted to study law and he had read that Cornell had the #7 ranked Pre-Law school in the country as part of their College of Arts and Sciences. That was a big selling point. But I think the thing that mostly tipped the scale in Cornell’s favor was the assistant coach, Steve Garland.

Garrett Frey Adam’s BROTHER Adam really liked Steve Garland. He liked Rob Koll, too, and he liked how well the program was doing. But, he really loved Garland. Garland’s kinda goofy and they could be laidback friends yet they were both very competitive on the mats. Of course, Garland was only there for Adam’s first semester when he had his bad shoulder. Adam learned a lot from Koll, too, because those two guys would wrestle together in the room even though the coach was bigger.

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fortable in. It is almost like coming back from vacation and realizing how nice your own bed is. It is your epicenter, your home. My cycle as an athlete may or may not be over. The doctors are confident it won’t, which is great. But it is just a cycle. It will end and another one will begin. If you believe in the afterlife, and this runs concurrent with the tarot story as the death card is not the end, the death of something is not the end, but the rebirth. In a spiritual sense it is the rebirth into heaven or hell as a particular entity or angel. In the sense of reality, we see many things die, such as careers and relationships, just to be reborn as something different and new. To put it into perspective, when I crashed my car, the life I was living came to a halt and a new life began with new opportunities and challenges. I had the opportunity to write and write a book and all of that, the challenge of cancer, and a different diversion from the path I was on. This new life brought me back to the same epicenter I had seven years ago when I was a high school freshman just starting out, as the fool, with everything I needed packed, eager, but stupid. Strangely, it is the same epicenter now as it was then. This is because my major duty now is coaching wrestling. It is my only real job of the day. I coach and train, maybe hit the weights a little, eat and hang out. That would be about all for me. My life revolves around practice. When I committed to being the best wrestler I could be, my life revolved around school and practice, and the central location for that roughly would be the wrestling room on a campus map of Blair. It was the epicenter, then as now, figuratively and literally. Imagine the irony of that. You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I trust. – Psalm 91:1-2

Irony At Its Best

Published on December 19, 2008 two days ago I got sized for my new suit that I picked out in August. We figured that now that I put on my size it would be good and with signing the surgery papers the next day and the holidays and that, it would be a good thing to get it now. On Thursday we were going to pick that up, sign the consent, and move along. Thursday came and we were stuck waiting for about an hour. Put into a consultation room, a social worker, the surgeon, and my oncologist walked in. My HCG went from remission at 2.3 all the way back to 266. A blood test the next day put it at 320. My cancer is back and with a vengeance. I was escorted from test to test and was in the hospital for a 17-hour day. Another PET scan, another CT scan, more blood work, meetings with four doctors, and phone calls to even more were put in. I don’t think there is much more to say other than surgery won’t work– everything shrunk, and a spot smaller than a computer key just won’t die. For the second time, I was one round away from putting it away. Now I sit here fighting a very uphill battle. I have to pick between one of four gambles that may give me up to a 15% chance to live. The chemo is not nearly as bad as what I went through, and this round involves more antibody studies that attack the tumors and open them up to another type of chemo. I get to start before the New Year and hopefully they can get it to remit for enough time to undergo surgery. I was two weeks away this time. It’s like every time I knock this thing down, it gets back up. I really do not or will not know anything more until Monday. The optimism is that the new drugs will eat the teratoma, leaving the option of a laparoscopic surgery very possible, if I even make it to the table. It’s going to be a difficult thing. The chemo won’t be hard

CHAPTER Jordan Leen ADAM’S CORNELL TEAMMATE AND AN NCAA CHAMPION I was a couple years ahead of Adam at Cornell and consider myself fortunate to have him as my teammate for two years. I’ll never forget the first day that I met him at school. Adam was very much an ‘eye opener.’ The day he first stepped onto the Cornell campus, you couldn’t mistake this guy, with ears which extended that far out from the side of his head. He was probably the most well-built, jacked-up, 160-pound man I had ever seen up to that point. He made a real memorable scene that was pretty fun. Everyone I’m sure knows that Adam was a bit unconventional. He was unique and he established himself that way. He had his own way regarding how he liked to work out and it was kind of quirky sometimes. After his shoulder surgery that first year I would often see him lifting in the weight room. He’s in there doing shrugs in the 300 to 400-pound range. That’s what I try to dead-lift and I’m two weight classes above him. He said it was great shoulder therapy. I couldn’t argue that for a second because his shoulders were twice my shoulder size and he was still recovering from surgery. So here’s this guy who is extraordinarily intelligent; a guy who is extraordinarily talented; a guy who is extraordinarily built; and a guy who had an extraordinary personality. It all came together in this package that was fun to observe from the moment he came to Cornell. Here’s a little look at Adam’s personality. During the first month of school the fraternities, sororities and clubs up here hold parties and get-

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togethers to bring attention to their group. I remember Adam dressing up for one of these costume parties. He went wearing his headgear and singlet – that’s it. Adam had a memorable headgear that particularly stood out – and I think he liked it that way. That headgear could be nobody else’s; it was hilarious looking. Plus he slaps on his singlet and nobody looks more shredded than Adam in a singlet. I never really figured out if he thought it looked great or if he wore it because that was part of his extraordinary personality. But he went out partying full steam ahead without any second guessing. There was no worry about how anybody would take it. This is what he wanted to do and that was Adam. We all quickly learned that this is what we are in for – and it was pretty fun. He did not disappoint in any way, shape or form with all of the extraordinary facets of what made Adam ‘Adam.’ He was one of the most unique persons I have ever seen and I think the other people around me who got to know Adam better will say the same thing.

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Danielle Hobeika adam’s friend and webmaster Chris Fleeger was a good friend of mine and he and Adam were close friends. They were living together at Cornell at the time of my visit to Ithaca in August, 2007. I was in New York City making a living as a freelance photographer and graphic designer. I took a few days off to go up to Ithaca to help Chris pack – he was leaving Cornell. Adam and I bonded right away. Adam was adventurous and courageous. That weekend the three of us went to one of those beautiful gorges at Cornell. We were at this waterfall and Adam said, ‘I’m going to climb it.’ He got

almost all the way up to the top when he started to get into some trouble. It was pretty slippery and I could tell he was getting nervous. He slipped and fell from about 12 feet, but landed okay. That was a metaphor of sorts – he felt like he faced adversity and defied death. We became scrabble addicts – and I did win. It was always competitive as to who was better – Cornell or my alma mater, Harvard. After that weekend we talked a lot. Once it became known that he had cancer, I didn’t think it was possible that he would die. He gave everything to

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Adam shows his adventurous side while climbing one of Cornell’s beautiful gorges – he slipped and fell 12 feet, suffering minor cuts and bruises.

fighting it. After his car wreck, he told me that they found this tumor in his body. The word got out and the day they did the biopsy, everyone was waiting to hear the results. There were like 15 different websites talking about Adam’s condition. The next day I told Adam, ‘Hey, instead of all these websites carrying information about you and your condition and everyone getting a

different story, do your own website. That’s the easiest way of getting the story right. He liked that idea and we set up his blog. He wanted to document all that was happening – the physical, mental and spiritual stories. He wanted people to gain from his experience. A month into the blog he told me that ‘cancer has really opened my eyes to a ton of things.’ He took a negative situation and turned it into a positive.

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at all. In fact, it’s indefinite cycles and it’s virtually without side-effects. The truth is that biologically, something in there just will not die, and that makes it very difficult to beat. The two biggest guns have already been fired. All I have is this and then hopes and prayers that I can make it to 25. I’m 18 days shy of 23 right now. It’s probably about another year of chemo. For Christmas next year, I want to celebrate it without cancer. That’s it. Third time’s a charm.

My Gift Of A Game Plan

Published on December 25, 2008 SO, on Christmas Eve, I was back at Hillman talking to my original oncologist to figure out exactly what to do. It seems that SloanKettering again has the best game plan and the decision has been made to go there. I was able to see the chemical comparison that differs between the latest drug I will be taking with the first one. The whole regimen is called FULLFOX, which is an acronym for a few drugs. The oxyloplatin combined with another drug called gemcidavine is the backbone of this procedure. What FULLFOX does is combine another couple drugs to the equation, one being a new drug that is not yet approved called Flavoperidol, which has some interesting properties because it is a non-chemo drug, but in a way an antibody to cancer drugs that targets the metabolic regimens of cancer cells. This means the cells can no longer metabolize and divide, and throughout time they die. Now, this treatment shows such promise that in time, FULLFOX may be used as the standard treatment instead of the level three, throw a dart at a wall experiment for germ cell tumors. People have responses to this program that do not with the other two. I had responses, so it seems very promising.

More promising is an aggressive treatment that involves surgery. Because of the collapse I have had with the tumors, the hot spot can be laparoscopically removed, which is a surgery, but one that if in shape I can recover from and not miss chemo. The plan is to get my marker in remission again then either have the major surgery, or take out the most active spot, do more chemo, then take it out when it has been gone for over a month. I will not be able to wait for surgery, but go from chemo to the operating room within a week, assuming I am in shape. I told Dr. Feldman that I will be in the best shape of my life, because that is the best shot for me to save my life. I have to dedicate myself to training. I have been cleared to go back to school, but everyone agrees that it is best to concentrate fully on defeating the cancer and staying in shape so I can tolerate chemo and the surgery and finally put it away. The studies show I should have upwards of a 90% response if not total response to these drugs. The rest of the tumors will continue to collapse and hopefully I will be clear by July. I am not going to put a date on anything, but I will say there is not really a cause for an alarm. There would have been about five months ago, but the way modern medicine is accelerating, there is no reason. Other than that, Merry Christmas. And the angel answered her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy – the Son of God. – Luke 1:35

Truckin’

Published on December 28, 2008 let’s see where the last week has put me. I’m in Pittsburgh, and I am basically hanging out and working out. I’m pretty sore and ready for the Sunday off, for I have been hitting the weights as hard as I can for three to four hours a day. At least I can say I am getting sore and

CHAPTER EIGHT more sore by the day. I think tomorrow afternoon the plan is to travel back up to Liberty, PA to watch my brother wrestle in the Hurricane and I would imagine coaching the Blair team. From there it is back home, surgery to put in a mediport, and then my birthday. Then I start chemotherapy again January 8. I am hopeful that this round will work as the literal nightmares of being terminal and wondering what the pain of death would be like were haunting my sleep for a few days. I don’t know if it is dying that bothers me or just maybe not getting done what I wanted to get done on this earth. I’m not afraid of death; I already shook its hand with my staph infection. I am afraid that I won’t be able to do what I feel I can do to better this world to my fullest. I fear that I won’t get to reach the goals and ideals I had for myself. Other than that, I am basically truckin’ on and taking it day by day. I really am anticipating hearing great news about my marker starting to fall and maybe finally sometime down the road putting an end to this. I do know that my book is probably going to be pretty darn long by the conclusion of everything. I’m trucking along with that too, although it is a little hard to end it while I am still living the story. Well, keep truckin’. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender. – Winston Churchill

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Chapter nine

Happy New Year

Published on January 2, 2009 I hope you all got over your hangovers on New Year’s. I did not have mine, but I did go out for the festivities. I think my resolution is to get through the whole bible in one year. It shouldn’t be too difficult, as I have read it before, maybe even more than once, but another reading may send a different light on many of the things. I also will have my book ready to go this year… I can’t finish it, because there is no real ending, but I am getting there. So, tonight is Friday and I am laying low because tomorrow is the big party for my 23rd. It should be a fun time, and maybe something a little different because I was not supposed to live that long. Um, a little story on that note. So my mother and father used to ask me when I was acting up if I wanted to make it to___. Where the blank was was whatever age I was going on. Needless to say, they do not ever utter that little phrase to me anymore. My surgery cannot be done in Pittsburgh, so they moved it to the day after my birthday which is the 7th. I start chemo on the 8th, and hopefully my numbers have not skyrocketed

to be something fierce. I did cut out all of my dairy after getting a tip that the hormones in dairy fuel my type of cancer… I was drinking like half-a-gallon of milk plus protein shakes every day. Guess that would be why it was so active. So, that is basically the plan. I have been in the gym really training hard, trying to get back in shape to maybe even compete come April… be it the good Lord’s will and the creeks don’t rise. Competing in wrestling or not, I still have my sights on the Mr. Pittsburgh come May, so in about a month I will start my dieting for that. I probably can make do with less, but I need to put on size and I am anal about trying to do things right and look good, so I’ll have to get a program and stick to it.

Nose Back To The Grindstone

Published on January 5, 2009 I spent today recovering from the splendors of last night. It was a good time. A good amount of friends came over and we partied quite hard. It was, I guess, the party I always wanted but always had to sacrifice due to playing a winter sport. I spent my 21st birthday cutting 10 pounds because I had a match

109 the next day. I bought myself a six-pack out of spite and it sat in my refrigerator for about three months. So, for the first time since I don’t remember when, I was able to actually have a birthday party. Now I have a bunch of gifts in the form of bottles of different things that I won’t touch for another seven months or so. Let me just say it this once, irony is God’s sense of humor. I swear it has to be. But either way, it was a good time. However, as it always seems in life, it is back to putting my nose back on the proverbial grindstone and going through another round. Seriously, with everything, including the white hair, I feel more like 73, not 23. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. – Psalm 23:1

Long, Long, Long Days

Published on January 8, 2009 a lot went on the past three days. I don’t know of a better place to start than the beginning. With that said, I guess we will start on Tuesday, where I spent the day in the passenger seat of my little black car with my mother driving all of the way up to Ithaca to drop off my guest. After the five-hour drive took more like nine hours, I blew up. I was sick of driving half of what the speed limit was and finally convinced my father to convince my mother to let me drive the car. I was heated as we finally pulled into a hotel 13 hours after embarking. It was not how I wanted to spend my birthday. The next day was surgery and we had to get up at 8:00am after going to bed after 1am. The trip started off with sitting in traffic for almost two hours while they cleaned up a Haz-Mat semi that overturned in the freeway. That accident made the hour-anda-half trip take double that time. The hospital at least got me in and prepped quickly for the surgery of putting my port in. I was not put under, but I was heavily sedated and for-

tunately did not feel a thing until we hit the bumpy NYC streets. I realize that doctors tell white lies. The procedure was completely painless. The after-effects of the procedure were not so awesome. In fact, it really hurts to get a tube stuck through an incision in your jugular vein and run down over your clavicle, hooked into a button inserted above the right nipple through an inch-long incision. The port basically is a button-like device that runs into a tube that goes into my neck… all underneath the skin. It feels like something is stuck there and for the time being and probably the next week is severely uncomfortable and painful. It works, but being stuck in the port hurts, too. They say with time it will be less tender, but the needle bent into my chest did not tickle one bit when it went in today. Speaking of today, let’s start with 5am… the time we had to get up to make the CT scan. It started with us getting up, falling back asleep, and rushing out to the car at about six. My mother then made sure I was up by riding into oncoming traffic by going on the off ramp…it was a blast, but not really. So, we make it into the city to a new imaging place to drink the terrible contrast and get the scan… but not before getting an IV placed. This would be stick number one. Now here is where I lost it. I go in to get stuck and the nurse goes for the plump vein in my elbow that has blown like five times, including once yesterday as they tried to IV me. I told her that one does not work. If six people could not get an IV in that vein, surely I don’t want to attempt a seventh. She told me in broken English to let her do her job and as the needle was coming down on that very vein that the whole world knows blows out every time a needle is set, I said, “Woman get that away from me.” I went from nice to irate in about a second as my mother is trying to explain, via hand gestures, that the darn vein is spent. Basi-

110 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Curtis Roddy cornell teammate I was from Michigan and, like Adam, looking to go to a school that combined good academics and a good wrestling program. On my recruiting trip to Brown in the fall of 2004, Adam was also there and we struck up a conversation and a friendship. We talked some on the phone afterwards. When we both decided, independently, that we would be going to Cornell, we decided to room together. During the first semester freshman year we lived in the Town Houses with two other freshmen in a rather secluded area of campus. I was in the Ag school and Adam was in the Liberal Arts school. Adam had a lot easier time academically than I did. He had much better study habits and let’s face it, he was a brilliant individual. Whenever I had some difficulty with my classes I’d lean on him for some advice. He was always there to give me advice, which I really appreciated. Socially, Adam and I would go out and do what lots of other freshmen do – hang out with friends, maybe go over to a fraternity party on weekends. We didn’t hang out with the other wrestlers all that much. Most of the Cornell wrestlers aren’t into fraternity life. They keep to themselves in their own house and socialize with athletes from other sports teams. Every once in a while we’d go over to the wrestlers’ place and play some poker with the guys. One of the most memorable social times I had with Adam was the night he ‘flagged’ the pole at a Phi Gam party. We went over there, had a drink and were talking with some friends. Adam tells me, ‘Curtis, I’m going to flag this pole.’ Now this pole is about 15 to 20

Adam worked hard for his physique and was never shy at showing it off in public.

feet high outside the fraternity house, with lots of people standing around. Adam takes off his shirt – Adam loved to show off his physique – and went hand over hand up the pole. As he neared the top he leaned out horizontally for a few seconds. He was unbelievably strong. When he climbed back down, not everyone took his antic the right way; some of the fraternity brothers started giving him a hard time for showing off, so I got him out of there and we went back to north campus so as not to get into any confrontations. It was all pretty comical. Yes, he had a social life but most of his time was spent on wrestling and academics. Adam wanted to win a national championship so badly. He had such drive and intestinal fortitude for what he wanted to accomplish in college.

CHAPTER NINE cally, it has been stuck so much that there is scar tissue inside it so thick that a needle will just not get through. My elbow is permanently black and blue, and I permanently want people to not stuck sharp objects there. After about a half-hour she finally agreed to put it on the other side and by some painful miracle it went in. I begrudgingly did my CT scan and got out there still angry and cursing under my breath. I mean, just listen to the patient. If they say it won’t go, chances are it won’t go. Hell, I would love for every vein to work well and take the poison, it just doesn’t do that. From the CT scan we went over to the place where I will get my chemo to do a doctor’s appointment, an EKG of my heart, which still works mind you, and a chest X-ray to see if everything was properly placed and in working order. It was here where I got a second stick for blood work. The doctor’s appointment was good. Not quite as long as I would be used to, but I was warned of the side-effects and told it wouldn’t be so bad. I did get the good news from the scan saying that my tumors are shrinking still and that even the active node is the same size. It is about an inch-and-a-quarter by an inchand-three quarters, so like the size of a lime. Compared to a bowling ball, that’s progress. And it was expected to have doubled and spread in the delay between rounds, but it didn’t… I guess my not eating dairy due to a friendly word of advice from another survivor is helping. I don’t know my tumor marker, but it cannot be too high for nothing grew. From there I was told that it would take three more sticks to set me up for the chemo because it was experimental. It took another hour-and-a-half to mix the drugs and there were a lot of them. My mother and I escaped and ate and came back to get started. The young lass that was supervising or organizing our pod actually graduated from Cornell. In fact, small conversation led to the fact that

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we actually had a class together, although it was a lecture and I never seen her in my life. We did have a class together, though… small world I imagine. I was dropped off at the Shanamans’ for the next few days as my mom goes home and then back to watch Garrett wrestle with my father. I would have gone home, but while hooked up was told that as soon as the bag empties on Saturday, I have to be up at SloanKettering to do blood work and labs and be disconnected. For the first time getting it, I have to go through a number of precautions. It is only common sense, although inconvenient, for such a new treatment. I am the eighth person getting this done. It is that new. Although new, it is proving very effective in patients who were not cured from the other chemos. It works so well that this FULLFOX regimen will most likely be used as the first standard treatment in a few short years. It is easier on the body and more effective. I guess I fell into the best of both worlds after getting the hell poisoned into me. Round Three: FIGHT!

I’m Doing It

Published on January 17, 2009 I am going to do it. I made the decision; I’m doing something with my life other than sitting around here. I am going back to school. I got the idea from Coach Koll and, well, we made the plans and I am picking my classes out right now for the spring semester. I am looking at taking about 12 credits, three to four classes in all, and although it’s a light load by some standards, I will be a full-time student. Luckily, I can take my classes during the first three days of the week, leaving time to do chemo when I need to Thursday through Saturday with a day of rest Sunday before going to school on Monday. That would be the plan. Even luckier, two of the classes I will

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be in are basically on the same thing. One is the history of Rome, and the other is the history of Florence, which is basically a baseball’s throw from Rome. Yeah, I am that guy who finds shortcuts and plays the system… and yes, I scheduled classes on the same topic even before I was sick because I consider it being efficient, and because generally I don’t want to do more work if it needn’t be done. The other one that I am enrolled in is a religious studies course on the Israeli Prophets. That may change if I can maybe get into a creative writing course or another lecture, or something different altogether, but we shall see. On Monday I will be driving solo up to Ithaca to set up shop and start the school year. I will be missing the first day of classes because I have to get some things ready… and the Steelers game is on (yeah, I know that is a pathetic excuse, but it is the first day…. we all know nothing happens on the first day). More importantly, the weather should be clear for Monday, and the last thing I want to do is drive 15 hours. The six-hour drive will be fine enough. I figure I might as well do the deed and get some more hours under my belt. It will also be nice to be able to go to school and not have to worry about cutting weight, training fulltime, and everything else. I did get cleared to train, but I am nowhere near being able to cut weight, wrestle daily, or even make it through a practice. I will be up there to help go over video, maybe help with technique, scout, and grab a workout every now and then. So, while wrestling won’t be an obligation, it will still be there, but at my own pace. I am setting my goals up. First is to get more posts. During the summer, I had things to write about. Now, I sort of don’t. In a few days, I will have a ton to write about once again and I hope to be on here more like… daily. Second, and a bigger priority, is to get a

3.5GPA this semester. That may be a bit more of a challenge, but that is my goal, a B+/Aaverage. The school average is about a 2.7 at Cornell, so a 3.5 with everything should be a good benchmark to strive for. If I focus, there is no excuse for anything lower. Goal number three is to, by March, be in shape enough to consistently train. This means a practice and a lift every day. If I can get into shape enough to do that, maybe I can compete in some Freestyle/Greco in the spring. Which is ultimately goal #4: Wrestle again. Not just wrestle, but wrestle at a level that is satisfactory to me. Wrestle again how I want to wrestle. I know I really am going to have to buckle down and focus, but I am determined to get everything set straight and to jump right back into the fray. I think I have sat around for long enough. It is time for some action. I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope. – Red in “Shawshank Redemption”

Day One Of Class

Published on January 22, 2009 Yesterday was my first day back at school and it went better than expected. It was tiring because I am taking a full class load in two days. Sitting there is a bit of a drain, but I am sure that after a while I will be able to figure it out. My sleep schedule still is not as normal as I would like as well, which causes some problems. Here is what a typical Wednesday looks like for me: 7:50am: Wake up, roll out of bed, go shower.

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Adam returned as a student to snow-bound Cornell in January, 2009 after a nine-month absence.

8:00am: Flex in the mirror for about five minutes, while shaving and brushing my teeth. 8:10am: Get dressed and grab a Mountain Dew as I get into my car, thinking, ‘Wow it is cold today.’ 8:30am: Look for a parking spot, park, and pay a ridiculous amount for a parking fee. 8:39am: Arrive exactly one minute before the start of my religious studies class on Israeli Prophecies (which still makes me early). Very interesting course; seems to be graded on one major project with checkpoints throughout the term. The project is very open and up to choice. Should not be too annoying. 9:10am: Actually begin to wake up. 9:55am: Leave class, grab a bite to eat, and hang out for an hour. 11:10-12:05pm: Attend my Roman History class (which is my lowest level course, but looking at the syllabus is definitely my most annoying, hands down, by far). 12:20-2:30pm: Lunch and errands – of course, this time will probably be used for a

nap later on in the semester. 2:55-4:10pm: Florentine History. This seems to be an upper-level class that fortunately has a very easy syllabus. Has a lot of reading, but no final, no midterm, and basically three five-to-seven-page essays. For me, essays are a joke. 4:20-??: Practice 7:00-8:00pm: Eat dinner, pack, and get gas. 8:00-10:30pm: Drive disgruntled and annoyed through the rural tundra to Blairstown searching the entire way for one, just one, clear radio station. 11:00pm: Finally get to sleep. So, here I am right now waiting for them to mix my chemo. I had to get up at like 5:30 because my mother thinks that if we don’t leave in the middle of the night, we will never make it to anything on time. We were an hour early, just going to say it, I don’t like showing up anywhere an hour early. Anyways, my numbers all look good and I am a go for the chemo today. So, they are

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mixing the poison now and I hope to be out of here by like 3:00pm. Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.’ – Mark 10:27

Results

Published on January 23, 2009 I am tired but other than that I have taken this round pretty well… much better than the one before. I slept for most of the day and did as much reading as I could to get ready for Monday class. I’m up at Blair right now and probably am looking to drive back tonight and get my plug pulled tomorrow. Um, my tumor marker came back today and it had a big spike, one that leads doctors to believe that the chemo is working rather well. In all patients to date, the marker has spiked and then come down over time. This is basically the death and explosion of the new cancer cells. Their explosion releases much more of the tumor protein into the blood and causes a spike. What happened is that my number increased to a point that is mathematically impossible given my tracked cancer growth rate. It did the same thing in both rounds previously, then it had a drastic plummet. I am hoping it does the same, and probably should do the same. Only time will tell, though. It feels like it is working, and hopefully it is. Fortunately, tomorrow I get unplugged and can be normal for another week and a half. Every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything. – Hebrews 3:4

Sore and More Sore

Published on January 29, 2009 Wednesday morning I was reintroduced to Ithaca weather when the Good Lord decided to dump lots of white stuff on the ground. I

live up a windy and long driveway that somehow collects huge snow drifts. My first class was spent digging and towing my car out for two hours. My second class was spent doing the same and then when I realized I would miss half of the class anyways, I surrendered to my stomach and spent it eating breakfast at a diner with a cup of coffee, still freezing my little buns off. I hit up my next class, which is Florentine History, or what seems like Mafia 101. By looking at the traditions and the families, I swear you can see how the mafia was forming overseas in 1200. I swear. It is interesting though… good, clean, wholesome fun… or possibly the other end of the spectrum… whatever you take from it. After class, and being sore from practicing the day before, I was ready to get a little liftypoo in and a little light drill, the ones that probably don’t do anything other than make you feel better about yourself… at least they make me feel better about myself, when I got coerced into going harder than I wanted to after my lift. As a fun experiment, Coach Koll decided to put me (along with the rest of the team) through a little treadmill workout. The workout is very rudimentary. In fact, my grandmother could do it… just not for very long. You could call it sort of an oxygen capacity test of sorts. You put the treadmill at the highest incline and at an 8:30ish minuteper-mile pace and start running until you fall off, quit, have a heart attack or stroke, die, or whatever. One would think that such a feat would be not so tiring, or easy– I mean, it is running up a 15% grade. It is almost medieval in its ingenuity. It really, really stinks. Try it sometime, and you will understand. I bet no one makes it to six minutes. I made it two minutes and I went until my body shut down… literally. If that was not enough, I decided to get a little scrap in with Coach Koll afterwards – you know, because I am stupid and a glut-

CHAPTER NINE ton for pain. So, completely exhausted, it was dinner, home, and bed for me. After struggling to get out of bed, sitting around, going back to bed and then deciding to make my presence known at practice, I realized that I was thrown back into the fire. So, there I was again going full tilt for a third day. Now it was not long, but it was tough on me scrapping it up again. In fact, getting out of bed after going hard two days in a row with class and life is a chore. I have not really done any cardio for 10 months. Lifting shape is by no means wrestling shape. You get into wrestling shape by wrestling and wrestling only. That said, I fared well and am exceeding even my own expectations with how well I am wrestling. It is different, though. For the first time in a long time, wrestling is fun and enjoyable and not so draining. I think it is the fact that I can wrestle and eat and drink and not have to worry about sucking a ton of weight as well. It is nice to know that after practice you can drink and eat whatever you want and not have to worry about running it off later on in the night. I cannot wrestle for very long, but I can still wrestle as well as I could before. I feel just as quick, just as explosive, and surprisingly just as strong. Of course, these traits last for um, not very long. I am going for quality, though, not quantity. Well, I am going for quantity too, but quality is not so bad. After practice, I felt like a train wreck. My legs were not working and my neck felt as if I had rolled my car going 55 into a tree. I was, and still am, in some pain. Also, after practice grabbed a little dinner with the lady friend and her mom and went back, fell asleep and am finally up and packing to head all the way down to Pittsburgh for the Super Bowl on Sunday. I don’t think I would miss a Super Bowl in Pittsburgh for the life of me.

Swagging

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Published on February 6, 2009 Since Monday, I’ve recovered, did my school work, wrestled, and laid sort of low. I finally figured out a research paper topic for my Religious Studies class. I am excited, actually, and even inspired to search into God’s word and learn and grow both intellectually as well as spiritually. I will disclose more on that as I narrow my sources and thesis. It looks to be good, though, as I can incorporate my strengths in knowledge with the paper. Other than that, I drove down to get the chemotherapy today and I am taking it very well and almost effect-free. I have not had the runs or the fatigue or anything. My body is getting stronger and I can attribute that to how much better I am taking it. I just am in better shape and have made drastic gains in my shape in two weeks. I am going to beat this; I am in too good of shape not to. Doctors are surprised that I take the meds so well and that I look and feel like I do. I am sore from scrapping it up, but other than that I feel good. I keep good discipline with my work and wrestling, get a good night’s sleep and I have not touched an adult beverage for a month. Speaking of timelines, the end of this infusion… so Saturday, will be my 50th day of chemo in 10 months. Ten months of poisoning and I can wrestle hard for 20 minutes now – 30 with breaks in between, but 20 would be a safe assessment. I am getting stronger and in better shape and my goal of making it through a practice seems imminent. It is a daily fight to get there, but I have always welcomed a good fight. It is just my nature. Anyways, just staying strong and keeping my swagger. God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM”; and He said, “Thus you shall say to the sons of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” – Exodus 3:14 *If God Almighty is who he is, shouldn’t you just be who you are?

Vito Cataldo adam’s close friend In the fall of 2007 I started college at the College of Mount St. Vincent in Riverdale, up in the Bronx. We’d keep in touch by phone, talking about Cornell, how he was feeling, how his season was going, and so on. After Adam found out he had cancer it seemed like we talked and visited more often. During my sophomore year, Adam was taking a couple classes at Cornell and traveling down to Manhattan for treatments over the weekends at Sloan-Kettering when he was still in good enough shape to travel by himself. I’d come down from the Bronx on the 1 train once a week or so to visit him. We’d sit and talk about how life was, how the girls were in his life. And we always enjoyed his company when he came to visit our family out on Long Island. He’d entertain all of us – my parents, my three brothers and me – with his wrestling stories and life stories. Adam probably didn’t realize it, but he had a serious effect on my family – just by him being him. That fall and winter we’d watch the Steelers games every weekend. He was a big Steelers fan and Adam got no greater pleasure in the world than watching Big Ben win his championship. He loved sports and that helped keep his mind off of being sick. In Adam’s last year he got to see the Steelers win the Super Bowl and the Penguins win the Stanley Cup. I’ve never seen a happier kid in my life after those two championship victories.

Stalemate

Published on February 7, 2009 I have two hours left of being hooked up to my little thing before I get to remove this needle from my chest, shower, and feel a little more normal. My numbers came back this week, and they are apparently right on track. They did not go down, but they did not go up either. This means that there is a stalemate going on. Because chemo is cumulative and because these drugs attack cancer cells differently, it takes a little longer to start seeing drops in my marker and they are not going to be as drastic as before. I went from 2533 to 26something. If you time it, from the time they did blood to the time I started my infusion, my number increased um, like zero. So, the meds are fending it off. Yesterday I drove from the city, grabbed dinner with friends and hit the sack for a generous amount of time. I do have to thank the Cataldos’ for their hospitality in letting me stay over there for the night after treatments. I realized I had forgotten to bring that up in my prior post – written on their computer in their living room. That’s the thing with chemo, you forget things. At least I forget things. It slows my mind down a little bit. Anyways, Vito came and picked me up and drove me to Long Island after chemo to his place, where dinner was already set and ready with Mama Cataldo’s specialties. I guess for someone with no appetite, I really did chow down. Man, did I ever eat. To go off on a bit of a tangent, my appetite is extremely large. For those of you who know me, you obviously understand. I eat comparable to an elephant… always and a lot. Whenever I had a date or was going out to dinner or such, I would always eat a few double cheeseburgers, a foot-long sub, or something of the like before the date because I was always afraid of embarrassing myself with my capacity to handle food. I just eat an admittedly gross amount of food. I also have been removed

CHAPTER NINE from buffets more than once for over-eating. So, people close to me know to usually make a little extra and do not expect leftovers when I come over. And I was not really that hungry, but five chicken cutlets, two bowls of salad and a hearty amount of potatoes probably would suggest the opposite. Fortunately, the Cataldos were prepared. I do have to say it is great to have such a wonderful friend with a wonderful family that is willing to almost incorporate me into their kin with their hospitality throughout my chemo in the city. To me that is selfless and special to reach out and neither want nor expect anything in return. Even before the cancer, whenever I was in the area, their generosity was still apparent, which means a lot. So, without further ado, thanks.

Busy Me

Published on February 10, 2009 The chemo really shortens my weekend and leaves me in catch-up mode. Good thing I have one day of classes left going into the new weekend, thus giving me some time to catch up on everything and get some much needed rest. My stomach has been feeling… weird… as of late at times and it makes it hard to sleep. I think it is the fact that the chemo wrings out my inners like a sponge and it just does not feel right. I am not sick, but just, queasy. Of course, I forgot to get my meds that control that for this weekend, or they forgot to give them to me, one of the two, so there was no assistance in dealing with any effects of the chemotherapy. I surely will, for comfort sake, make sure I get the medicines that I usually take for the three-day infusion in hope that it will chase away the sick feeling. School is going. I really like two of my classes and am, eh, whatever about the third one. Of course, the third one is the lowerlevel course with three times the work. It just

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annoys me. Normally I would not complain, but with four days axed from my life every other week because of chemo, I would rather have assignments sparingly for a greater part of the grade that I can do at my own pace than cram with a needle in my chest connected to chemotherapy. Many people pointed out to me that they can tell by my writing on here that some days I am basically a space cadet. I would rather do work when I am not a space cadet and can actually articulate a sentence. Of course, I am probably the only one in school with this health issue, but not the only one with the issue of – hmmm, thinking it’s a bit much. Okay, done with my rant. I am slowly and surely getting back into shape. It takes two things – time and patience. I seem to lack in both realms a little bit, but I am progressing. Every day I can do a little bit more. I have a long way to go, but it’s a process. I think it will be easier if I can just get my legs back into shape. I lose my explosive power very rapidly, and I have to get that back. Genetically, I am extremely fast-twitch and explosive. The plus side to this is being naturally faster and stronger. The downside is that big explosive muscles that burst use much more energy. Therefore, no endurance. To put it simply, I can go hard, but not long, and nothing in between. An athlete like myself has to train not on constant stamina, but instead recovery. I have to train my body to be able to burst repeatedly with as small a rest time as possible. I could never keep a steady pace, even in top shape. To put it in real numbers, in my top shape in high school, I could run about a five-minute mile. I could not do three in under 20 minutes. Right now, I think I could realistically run a mile in eight minutes. I doubt I could do three in half an hour. However, I doubt my 40-yard dash time has changed much (which has been clocked in the 4.4 range). I would say no worse than a 4.6.

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To make a long ramble short, that is my challenge, how I am built physiologically and what I need to do about it. The difference between reaching your goals and not reaching your goals is REACHING.

Ah, The Weekend

Published on February 13, 2009 my four-day weekend is here, and for the first time in a long time I am not traveling around and can just relax and catch up on sleep, work, and everything else. That said, I plan on getting a big start on my research projects and papers to hopefully chip away. It is a strategy I normally do not take. I usually leave about an hour-and-a-half per page tops to get it done. I normally easily finish within that range, but due to actually having to go and seek out secondary sources and a lot of them, I hope to get a big jump on everything. I also tend to work better under pressure. It increases my concentration I guess. That said, usually I do not have the time to put more time into things, so with the increase in time, let’s hope the quality and everything improves. Wednesday started out with the feeling of being hit by the tired truck. I got to class, got a coffee, a piece of banana bread, a fruit bowl, and slowly emerged into the world around me. Good thing the class was based on how to look for things in the library, so I did not miss too many factual things. I went to my second class and played the mental toughness game in staying awake through it, and headed to the library to get some reading done during my three-ish-hour break. After my last class – which may be the most interesting to me because of Florence’s erratic and volatile political nature during the 1200s and into the 1300s – I headed to practice. I hit the bike for a little bit, got the good lung burn-in and waited to head to dinner. I did train pretty hard for three days in a

row this week, right after chemo, and I can feel my body start to snap back into shape. It no longer aches after workouts, or especially the next day. I feel like my body is coming out of almost a hibernation and lumbering back into the swing of training. I know it will take time, but maybe it will not take as long as I originally thought. That is obviously good, because I swear there is a direct correlation between taking the chemo and being in shape. I am no doctor, but from experience, the chemo this time was easier on me by far and I was not on the meds I should have been on (because I forgot to get them). That is huge. Hopefully it can get easier, not more difficult, which goes against the cumulative norm of more=worse. I took today off practice. I needed a day, and when I want to go light and I go into the room, I end up going twice as hard, it seems. Maybe it is bad luck, maybe I just have a hard time saying no, probably a combination of the two. It is better I think to just take a day and recover from everything than redline myself. I know I am going against pushing myself to my limits, or beyond my limits, but a mental health day is never a bad thing. Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. – Psalm 34:8

Arrested

Published on February 20, 2009 yesterday started at 4am after a drive through a blizzard that made the three-hour drive take five hours. It is just annoying to have to go 40 the whole way. Tires a body out. As soon as the white-out snow stopped falling on unplowed roads, there was white-out fog… to go from annoyed to slightly pissed would accurately explain the turn of emotions there. I got into Blairstown, had dinner with a friend and went to sleep to wake up at 4am for the big day of tests and chemo. By 5:30 we

Rob Koll CHAPTER 119 cornell wrestling coach were on the road and by 7:45 I was drinking the iodine dye and awaiting my CT scan that took place at about nine. Afterward, there was time to actually eat when I got the call to come in and see the doctors a little early. I knew immediately that this was good because if it was not, they would have waited, gotten together a full ensemble, maybe a tazer gun, probably the swat team. I guess I have not taken bad news too well in the past. But let’s back up a minute. The CT scan was to show if it was working or not. If not, termination of everything and figure out another path. Luckily it was not like that. The scans showed no change in size in the active node in six weeks. Furthermore, the activity of the cancer seems to be dying. This time however, it seems to be dying from the inside out. The lung and liver nodes are also finally obsolete, and with my lungs, the blood vessels have increased drastically, meaning my lungs are in perfect health with none of the feared scarring, and have come back to look like an athlete’s lungs again. Also, for the first time in six months, I am not anemic. My red blood cells have climbed back to the lower level of average and are increasing at a pretty drastic rate comparative to everyone else. Adam is finally biologically getting back in shape. My platelets did drop again, and have fallen to under 100. It is not a big deal, but under 75 means delaying treatment or transfusing to get treatment. For some reason, this new regimen beats up on my platelets… the one blood type that modern medicine cannot boost. So, back to the tumor. The doctor’s word was “arrested.” The chemo has arrested the cancer, meaning that it is not growing, not yet shrinking, and basically stable. Also, the tumor is moving. It seems to have detached from those precarious blood vessels and is floating more towards the front of my body

When Adam came back into the wrestling room while he was undergoing cancer treatment, he would wrestle even with a stick near his heart. Jordan Leen was training for the Nationals and occasionally he’d wrestle with Adam. I remember Adam taking Jordan down twice before getting too tired. That was amazing – here’s this guy who hasn’t wrestled for a year, has cancer and is taking down the defending National champion. He still had that ability even with chemo. Seeing that type of performance by Adam, I’d wonder if there was any way he would be back on the team next year. There were moments when he’d say, ‘This cancer is going to kill me.’ Then 10 seconds later he’d say, ‘I am going to wrestle next year.’ We’d focus on the latter because you don’t want to focus on the alternative.

Cory Cooperman assistant coach During the time he was on chemo, he’d still come to the wrestling room. He had taken a lot of time off, so he appreciated the chance to go out and wrestle more than anybody else. He’d come up and say, ‘I want to wrestle with you.’ We’d often do Freestyle and he’d get on top of me and I’d be fighting him off with everything I got, trying to defend against his gut wrench. Here he is a cancer patient, taking chemo, and he still turned me – albeit, just one time – but it was a real fight to hold him off. The last thing you wanted to do was gut wrenches with Adam – even with all his treatments he still was so powerful.

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than where it was lodged between my kidneys. This is very positive because it means that a laparoscopic surgery would be much more possible. I got my chemo and was there all day, it seemed. My tumor marker had a big spike, compared to the last time it spiked. This probably signals cell death. They told me that there would be a change in size if it followed the norm and nearly quadrupled. So, it is a spike. It took me eleven weeks to get an HGC lower than what I had had to start with because of spikes in high dose. So, with this one, I guess you could say it took two cycles to stop it and the third started doing damage… I have to remember that this new treatment is cumulative and not as instantaneous as the other ones. It attacks the cells differently, meaning it stops them from reproducing then it enters a war of almost attrition with between the cancer and yours truly. I tend to win wars of attrition. Then Jesus said, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’ – John 11:40

On A Whim

Published on February 27, 2009 I made it through the week relatively unscathed and woke up today (Thursday) and decided that home would be a good place to spend the next four days of my weekend. So, because of that and other reasons (eh, the car), I basically took off and made it down to Pittsburgh at 8ish. So, my past days… I was surprised to actually receive an A on my bibliography for my big paper in my first class (Prophecy). It surprises me because maybe I was selling myself short, or maybe because I have not done a formatted Bibliography for… years, and was petrified it would be formatted wrong. So next step is a little dissertation of 150 words which should be no biggie… in

fact, I hope to do it this weekend. With that out of the way I can get to doing what I seemingly do well… writing the darn thing. My topic for the paper is, loosely, the role of the prophet as a political figure in ancient Israeli government, both socially and militarily. In more concrete terms, it is looking at particular prophesies from my focus on the major prophets of Amos and Isaiah and others and seeing their prophecies and how they fare in dealing with the social/economic system as well as the constant threat of attack militarily. After school I went and got a little workout in, then played some cards with some friends, hung out, and called it a night. The drive home was sunny and pretty easy. It seems shorter every time, probably because I am just so used to driving. It is nice to drive on a nice day with the radio on, with time to think about particular things here and there. I thought a lot about wrestling again, and how much that means to me. I am attempting to get my weight down to my fighting weight. The doctors said it would be fine, and I would not be going too low, but I am hoping to compete in April. My body is snapping back faster from workouts and my shape is coming back pretty nicely. I cannot go forever, but I can go the four-to-sixminute matches in the international styles, so thank you FILA for changing the rules and allowing more breaks and a shorter match. I thought about that a lot. Technically, speed-wise and strength-wise, I am the same as I was… or I feel the same as before if not better. I can go with the top guys right now if need be…for a very short burst mind you… by short I mean two or three minutes, but boy can I go those two or three minutes. Conditioning is hard, but with my blood counts creeping back every week (I am no longer anemic for the first time in six months), I am starting to get used to it. I have not been in the room as much as a normal person because I am limited by such things, but my body is starting to take the

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Adam showed plenty of affection (and strength) when he played with his dogs, the 140-pound Zeus, and Vulcan, pictured here at his home in Pittsburgh.

workouts well and my lungs and muscles are starting to respond to recovering from explosive techniques and scrambles. Wrestling is a very explosive sport. I was given the gift of fast-twitch muscles that can explode and create a lot of power in a short burst. Thing is, they do not always hold that power for very long. And that can be my Achilles’ heel. In a four-minute match, however, it is much less likely, so that’s good. So, to finish my digression, I spent hours trying to figure out how best to train to maintain my explosiveness throughout a match and tournament. I got home and I saw the dog in my driveway. My cute little puppy seems to grow up and mature every time I see him. I think he is done growing tall wise (he stands eye level with me on his back legs), but he is getting thick in the chest, neck, and extremities. The Vulcanator’s face is starting to lose the “puppy” and seems more dignified and self-assured while less wide-eyed and youthful. They say Malamutes are not fully matured until three, and Vulcan is two weeks shy of two. He has a lot of puppy in him still, but the change is coming. The scary thing is going to be when that body finally fin-

ishes filling out that frame… he already has about a 30-inch neck and is nowhere near his weight at maturity. The other big (now littler) guy, Zeus, seems to finally be over his elbow injury and he is moving along much better. We were able to trim him down from 140 to 120 and it seems to have helped his mobility on those old hips of his. It took some time because Zeus was never thin, but he was not one bit fat. He was just… thick. Even pushing 10, he has a very wide chest and literally a V-taper. When he was in his prime and at 140, he was a very powerful force…very powerful. We had to trim some of that muscle off of him because that extra weight was useless in a way. His chores now do not include pulling my brother and I up hills for sled rides and rollerblading (it is true, we used to have him pull us on rollerblades up hills, and he did it easily and often). On that note, the scary thing is that Vulcan is actually bred to pull and will be bigger than Zeus. It is a good thing he is not mean. I swing big, with everything I’ve got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can. – Babe Ruth

Chapter ten

As Promised

Published on March 1, 2009 I am going to put my two cents in with the current situation in America. This is my opinion, and I understand I will have disagreement, but I researched and thought long and hard on this. It stinks. There, opinion. Second, it is going to get worse before it gets better. Here is why. From the mind of a fiscal conservative, the bailout was a terrible idea. The economy is driven more by fear now than it should ever be. The bailout invokes this fear and people do not invest. During this time, we also have a president who gives speeches that rival those that will be given on the eve of Armageddon. Here is why these ideas and this direction this nation is taking will not work. In one month, our national deficit has doubled. Economists said that by doing nothing, there would be a 70% reduction in the national deficit from the point now, which would put us at $800 billion, or basically the cost of this “stimulus plan.” By doubling this deficit then ironically saying that by the end of the term our leader will half it is saying his goal is to break even. Now, if you owned a business,

and you “broke even” you would be homeless because of expenses. I am glad we have an aggressive and optimistic approach… insert sarcasm here. Furthermore, 40% of our assets as a country are now owed by China… as we know a communist country. As someone who believes in free markets, I am ashamed. The leaders of our country should be ashamed for selling out to a communist regime, a country that has no care for the environment, child labor, no minimum wage, and the highest execution rate in the world. They should be ashamed. And I will stop on that subject because it makes my stomach sicker than chemo. So, $787 billion and there is bragging that only $10 billion is pork. Um, $10 billion is a lot of money. Washington, news flash, we the taxpayers do not want ANY pork. None. Zero. That is wasteful and we are paying for it! It’s insane that our leaders would brag about that. INSANE!!! That would equate to about $33k per American. Terrible. Okay, so we are in debt, and what do we do, look to our past success. FDR was a smart man. He made the move to take us off the gold standard and print money (and in

123 weight we are going to print the equivalent of four aircraft carriers in dollar bills). What does that do? Everyone knows it weakens the American dollar, which back then was not a bad idea. Here is why. A weak dollar means stronger foreign currency, which means that the trade deficit decreases and foreigners buy more USA goods. In the WWII era, it worked because militias needed supplies and American-made was high in quality and cheaper than normal so a better value. It worked and was ingenious. Today, however, it will not work. This is because no matter how weak the dollar becomes, it will never be weak enough to rival the yen. In the USA we have a minimum wage, unions, labor laws, and because of that it costs more to produce goods and will always cost more than a nation producing the same thing without those regulations. We have a baseline price for our productivity due to wage laws and labor laws (which is a good thing). China does not have this… therefore, they will always be able to undercut USA goods on the foreign market. Raw materials like steel and basic goods will always be less. We just cannot compete. So, the foreign market buys due to weak dollars theory holds no water. And lastly, we will federally regulate the banks. That sounds sort of socialist to me. The last time they interfered with the banks was the blunder of requiring banks to make sub-prime mortgages. The government, by law, forced banks to make loans they would not normally make. But hey, let’s not only give people who do not deserve loans lucrative sums of money, lets jack the interest rate up with adjustable rate and balloon mortgages. So, the mortgage in three years starts having 20% interest on it. And the government could not see people bailing out on the banks? Big blunder there, guys. Now they want to put people on the boards of the banks etc. Just, no. Stay out, please. It is better to let banks be

banks and to give loans that are good loans. Don’t force them into making bad loans and this mess would have been avoided. And they want more involvement. That scares me. I am all about stopping corruption and greed and all of that. But let’s let them do their job. Speaking of jobs. They are getting cut and will continue to do so. Right now, no one is buying, so to increase demand any moron knows you reduce supply. Reducing supply and making the same profit means cut jobs. They say they will create jobs. Well, they can, but if someone laid off can make more money on unemployment than they can make working a government job, they will sit and watch TV. Hell, I would. It is only common sense. So, how can we dig ourselves out? It is easier than one may say. Let’s start by implementing a tax on imports. Let’s strengthen the American dollar and give incentives to buy American goods. Let’s levy taxes on foreign importers like China (who will pay because we are their largest clients in the world and can afford to do so). Let’s have them pay the tariff and attack the deficit two-fold. The economy gets stimulated from within the borders and the countries importing goods pay for our screw-ups. Let’s give Iraq back to the Iraqis. They want us out and feel they can deal with it on their own. It is too costly. The war was a good idea; however, it was gone about wrong. We did things wrong. We won it, Hussein is gone, it’s time to say, ‘Here, we support you and will help you, but our boys are coming back home.’ (I may have to make another rant about the state of Iraq, its problems, and why the people who literally drew its boundaries in the sand really messed that one up… actually, I will get to the war this coming week sometime.) Lastly, you want jobs and stimulus. You want education. I want to start from the bottom up and reform welfare. People do not understand that union membership in the

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trades is at an all-time low percentage-wise. I am sick of people collecting money on welfare from those who work. I am sick of it. I have an idea to change it, too. You want welfare, I will give you welfare, but two circumstances apply. First, mandatory random drug testing. Yes, it costs money. Yes, some people will have to be paid (jobs) to implement these tests. Yes, they will doubtfully reach the TEN BILLION in pork added to the stimulus plan including a fleet of helicopters for Obama (note, there are already a decent number in the fleet, and how many helicopters can you possibly ride in at the same time… I guessed ONE.) Here is the deal, you fail a drug test, you are kicked off welfare, no questions asked. It is illegal anyways. People who go to work get drug tested so they can pay people to sit at home and do drugs (now I know this is not the case with everybody, but you are blind if you think it does not happen.) Secondly, welfare’s goal is to get people off welfare. I’ll give you minimum or even above minimum wage, but it is like a JOB. Punch in 40 hours a week of job training. You miss too many days, you get kicked off or fired from welfare. Now yes, this costs money too. It creates jobs to teach and educate. It gives people a chance to come off of welfare and be able to get a career making decent money. It would change lives. It makes sense. If you have kids, daycare is provided. It works out great. Think about it, you are on welfare, you are required to basically prove you are not doing anything illegal (drug tests), and you get a chance to learn a trade or skill to be able to get a job and a career. There is an old adage to this, ‘Give a man a fish, feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, feed him for life.’ We as Americans should look to our leaders to implement a system that teaches those who are hungry how to fish, how to be responsible, and help them get careers. My idea creates jobs and gives opportunities at good careers.

I know this post was long, but it is only in short an analysis on where I think we are at, where we need to go, and my disgust with the current situation. I know everyone will not agree, but I feel that being a government major who wants to be involved in politics some day and that is learned on the subject and matters, I should at least present an opinion. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. – Psalms 23:1

Spring Break!

Published on March 13, 2009 my first full day of R-and-R was amazing. I slept, slept, watched TV, then hung out for a bit. The big guy [Zeus] is doing just fine, he is his ornery senile self, and seems to only get up for one person… me. Tomorrow is Friday the 13th – the movie was filmed in the town where I went to high school. Main Street… yeah, that was pretty much my street in high school. Funny watching it and being able to see some Blair buildings through the shrubbery. I am excited to go to St. Louis [for the NCAAs] in a week, not excited to get chemo, and happy to be able to rest. I know tomorrow is going to be dealing with working on my paper and presentation. I need to put in maybe a couple hours a day to get that proverbial jump on it. If I can get a jump on it now, then I can coast in at least one class for the rest of the semester… being 33% of my schedule. I need to make things as stress-less as possible. That is basically the round-up. I have a great story of something beyond irony to share with you now. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from my favorite movie of all time, V for Vendetta. It goes like this, “There is no such thing as coincidence, only the illusion of coincidence.” If you think about it, in believing in

CHAPTER TEN the Lord as I do, some things he just puts out there are signs or signals and it is up to us to find out what they are. This happened to me in a profound way in class on Wednesday. Let’s go back to the night before. I was praying. More like conversing, but anyways, I was basically holding a one-sided debate with God on why I should stay on this earth. I told him that I could not spread the word and witness and do all of that if I was not here to do it. I told him that although I have fallen short, I at least tried to do well and good and make this a better place. I asked him what it would take to finally put this thing away, and if he could lend his hand. I promised him if he spared me, I would do my best to please him. I told him I wanted to be here and that I wanted to serve him down here for a while and made a case of why I should. I talked to God for about two hours, and I was able to go to sleep, although only for a few hours, relieved and feeling fulfilled. I felt that calming sensation that I felt when my staph infection had me beaten; I felt that calming sensation of being told everything was going to be alright. If that was not enough, in class we were studying the prophecy of Isaiah under the Judean king of Hezekiah. Being just a neb and a roamer, my eyes scrolled a column to the right and I found something that was beyond coincidental. We all know the Bible is a huge book, and by randomly turning to a page, odds are not likely to find “the answer.” Well, the answer was there. As I read the King’s recollection of his conversation before an illness that was to kill him, I was reading my conversation with God… almost verbatim. It was funny how he pleaded, like me, and how God looked and basically said, “Hezekiah, you are right. I will add 15 years on your life.” Historically, Hezekiah was, in my opinion, one of the greatest leaders of either Kingdom. He was able to stave off being conquered by the Assyrians after the northern

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kingdom fell, and politically, militarily, and socially, he was a success. He also trusted in God and rarely questioned him. It was at that moment that I felt God look and say, ‘Adam, you’re right and I will give that to you.’ My anxiety is gone; my worry… that worry that has been creeping into my mind is gone. I know I have to hold up my end, and I will do my best. In those days Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz went to him and said, “This is what the LORD says: Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.” Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD, “Remember, O LORD, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly. Then the word of the LORD came to Isaiah: “Go and tell Hezekiah, ‘This is what the LORD, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will add fifteen years to your life. And I will deliver you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria. I will defend this city.’” – Isaiah 38:1-6

It’s Good To Read

Published on March 19, 2009 I am done with my cycle, and flying out tonight to St. Louis to the NCAAs. The tournament. My trip to NYC this time started out wonderfully. I was able to stay in the city thanks to the kindness of someone in the Cornell wrestling family, and it was a lot better getting up at nine as compared to five. So, I got there and waited, and waited, and waited. I was taken back into the exam room and two hours later (three hours after my appointment), I was finally seen by someone who almost lost their life due to negligence and being an ass.

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Now, when my doctor is gone, I am to see another doctor who is to look at my blood work, look at me, and give the yes or no according to protocol. I know my blood was fine, it was this weekend. So, I had the assistant walk in and ask me why I was sleeping in the chair. I was bored. It is boring waiting in a room for two hours, and what better way to pass the time but to sleep it off. Because of my clot he went to check my lung. To his amazement, it sounded great, to my disgust, it was the wrong lung. He did not read my chart, or my CT of my lung or anything that was faxed over. So the doctor came in, and it got no better. He told me I had to be on the shots not for 10 days, but the rest of my life. Blood thinners for the rest of my freaking life. Shooting myself in the stomach with what feels like napalm for the rest of my life. I’d almost rather be dead. I said I wrestle, and that everyone else said 10 days, then re-evaluate. He told me, with a laugh, that I would never wrestle or do any contact sport again. I said, ‘No wrestling?’ He gave me the laugh and smart-ass comeback that almost got him knocked on his ass: ‘Haha, um, no.’ My mother looked and saw my face and said, ‘You know he is 23, when he is done with this and being in perfect health otherwise, they said there is no reason for him to not live a normal life.’ Well, this was apparently even funnier to this guy, who responded, ‘Guess what, he will be on chemo for the rest of his life, too. We just string him along.’ So, no wrestling and a life that involves feeling like hell half the time. Chemo every other week with a shot in my stomach every day. That was my life laid out for me. Now, mathematically, as long as I can take the drugs, I will live to be approximately 75. That is a pretty normal life expectancy. It isn’t a normal life. It is basically being strung along, feeling like hell, and being treated as if I was made of

glass. Being told that at 23, that for all intents and purposes, the dream of normalcy is over. I am no comedian, but that’s not very funny. It’s not funny at all. The guy was not even my doctor. My mom, livid that I was livid, and I was hot, called the patient rep. The nurse for my doctor sat down and informed us that he never read my chart. He saw me without knowing anything other than my name, and my meds, and the chemo I was taking. He ruined my hope without even cracking the folder. I don’t want to live like this forever. I told my dad not to be surprised if I said screw it and just sped up the process. It isn’t a way to live… not cancer and chemo, but hopeless and ruined. That is how I felt; hopeless, ruined, and almost lost. Now, it is not in me to give up. I don’t know if it is a double-edged sword at times, but I tend to not give up. My real doctor told me to come in next week for the scan and so he can sort everything out and properly figure out what is going on. Until then, I get to keep a diary of which gut muscle I shoot myself in every day as well as hoping that someday I can just go back to being a normal human being and not some lab rat that is getting strung along. I do not understand whatever happened to hope, and good news, and encouragement. Half of chemo is mental, it really is. Doctors need to understand that. I take the stuff so much better when I am happy, and almost excited to get it… to put another nail in cancer’s coffin. I took it horribly this time, it made me sick, I didn’t eat but once in two days, I hardly could move. What a difference reading and some bedside manners make.

What A Weekend

Published on March 23, 2009 I am back from St. Louis and the experience was great. I saw a lot of friends, watched a lot of wrestling and had a lot of fun. The trip was,

CHAPTER TEN like most trips involving wrestling without competing, an unplanned plethora of various people from various places with two main objectives… wrestling and partying. Actually, it’s basically a bunch of people with the same persona and agendas. So, it ended up being a random, fun, exciting weekend. Let’s cap off some highlights. One was my little transfer in hotels. I had a room booked n a hotel that was overbooked, so, I lucked out and got transferred to a five-star hotel suite with the whole cost covered by the original hotel. That… was the good luck that normally eludes me. Seriously, it was like winning the lottery… not the million-dollar one, but like the big three or something… The food was great, the wrestling was great, the socials and night life was great. I cannot remember a more fun weekend. I have to thank the TDR team for getting me some media credentials and for the honor of sitting with them and doing some broadcasting throughout the tournament. It was an honor and a privilege to sit there on press row and talk wrestling with some great people and friends throughout the tournament. For those of you who tuned in on Saturday morning to TDR, you got to hear a little bit of me calling some matches and chatting it up. It was quite enjoyable, but next year I expect to be on, and not beside, the mat. For me, the finals were probably the worst part of the whole deal. The wrestling was great and all of that, but… it was heart-wrenching knowing that I am, or was, or whatever… capable of being there. I can compare it to being perfectly happy and then seeing your ex happy out at a bar or something. You would not think it would bother you, but it does. I guess it is because some part of you still cares and maybe you thought it was dead, but it came painfully back to life for a little bit. You think back and you wonder and relish, but what is not is not, and at times it is painful.

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I guess it makes you realize that, or well, at least for me, that I want to wrestle on that platform on that blue mat. I want to be the one with my hand raised; I want to be the best. I do know that God’s plan and my wants are quite different. It is like sticking your hand in a jar of candy and expecting to pull out one of those scrumptious, chewy, amazing caramels and then pulling out one of those stupid hard pink things. – Scott Casber, quote of the week

Anniversaries

Published on March 25, 2009 one year ago my world went spinning out of control at about 55mph. That day I walked into a hospital with whiplash and out of a hospital with the most advance stages of cancer. I was given a ten percent chance of survival, and a small preview of the hell I was about to go through. It was one year ago, almost to the minute, I was told I had tumors… cancerous tumors… throughout my entire body. I do not really remember who or what I was a year ago. I know I had a girlfriend who left soon thereafter. I was training for wrestling, and had just competed my season at NCAAs. I was a full-time student, and doing well. I thought I was tough, thought I was mature, thought I was smart and articulate, I thought I had a strong faith in God. I thought I had the world by the seat of the pants. I was not completely happy, took life for granted, and figured it would be there – unhindered – for a long time to come. One year later I realize how wrong I was. Yes, it has been one year, 58 days of chemo, 41 nights in hospitals, three trips to an operating room, and more bags of IV fluid, needles, doctors’ appointments, and pills than I care to even count. It has been a year of fighting. I wish I could go back maybe two years or three years ago and tell that person whom I no

128 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Sandy Stevens hall of fame announcer I announced Adam’s name many, many times at wrestling tournaments around the country but I had never talked with him until it was discovered that he had cancer. When I learned of this it hit me really hard. That’s probably because my husband, who had been a wrestler and a coach, battled cancer for four years before his death. Shortly after Adam was diagnosed, I was announcing the National High School championships. Jeff Buxton, Adam’s coach at Blair, was there. I asked Jeff for Adam’s address because I wanted to send him a note. Jeff told me, ‘Okay, but better yet, go ahead and call him.’ I felt a little awkward just picking up the phone, so I thought I better check with his mom. Jeff gave me Cindy’s number and she said, ‘Absolutely call him.’ So I called Adam and we talked a bit, telling him about my husband’s battle with cancer. I told him that my husband had said – and he told this to many people – ‘I wouldn’t be alive today if I hadn’t been a wrestler. I never went into a match expecting to lose.’ I think that really struck a chord with Adam because Adam had that attitude and I knew he would understand that. I also told him my husband had been given one month to live at one point, and in fact lived two-and-one-half years after that – not just survived, but thrived. From that point on, Adam and I talked often. The first time we met was when Adam was able to come as a coach to the Junior Nationals in Fargo. He came up the steps in front of the head table just as we were getting ready for one of the sessions to start. This guy says, ‘Hi.’ I look up and he goes, ‘I’m Adam.’ We hugged like long-lost friends. It was so neat to see him. I found

Sandy Stevens receives the Ed Aliverti Golden Microphone award from USA Wrestling President Jim Ravannack and Executive Director Rich Bender. Larry Slater

out he had the Foundation T-shirts for sale, so I made an announcement about that. We chatted several times after that during the tournament. The only other time we saw each other was at the NCAAs in 2009. Somehow he finagled his way past the security guards to come up to the head table. We hugged again. He was so excited to be there. It was hard on me many times when I read his blogs. I understood his frustration. I understood his anger. I understood his hope. He never gave up hope. It’s a godawful rollercoaster that you and your loved ones are on. I rode that rollercoaster so much of the time with Adam. I think he knew that I understood that. Cindy certainly knew. I talked with her a couple of times and said to her, ‘You are the cheerleader; you are the advocate; you are the nurse (because you have to do some of those things also); you are the person trying to balance between hope and realism. It is a tough, tough, tough position to be in.’ She was, and is, amazing.

CHAPTER TEN longer can recognize how ignorant and stupid he was. How he took so much for granted. How much he just didn’t get it. I wish I could, but I can’t. I guess you could say that boy is long gone and what I am now is what is left. Maybe in this year I reached more people than I ever could have. This year my faith has grown tenfold. This year I learned how to love a little more, be a little better of a person… this year, while facing death, I learned what it was like to actually live. I learned what maturity was, I was taught how to truly overcome adversity. God put in place the people to show me these things that I unlikely would have heeded to before. In one year, I feel I have lived 100. Maybe time is not to be measured in seconds, or minutes, or days, or years. Maybe time is to be measured in the knowledge gained, the experience gathered, the effort put forth, or the growth of one’s self. Maybe I truly lived only 10 years in my first 22, and 100 during the 23rd lap around the sun. Maybe I will never gain so much in so little time again. I may even regress, hopefully not, into what I was. Maybe next year I will be even further along. I guess it is all what happens and God’s plan. As for now, I am glad to still be in it. And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. – Romans 12:2

Effects

Published on March 29, 2009 My chemo had no effect on anything and although it died in one tumor, it spread to two new spots on my liver. My HCG is as high as it was during my initial diagnosis and the new chemo regiment is a pill that is more about quality of life than actually beating my cancer. I was given a timetable on my life and it was not 50 years, in fact it was not even five… two seems likely – months if it is left untreated.

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I find out Monday if it would be safe to laser out the lesions (the liver is one organ they can literally burn cancer out of), then I go back on a drug I had a year ago and with good effect. My cancer does not respond to platinum drugs, meaning all the main drugs they use to treat TC were voided. This means I went through high dose for basically nothing and could have just had the other two with the same effects. I am almost happy that I do not have to go through that chemo regimen anymore. It hurt, it was miserable, and it beat me up. I am not quitting, or accepting this, and I have learned of some therapies overseas that involve stem cells and other therapies that cure cancer. I am looking into it because conventional medicine is just not doing the trick. It is too strong for chemo. This is starting to annoy me more and more, the consistent failures. It is frustrating living like this, fighting hard and doing things right just for it to do nothing. I guess I have to take things into my own hands and research the unconventional methods. They apparently work very well, and that is the next step. Well, I was always unconventional…

Hospital Again?

Published on April 4, 2009 I was able to gut it through two days of class even with the high fever and what I thought was bronchitis after spitting up my blood clots on Sunday. I made it to class, surprisingly got an Alpha on a paper I expected to get a Charlie or Delta on. We were given the option of a rewrite, and I put it together quite quickly. I almost said, ‘This is a joke, right?’ when I got the paper, but I bit my lip. I went to fly home Wednesday night, and I was sick. My fever was spiking very high, and when it broke I was sweating off six to eight pounds overnight. I went to get on my delayed flight and

130 Cataldo ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Vito close friend There was a profound phone conversation I had with Adam one night, about a year into his treatments. I had gone with James Strouse to see him earlier that day in the hospital. He looked pretty good and we had a good visit. On the phone later Adam was frustrated and something was really wrong with him. ‘You know what, Vito, I just can’t take this any more,’ he said. I ask him, ‘What’s going on?’ He tells me, ‘I don’t want to do this. I can’t take it any more. I’m not going to go out like this. Once the doctors say I’m terminal, that’s it. I’m going to blow my brains out.’ I tell Adam, ‘Whoa, whoa. Hold on now. Relax. You are not going to be terminal. It’s okay. You’re in good shape right now. The doctors say everything is going along smoothly. It’s too early and there’s no reason to be thinking that way at all. I know you hate the hospital walls; I know you don’t like the food; I know you don’t like the nurses. But that’s not the answer. That’s not good for you, not good for your family, not good for your friends. That’s not what anybody needs. You’ve never given up before in your life; there’s no way you can give up now. I know you’re just saying this because you’re frustrated, but there’s no way this is going to happen.’ I got him calmed down but that incident really scared me. I swear that sometimes I feel that if there wasn’t a voice of reason, if there wasn’t someone he trusted telling him that this wasn’t the right thing to do – you know Adam’s a very headstrong person – he would have gone ahead and done it. After that he started calming down,

Even though Adam became increasingly frustrated and depressed by his hospital visits to Sloan-Kettering Memorial Center in Manhattan, he retained his faith and his hopes for a full recovery.

putting things in order in his head. He was the most frustrated by not being able to wrestle anymore. One doctor walked into his hospital room and told him, ‘You are not going to be able to wrestle ever again.’ That made Adam so angry because the doctor didn’t realize how important wrestling was to him. He was so pissed. Wrestling wasn’t just a sport to him; it was his life, his goal. He wanted to win an NCAA championship – it’s all he ever wanted.

CHAPTER TEN was told I would not make my connection flight back home. Thank the good Lord for the Cataldos. One call and I had good old Vito waiting there to let me spend another night at his place, virtually unannounced. I had a hip pain for quite some time and after going to my chiropractor, it was discovered that I had a pinched disc, a sub-luxed hip, and something else out of joint… like no wonder I was having trouble sleeping. I also had developed a pain in the side of my abdomen where my appendix is. Then it was off to the hospital to figure out why I had a 101-103 degree fever. My appendix checked out fine, I was put on drugs to take the pain away, which was a relief, then I was sent home. My fever gradually climbed to over 103, so I was told by my oncologist to go back in. That puts me here, and while they have my fever under control, I had a strange first night with someone who was delusional to say the least. I was cursed at by a pacing guy behind a curtain all night while i wasn’t saying anything. I told my mom to get here ASAP so I could go to bed without fear of being stabbed. The guy was hated by everyone, doctors, nurses, and I was the one stuck with him… finally, at 8am, I got to sleep. They want to keep me here, and that is fine with me, as long as I don’t come across any more whackos and get to keep my own room. I hope I can get back to school soon, these missed classes are wearing on me. Pain is a figment of your imagination.

You Don’t Have The Necessary Security To Keep Me Here

Published on April 8, 2009 I am finally out, after four or five days, 11 pounds, three-fourths of my sanity, and no infection whatsoever, I am out. After tampering with my sanity, I had a staff of doctors tell me that my blood cultures (all four of them)

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came back negative and that they wanted to keep me for another four days to do them again. I was swift in my response, saying that I have put up with a needle in my chest for four days, not getting my meds on time, having a friend that fortunately worked on my floor as an NA tell me that I would get much better care at home, being annoyed by nurse after staff worker after dietician after person after crazy patient after person, all in a grateful and docile manner. I did not complain when they gave me so much blood thinner that I scratched my head and bled for 20 minutes. I did not complain as my fever rose to 105 as my nurse was flirting outside instead of giving me my meds… four hours prior. I told them, and they agreed, that I was a model patient. I told them they promised me out on this scheduled day. I then told them they did not have enough security to keep me here, and that they better bring in the National Guard and that they better be armed if they had any chance. I had had enough. They said I was leaving, I was. Ten minutes later, I was being processed to go home. I called my mom, she called Hillman, and the question was asked angrily of why in the heck was I still there. This came from my nurse at Hillman. Yeah, I was supposed to be there for blood work and to see if Tylenol took my fevers down. Well, it controlled them and it did. Instead, they waited on negative cultures for four days (an infection causing a 105 temp takes one to two days, I know from personal experience). I showed no symptoms of infection and, as result, I got more shots in the abs with more blood thinners than my poor body could handle (they had me on a script of 2.4 times what I was getting, and that got cut in half because that was too much, so around five times). Luckily, I refused the second shots they tried to give me. I probably would have bled to death rolling over. That is not a joke, I am serious, this

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is how thin my blood is right now. So, the fever is caused by the cancer. It is controllable and is under control. Hopefully tomorrow, we start chemo, which everyone actually feels optimistic about. On other notes, I have taken it into my own hands to fight it by other means, including turning vegan. No, I still am all for eating meat and I am no moral objector to the consumption of meat and I plan to, after removing this from my body, to eat meat again… maybe in more moderation than the few pounds I would consume a day, but yeah, I am vegan. And, well it is not as bad as I thought it would be, but it can be annoying at times. The diet of salad and fruit isn’t death row, but it is no stroll in the park, I guess. You do what you have to do – research shows being vegan stops cancer growth, why not try it out? I want to hit this thing from all angles. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. – John 3:16

Mr. Lucky

Published on April 19, 2009 I am finally back up in Ithaca, have some stuff to take care of tomorrow, and hope to get back on the right track. This chemo regiment really dehydrates me, and the whole no-meat thing is starving me of the protein overload and calories I normally get, so it is a double whammy. Good news is that for two whole days I have not been in pain and have strayed away from all the pain meds. Having to go through all of the meds all of the time is tiring on the body as well, I guess. Well, lucky Adam decided that he felt good enough to go out for the first time in a month last night. I am beginning to think that the astrological powers of the universe just love taking dumps on my head… seriously. So, let’s fast forward through the night of not drinking and talk about the two-mile

drive home. I took the back way intentionally to miss the checkpoints and whatnots. About a quarter-mile from my house I see lights. Now I was not speeding, so I figured it was something stupid beyond belief that caused me to be pulled over and interrogated about my night of drinking… yep that was it. So, the guy comes up and asks me if I know why I was pulled over. I said no, but I was sure he was going to enlighten me… apparently my license plate light was out. I do not even know what the hell a license plate light is. I never seen one on a car, probably given the fact I do not pay attention to moronic bull crap that gets me in these situations. So, the expected dialogue ensued: Have you been drinking? No. Breathalyze me. Where are you coming from? The Red Jug. Why were you there? To meet friends. How was it? The usual drunk college crowd on a Saturday night. You have not drunk anything? No, go get your breathalyzer. Where do you live? About a thousand feet up the road. You are not from here are you? Nope, just a student. License and registration… I handed it over expecting to have it run, be told to get it fixed and to have a nice day… not in NY. So, here was the dilemma: I missed a court date when I was in the hospital for the ticket I never actually received after my accident one year ago. I did write the court and explained the situation and asked for a delay on the trial… in return they sent me a letter dropping the charges. They were dropped, I needn’t show up in court, and all was rosy. Apparently that letter was not filed through the police system, and I had my

Tim Boda WRESTLER AND FRIEND I met Adam during his freshman year at Cornell. I was going down to Ithaca from Syracuse four or five times a week to work out at the Finger Lakes Wrestling Club. We were close to the same weight so we worked out quite a lot together. We seemed to hit it right off, even though I am a lot older. It was like a big brother, little brother relationship. Adam constantly found himself trapped in lot of bad luck but usually seemed to come out the better for it. One day, this is about six months after I first started working out with him, his car got towed. He had no way to get around so I told him that I’d give him a ride to fetch the car. He said that he had to get the money from his mom and dad for the car, but I told him, ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.’ We went to the company that had towed his car and he had to pay like $200 in parking fines. We paid this and the guy goes to back Adam’s car off the lot – but backed Adam’s car into one of the tow trucks and damaged the back of the car. Adam says, ‘Hey, you gotta pay for this damage you just caused.’ I don’t recall exactly how it ended up but that was typical of Adam’s luck. After his freshman year, Adam would come up to Syracuse to my place quite a bit, especially during the off season. I have my own wrestling room right in my house. He’d come up here and stay with my family three or four days at a time. Our sunroom basically became a bedroom for him. He was still on crutches from his knee surgery and we’d hang out together. I think he was really kind of lonely. He was kind of alone up at Cornell and he didn’t have a great

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relationship with his dad. I don’t want to say I was a father figure; it was more like I was a big brother to him. I’d pick on him and we’d joke around all the time. When he’d go out to dinner with me and my family, people would see us and think he must be my older brother because his hairline was receding so badly – and he was actually young enough to be my son. After the third or fourth time we were together, I lost a $100 bet to him. He saw a plain doorway in my house that had no moulding, ledge or door jamb and told me he could do pull-ups in the doorway, just by squeezing against the wall. I was like, “There’s no way.” He goes, ‘Well, I’ll bet ya.’ I said ‘I’ll bet $100 you can’t do it because I tried it and couldn’t even hold myself up.’ Well, I’ll be a son of a gun if he didn’t jump on up there and do six pull-ups just squeezing with his hands. He was an unbelievable athlete – and so strong.

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license suspended unbeknownst to me, because in NY they do not tell things like this to out-of-state drivers, you should just assume it. Even funnier, if you have a suspended license, out-of-staters are expected to pay a daily fine (I found this out later from a policeman I knew) until they get it reinstated. I did get a bill for $300 every six months, one that I was explained in the documentation was to retain driving privileges in NY. Of course, I never knew they were taken away. So, not just some stupid lamp that I never seen that was used as a complete bull crap way to pull someone over and see if they are drunk, I was facing a misdemeanor and arrest… for something that was dropped. The officer made the comment that I should have carried the document in my car. I told him it was a year ago and that I did not know I had to carry all my legal documents in my car. I explained the situation, and as he scoffed I told him I was not creative enough to make up the story. He repeated his duty to the law, and I asked if he could at least drive me up to get my chemo before arresting me at 2am. Making a short story long, he ended up believing me, gave me two tickets, one being a misdemeanor and said to go to the court with my letter to take care of the misunderstanding. Only me, only in this state could you face arrest on charges that were dropped, a year after they were dropped… ridiculous. So, tomorrow I get to go to the DMV to straighten out the fact that I have an out-of-state license that is invalid due to dropped charges, change some lamp I never knew existed, go to a police station and let them know I did that in 24 hours to get one ticket erased, go to a court to give them the letter they gave me so I can get out of being a potential felon… geeze, if I was going to jail, at this juncture of my life, I would do something to make it worth it. Seriously, not like I have the time (a year or two) or the patience (about 10 minutes) to deal with nonsense.

Remember kids, check your license plate lamp daily so you don’t have to be like me. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. – Deuteronomy 6:5

I Accomplished Something… I Outlived Common Sense

Published on April 21, 2009 I had a fun-filled day of getting my legal issues taken care of… and I realized that common sense does not exist in the state of New York. I went to the DMV to get the issue of this missed court date taken care of. It took me forever to find the NY DMV and when I went in I found that the lady there was rude, had the air about her of only someone whose job was… in her mind… more important than it actually was. I said that I was from out of state and that I was not familiar with NY laws and that for some reason my license was suspended for missing a court date over an issue that was dropped. I continued to tell her that I received no notification of this and asked why it was still on my record after the matter was, after deliberation by the State of New York, dropped. She responded with the stupidest thing I have ever heard of. First, being out of state, no notification is mailed for a suspended license in NY. Apparently, New York can, at any time, fine or suspend an out-of-state license and the driver has to assume it is suspended. So, all out-of-state drivers, take note that your license can be randomly suspended without notification. In PA, the common courtesy of a letter explaining the situation is at least given. I just do not get it. Again, rudely, she stated that the missed court date would stay on my record because the DMV only records that, and not the outcome of dropped cases and that it was now my responsibility to go to Albany with a letter saying that the charges were dropped so

CHAPTER TEN it was on record, and that I had to keep that letter in my possession to show officers that I was not guilty of such a thing. To me it sounded like a loophole to squeeze more money out of unsuspecting people, out of state who probably would not make the trip to NY to appear in court and just pay a hefty New York fine… and yes, they are ridiculous and insane. I wondered why they did not put the fine on the ticket like they do in other states… it is to jack it up later. So, I have to go to court over this whole matter to be maybe fined for something that was dropped. Apparently New York does not abide to the United States Constitution. Amendment V, in the Bill of Rights states clearly that “nor shall any person be subject to the same offense twice.” In law, this is called double jeopardy. Once proven innocent, you are always innocent in the eyes of our founding fathers, who must have enjoyed their now also deceased companion, common sense. You cannot be tried or held accountable for the same thing twice. Right now, I have to go to court, facing hefty fines and a possibility of jail time (small, but there) for something I was cleared of a year ago. To me it makes no sense, but that is the world we live in today… a senseless one. After that fiasco at the DMV, I had to find a NAPA and buy a one-dollar light for my license plate. It took me a little time to find the darn thing and after that, being it was cold and pouring rain, longer than usual to change it. My hands still do not work the best in 39 -degree weather. An officer signed off on the “fixit ticket” and said it was basically ridiculous that I got one for something so stupid… if he only knew the amount of stupidity I face in an average day. But, um yeah, I put on the wrestling shoes and drilled for a little today. I am out of shape and weak at a much lower weight than I was before. I know the doctors do not want me to even lift or run, but I really just don’t

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care. They also think I am shooting myself in the gut with blood thinners… and I stopped that two weeks ago, figuring the 1% odds of another clot probably were not in my favor, but I may as well live my life to the fullest and not in a padded box. I am sure the youth in me is fixing things up fine, and I am certain and determined to get back in shape and compete again. Doctors, and no offense to you guys, can give facts and figures and percentages and everything, but there is no measurement or medicine that can control the human spirit. There is no prediction that is completely void of God and the will to do something. If I want to wrestle, fine. If it kills me, I have accepted that, it sure is better to go out doing something you love rather than go out being in a hospital, strapped to tubes and lines, in a lonely wing of a cancer ward. I’ll take an aneurism any day, seriously. I’ll get there, it just has to be one day at a time, and luckily, I have all summer to be able to find a way to be strong for seven minutes… for sure the now seven-pound cut to 141 seems much more manageable than the 24-pound one.

Obituary Of Common Sense

Published on April 21, 2009 [Author’s Note: Adam included this essay on his blog. It is a variation of a newspaper column originally written by Lori Bergman in 1998.] Today, we mourn the passing of an old friend by the name of Common Sense. Common Sense lived a long life, but died from heart failure at the brink of the Millennium. No one really knows how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools; hospitals, homes, factories and offices, helping folks get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws and

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frivolous lawsuits held no power over Common Sense. He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in from rain, the early bird gets the worm, and life isn’t always fair. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you earn), reliable parenting strategies (the adults are in charge, not the kids), and it’s okay to come in second. A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, Common Sense survived cultural and educational trends including feminism, body piercing, whole language and new math. But his health declined when he became infected with the ‘if-it-only-helps-one-person-it’s-worth-it’ virus. In recent decades, his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of overbearing federal legislation. He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers and enlightened auditors. His health rapidly deteriorated when schools endlessly implemented zero tolerance policies; when reports were heard of six-year-old boys charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; when a teen was suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch; when a teacher was fired for reprimanding an unruly student. It declined even further when schools had to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but couldn’t inform the parent when a female student is pregnant or wants an abortion. Finally, Common Sense lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and federal judges stuck their noses in everything from Boy Scouts to professional sports. As the end neared, Common Sense drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments, regarding ques-

tionable regulations for asbestos, low-flow toilets, smart guns, the nurturing of Prohibition Laws and mandatory air bags. Finally, when told that the homeowners association restricted exterior furniture only to that which enhanced property values, he breathed his last. Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. His three stepbrothers survive him: Rights, Tolerance and Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. – Fitting in these times.

Hacking

Published on April 28, 2009 My last day of class is tomorrow and I am currently hacking through my 15-page research paper. Fortunately it is only a rough draft with the final paper due later during the exam period. Even better is that my professor is nice and is sympathetic to the reasons I am behind a little bit. I can almost count down everything I have to do to finish up and get through this semester. I have some sort of pride in just being able to get through it with everything that I missed and every obstacle that I faced. The Ivy League is far from easy, especially while going through chemotherapy, cancer, scans, setbacks, and everything else I have had to face. They say adversity causes some to break and others to break records. I surely haven’t broken any records, but finishing is an accomplishment in itself. I was able to talk to some holistic doctors as I am searching for other things that are conventionally different from chemotherapy. The best news I got in a long time was that the whole vegan thing was actually detrimental. Because my body was so used to all of the protein and calories in meat, they determined

CHAPTER TEN I probably felt like hell from malnutrition. I have been feeling… not myself and I have lost a substantial amount of weight. So, taking their advice, I started eating meat again that is easily digestible in much smaller quantities. I still, for sake of my liver, do not do dairy or beef, and eat only non-hormonal foods, but since starting to eat fish and chicken in moderation (maybe a piece every other dayish), I no longer feel so sore or tired. I did the while vegan thing for a month, and I am much happier and feel much better in the three days off it. For a while, eating became a chore and not what it used to be to me, which was my favorite part of the day. My stomach shrunk drastically, but I need to get back and get fit. My one oncologist said if the cancer is still just in my liver that he would recommend surgery to get it out of me. It is a laparoscopic procedure which should not knock me down too much. Secondly, he said that if I was fit enough, which I am, to take the toxicity of the first regiment I went through, that he would give that to me as well. My first regiment had the cancer in remission, but there was just too much. Now that it is smaller, albeit active, but smaller, surgery and then chemo looks much more promising than the less-than-ten percent chance I have of making it to 26. I figure the maintenance chemo, or the stuff they put you on just to drag you along as long as they can, is pointless. So, you feel crappy the rest of your short time anyways… great. I want aggressive treatment. I want to get this done and over with and that’s why I am researching alternative vaccines and treatments. It is why I want to go through the chemo again. I personally want a life, not a slow death. You do not get anything out of a slow death. So, I found some places that seem great and I am looking into getting into one of them for treatment. I like to hold myself to a higher standard than the average person. – Yours Truly

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Finish Line

Published on May 6, 2009 Well, finals and papers have taken my itch to write, but here I am for an update. As far as cancer goes, pray that it is still in the same spots. If that is the case, it’s surgery and then hopefully I am done. Realistically, the chemo is not working, and in that case it’s more biopsies and an experiment that runs tests on the cancer to find out what chemo it is susceptible to. It is a really draining and annoying process and I wish I hadn’t come back to school… it’s just one more thing on the plate that’s already filled. I went home this weekend to let off some steam, vent, cry, and as my mom said, ‘Fatten up.’ I came back yesterday after partying Saturday, resting Sunday and Monday and, yeah, that brings me to yesterday in the spectra of things. I have an exam later today, my last one, and then it’s just a couple papers. Of course, papers are how papers are. I have been really feeling the weight and finality of the whole cancer thing recently. It’s like carrying around a gorilla for a year and then finally realizing how tired you are… or, better analogy, it is like running after something, tirelessly, and then as it fades away

realizing how tired and frustrated you are. That is what I am: tired and frustrated. This weekend I broke. It broke me. It broke me bad, and it wasn’t good. I just mentally and emotionally became a wreck. I hadn’t shed one tear in a year. I did this weekend. I have good friends, though, friends who are, maybe not always understanding, but try to be. I don’t think many can understand, but they do their best and that’s all that can be asked. Cancer really sucks. It is not just a disease on the body, but also the mind and will. For the first time in a while, I was contemplating quitting. Just ending it. Something inside me just can’t let me do that… sometimes I wish it would, but it can’t. I can’t stop. I can bitch and moan and cry and complain, but I cannot stop. Lord, help me to remember that nothing today is going to happen that you and I, together, can’t handle.

Honest Truths

Published on May 14, 2009 I’m pretty discouraged. My numbers go down, and they tell me it’s not working according to their judgment. What the hell. I went to the doctors today for a ‘fast appointment.’ I

Gene Nighman CORNELL ASSOCIATE ad One of my responsibilities is overseeing the Cornell summer sports camps. I am particularly close with the wrestling camp and members of the wrestling team since I am a Cornell wrestling alumnus and work out with the team during the season. During Adam’s first semester on campus I started working out with him because he had excelled in Greco and that was a specialty of mine. He had shoulder surgery during the year and never competed. The following summer Adam came up to Cornell to help me as a counselor at the camps. He was great with the kids; however, he got into a little bit of trouble with a young lady staff member. Nothing bad, but it was something we didn’t condone with young kids in the dorm. I knew him pretty well by now and said to him, ‘Adam, you know what... I think the dorm thing might be tempting you too much with all these college girls working here as camp counselors. You can come live with me once camp is over. So he did and he paid me the going rate, like $300 a month, until school started up. Come September, he came to me and said, ‘Hey Gene, I really like it here. I’m just going to stay here with you, okay?’ So, Adam ended up living with me in my place in Cortland [about 20 miles from the Cornell campus] for the better part of the next two years. Adam didn’t hang out with the other Cornell wrestlers that much. I think half the reason was because he lived at my place up in Cortland. I have a son close to Adam’s age who lived with me for a while when Adam was there. They got along well and even though my son wasn’t a wrestler they’d go to the gym and run the hills together. Cortland was my son’s home town, so he knew a lot of the local

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girls and hangouts. I don’t think Adam ever had a girlfriend who went to Cornell but he met a lot of girls who had gone to school with my son. Consequently, he enjoyed the social life in Cortland more so than in Ithaca. You have to understand that he’s from Pittsburgh and I think the Cornell atmosphere was very different for him than the blue-collar atmosphere of Pittsburgh. Those two places are worlds apart. Cortland State is a Division III teachers’ college, different from Cornell. The young ladies attending the teachers’ college were more to his liking. So he often ended going out downtown with my son and hanging out at the night spots. A lot of college kids are into online games, like poker. Adam was in to online Scrabble. He had an amazing vocabulary from all his reading. Being a competitor, he’d come up with all these words that I never heard of. He would kill me in scrabble. I’m a chess player. I’d call Adam a fair chess player so we did play some chess against each other. Most everyone saw Adam from the wrestler side, but after reading his blogs I think a lot of people went, ‘Wow, this guy is pretty intelligent.’ While he was living with me he’d talk about some pretty deep stuff. He had some Russian ancestors so we’d have some conversations about Russian history even though I’m not a history guy. He studied this stuff and was really serious about history and social matters, like social inequities. Politically, he was very conservative and probably would not have been saying too many good things about the current administration. He did a lot of reading, not just for class, but he’d read texts like that just for the enjoyment of it.

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wanted to get in, out and just whatever. My mother, who has a hard time keeping her mouth shut at times, prodded question after question for two-and-a-half hours. I swear the infernos of hell cannot be that bad. I got to sit there and get a detailed description of how I am probably going to die. It freaking sucks. It all sucks. You want me to be honest, I’ll be honest. I’m done with the positive, I have not very long to live from most professionals, and I feel ripped off, cheated, stressed, and everything else. I feel pains and most of the time, my life is a living hell. All that hard work to get screwed. I cannot even say that hard work and values work in this world, because they don’t. I busted my ass as hard as the next person, and for what? The average death row inmate lives longer than I do. Most live 15-20 years… after being sentenced. Ironic isn’t it? I had dreams, aspirations, I wanted to be president. I wanted to be a father. Maybe even graduate college. That is slowly going to hell in a hand basket. And please, don’t tell me to fight, or be positive, or any of that stupid bull$#%. This is something you cannot fight. You just sit there and take it and hope it works. A lot of times I wish I could be put down, just humanely euthanized like an old dog. I’m not that lucky, I get to go through organ failure, hospitals, being hooked to tubes, the whole bit. It sucks. I asked for the big chemo guns again, but they won’t give them to me. I asked to fight it. What I got was a notion of being a lab rat experiment again… if I even get in. I pray, plead and beg, yet I don’t know what his plans are. Nothing looks good. I can’t put the facade on much more. Reality is reality. It hurts, it sucks. I wish I had my life back. I probably would have had more fun instead of working for the future. My future seems destined for a box. It’s just a waste. I feel like everyone that’s been there, helped me along, all my hard work, just pointless. If I was told a while ago

that I was going to die so young, I would have had more fun, hung out with more friends, did so much different. I wouldn’t have worked so hard for things that will probably have no effect. I need a miracle. I believe in them, I just am beginning to doubt that they are for me. I guess there still is hope, and I know three-fourths of you will take it as such. I have hope, just also a heavy dose of reality. I doubt the three-fourths of you have had people look you in the face and tell you that cancer was going to kill you, and how. Tell you matter-of-factly that some people just die from these things. Some people, healthy, never smoked, worked out regularly, smart, hardworking, just get screwed over at 23. It’s a freaking blast. I get spared from a car wreck to die a miserable cancerous death… I guess that jerk who commented on how I was going to die was right. Go figure. Of course there are things that may prolong my life, and I am going to do them as they come hoping one of them will fully work. It just is a long shot, and it’s out of my hands. Fighting is pointless; you can’t fight something like this. You can take the drugs, stay in shape, do whatever, but fighting it, that is impossible. Well, yeah I am sure this is not what everyone wanted to read as their daily inspiration, but to be quite honest, I am not that inspiring.

Some Explaining

Published on May 20, 2009 Let us get some things out of the way. My last post was inspired by a friend, who, after reading my blog, called me sort of hypocritical for being so upbeat and then near tears and torn up the next day. She challenged me to tell you how I really felt, and so I let go. And, as I expected but did not really want, the response was overwhelming, with posts both insightful and ludicrous.

CHAPTER ELEVEN That leaves me to address something right now. First, I understand some people have it worse off than I do, and I feel for them, I really do. But please, do not pull such a card on a forum or something and say I am being ungrateful. That is absurd. There is no need for anyone to pull such a card. That is uncalled for. Secondly, some people out there were actually disappointed that I let some honest and deep-rooted feelings out on a blog… my blog… in which I have tried to be as brutally honest as I could be. I apologize, but I do not wake up every day, go to the bathroom, wash my hands, look in the mirror and say, ‘I am going to write something to inspire so and so today.’ If you want a Lifetime inspirational film, go watch one. At 23, I am not Superman, I have bad days, I get down, and I do have feelings. I am not a professional writer, and I think it is idiotic to think that this site and everything about it is about some higher cause and not about me. Last time I looked, I was the main topic. So, to get that off my chest, because although I think this has magnified my purpose in life, I still want to live and beat this. I cannot assist anyone in their struggle from the grave. Just cannot. Wish I could. However, things are going very well. Incredibly well. I feel really good actually. This new diet seems to be working out quite well and I am going back today to meet and build on it. It is an immune-boosting diet, a bit of a detox, and full of minerals clinically proven to destroy cancer cells in actual laboratory tests. And, I feel great from it. I have had night sweats, which is a sign of cancer remitting, and I have had some fevers as well, which is a sign of detox. It is a fever that I don’t feel sick from, just a little warm from. I was told it could happen, and with all the junk in my body that probably is what is happening. I went out Friday night and had a great time. Saturday morning I had what I would

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consider an epiphany. I have been a bit bitter lately. Even since the start of this I have had some grudges against particular people regarding particular things… and I can hold a grudge. It hit me, though, when I was in the bathroom, getting ready to shower, and it hit me. God holds no grudge, even when someone slanders Him or does some malicious kind of evil, He holds no grudge. Who am I to hold a grudge, if He does not hold a grudge. Who is Adam Frey to say someone is not good enough, or to be bitter to someone? I sat down and felt relieved. I prayed, asked for it to be gone, and said that I need to change my path from where I wanted to go, to maybe where God wants me to go. Inside, I felt that calming feeling of His presence, like He was in the room going, ‘Finally you realize this.’ I told Him I am worth a miracle. And, if I get one, well, I will make the most of it, not for me, but for Him. It is an epiphany, and I have been feeling better. Sure, I have the hip pain still and the this and thats of everything, but that is life. I don’t even think about the chance of leaving here prematurely, because deep down, I know that is not going to happen. Trials come to pass and everyone gets tested at one time or the other, mine just happened to be hard and long and tough. I have never lost my faith. I haven’t been the happiest at times, for sure, but my faith is still there, and I know I’ll pull through. I have to, I have a lot of hope and love and faith to give yet, and I need more than a couple years to give it. Other than that, there is a story to be up sometime soon on AOL.com that was done and written fantastically that I hope you all can check. I guess possibly sooner than later the world is going to get to see Adam Frey. I hope they like what they get, but if not, well, I guess not everyone can like everything. Your character is what you are. Your image is what people see. Never let your image compromise your character.

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A Tale To Be Told In Two Parts

Published on June 6, 2009 My doctor’s appointment ended up being an immediate admit to the hospital. We ran out of pain pills and by the time I was in the office I was hurting very badly. The nurse would not give me anything for pain until I was checked in. It took two hours of excruciating sitting (which is the worst position for me) to finally be checked in. They immediately took me back and put me in a bed and ordered scans. The pain medicine did not work. It progressed on my nerves until I was screaming in a back room in the cancer center. It hurt so bad that at that moment I was starting to contemplate if I wanted to even live anymore. After I went down and waited for these scans, they set another needle, gave me the stuff to drink and sent me back up. Injections of a drug called Dilaudid or something of the such (I can’t remember the name even though I am still on it) were able to get it to the point where I was able to get out of the fetal position and stop screaming for about 30 minutes per hour. Research will show that Dilaudid is about three times stronger than heroine, and about four to eight times stronger than morphine. I will tell you that it was not strong enough to remove all the pain The results of the scan came back saying there were no new spots and not all spots grew; however, the blood count doubled and there is a spot between my liver, ribcage, and diaphragm that is about the size of a baseball that pushes on everything for every breath I take. It is one of the most painful spots a tumor can sit, and although it can be surgically removed to take away the pain, the doctors advise against it because they say it will grow back. I could care less, lust keep taking it out. The pain is unfathomable. They admitted me to the hospital for pain where I was until yesterday afternoon. They put me on a plan which was a full milligram,

Adam Frey’s first live competition as a Cornell wrestler came in December, 2006 at the Southern Scuffle tournament in Greensboro, North Carolina. This was Adam’s first live competition in 18 months. For those who were there, Adam put on an eye-popping show...

Cory Cooperman ASSISTANT COACH In his first match Adam wrestles this kid Kevin Vinh, who was a teammate of mine from Lehigh. I knew Kevin as a tough competitor but that day Adam had him crying. Adam was so strong that he could inflict pain on his opponents. Next match is against Keller from UTC who is ranked number two in the country – an excellent, experienced wrestler. What Adam did to him was embarrassing. He gave Keller a good beat-down and really bloodied him up in the first period. Adam was a physical wrestler, a competitor, and he could do some damage.

Jordan Leen ADAM’S TEAMMATE I remember Adam’s match against Matt Keller of UTC in the quarterfinals. Keller was a guy who, three years ahead of me, had won four Tennessee state titles. I always considered him the older, meaner, tougher wrestler from Tennessee who I always looked up to, feared in some ways and definitely respected. He was a returning All-American and ranked very high because he had just defeated the defending National champion, Matt Valenti, in the Las Vegas tournament. His wrestling

Corey Cooperman was an All-American wrestler at Lehigh before Cornell hired him.

persona was very much like a ‘bad guy’, you know, like a Brands type of bully. Now the Scuffle is Adam’s first college tournament and he’s meeting the number two ranked wrestler in the country in the quarters. This was where Adam’s freakish ways started to identify themselves on the wrestling mat. Twice Adam took a good shot – he had a nice single leg – and Keller sprawled, kinda bullied him, pounding on his head, and Adam ends up flat on his belly with his hands locked on the single leg. We’re all thinking ‘this is going to be trouble’ because that’s a terrible position. But Adam, with his hands locked around the top of Keller’s hamstring, starts making his way up. He ends up driving up, pulling the leg in, not just finishing but getting the leg totally in the air, high amplitude and thrashing him to his back. That was the most awesome display of something that you can’t defend against. Keller did everything you’re trained to do if a guy has a pretty good single on you. And Adam did the same thing to him again in the second period. At this point the whole Cornell team is gathered around Adam’s mat – actually it seemed like the whole gym was gathered around the mat – and we’re watching this physical specimen

athletic freak show where Adam’s doing143 CHAPTER things we never saw anybody else do. I remember looking over at Coach Koll the second time Adam pulled off this move. He was walking around, very quiet, almost embarrassed, trying to keep from smiling. I’m sure he was thinking ‘What’s this guy doing, that’s not coaching.’ That whole display, that whole drama of the situation – that was all very much Adam. It was eccentric – he didn’t finish the singleleg like everybody else did. He did it in a bigger, grander, unique and extraordinary Adam-like fashion. He exerted this amazing amount of energy and it exhausted him. He ended up having countless ‘blood time outs’ that seemed like they were handed down from above. You can’t bleed more conveniently than Adam did in this match. It was totally exhausting to do the kind of things he was doing, yet he held on to win that one. He really put his footprint on college wrestling in his first tournament, which is pretty cool.

Rob Koll cornell COACH I’ll never forget his debut at the Southern Scuffle. Adam was notorious for cutting too much weight – his father actually came down to help him make weight all night long. When he stepped out onto the mat Adam looked like he just came from a POW camp, but he proceeded to beat the living daylights out of everybody. We were just in awe. He showed us ungodly and unnatural strength in how physically powerful he was. He would shoot in and it was like having barnacles on your leg – you couldn’t get his hands off you. I was saying, ‘Oh my God, this guy can win the National championship.’ He ended up having a very, very good year until the end.

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or the equivalent of three lines of heroine every four hours to be assisted with Oxycontin and Oxycodone… which are also opium drugs related more closely to crack cocaine. It did take the pain away. It did give me an appetite, and I did luckily pass my tests for chemo which I had today and will explain next time. I know I will be on these long enough that I will have to battle withdrawal… heroine withdrawal. I will be, because of medical reasons, more or less a drug addict. I can’t blame myself and I do not care. To keep the pain at bay, I have to stay on a pain plan. My plan is a 2mg tablet of Dilaudid which is the same as the one milligram I was getting on IV, or three five-milligram morphine pills. To assist that, I am on 20mg of Oxycodone every four hours as needed and 20mg of Oxycontin every 12 hours. I try to stay more away from those ones because they make me itch severely. I will become almost at need for these things and after beating the cancer, it will be a challenge to get back to being me. Even Jesus prayed that if there was any way not to go through it, to let that cup pass over him.

Part II

Published on June 10, 2009 I have been getting better. Now that my pain is more under control, it is easier to sleep, eat and do all of the little things. I even got out of my house and watched the Penguins game at the arena last night (my brother was able to negotiate two tickets from my dad somehow and that’s all I know about that). Chemo, well, I take chemo well. It is not how I take it, though; it is how the cancer takes it. From the awful smell of my urine (which is a definitive smell of dead cells that I only get when chemo is working), the news seems positive. I am staying positive. I am feeling better every day and am in less pain every day, although sometimes some move-

ments really throw me for a loop. With the warming weather and with my strength coming back, I am hoping to maybe pull out my scroll saw and do some fretwork. I used to be above average at that. In no way will I ever say I am a master woodworker, I will leave that title to my father, but I can make some jewelry boxes and such. It always is a sense of accomplishment to do something like that. I like that. The one big thing I did was go to the Pens’ game. It was exciting and so much fun. My brother searched on ticketexchange.com for like three days and somehow was able to find two very good seats at a reasonable price, and like a hawk, swooped in for the buy. That leads everything to the all-decisive game seven. I can’t wait. I sort of wish hockey season just did not end, but having the Stanley Cup back in Pittsburgh would be great. Especially after one particular player turned down a lucrative long-term deal with Pittsburgh for the reason of him wanting to win a cup and wanting to go to the best team to do that. That was a pretty low comment to a team as good as the one we have in Pittsburgh, and it would be poetic justice in a way. Never give up, never, never, never.

Um Hello

Published on June 20, 2009 I hope to go out Saturday night. It will be the first time I am out with anyone for two months. I don’t know how long I will last, but I hope long enough to see or do something, anything. I have lost a lot of energy, weight, and strength. The blood, now that it recovered and is normal, has helped with the energy, but this is hard, aggressive chemo and I am not in the shape I was in to really take it like I was able to. It is wearing me out. I hope it still shows signs of success, because that gives hope, which gives energy. I think this is

CHAPTER Garrett Frey adam’s brother Satan’s last torment. I think this is the thing that will finally put it away for good so I can go back to recovering then being me. I sure hope so. Anyways, I will try to get on as much as I can or at least have ‘celebrity posts’ of friends and the whatnot. It may make life interesting. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. – Isaiah 53:10

Ups And Downs

Published on June 24, 2009 I felt good throughout the weekend, even worked out, and then last night fevers struck. So, no sleep… all night… and all day. Not sleeping sucks. It’s frustrating to sit there with a low-grade fever and just want to get some sleep. It is miserable. I think I came off my pain meds too fast, because when I finally took them, I fell asleep fast and felt much better. Well the good news is that the pain is subsiding, I am eating, gaining weight and I feel good enough to make it out and do things. My tumor marker dropped on Monday which is even better news. I hope it keeps dropping – at any second it could become resistant again and be futile. For now, I really want surgery, laser out the liver and do non-invasive surgery. It would knock the cancer back and give me time and common sense says less cancer, better chance of survival. My oncologist won’t have any of it. He says in six months or so if chemo doesn’t work it will come back. It pisses me off for them to continually poison me to no avail and not try another thing. If some cells don’t respond, try to take them out of me. Of course the medical world and common sense do not align. I just keep praying that my number gets down to the point where I can get the surgery

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After Adam’s successful debut at the Southern Scuffle, he jumped high in the national rankings. He had a real tough match coming up though the following weekend against Penn State. For me that was one of the most exciting moments of Adam’s career at Cornell. It was Adam’s first dual meet and first match in Ithaca. My family and some friends came up to Ithaca for the match and we were worried. He had to wrestle Jake Strayer (ranked #5 at 133) who was good and Adam was having some trouble making 133. Adam didn’t seem nearly as concerned as we all were. Before the match he told us, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of things out there.’ He pulled it out and won the bout, although it was a little bit closer than I would have liked.

Jake Strayer competed against Adam at both youth and college level.

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and just end this whole thing. My hopes are up that maybe this new treatment will do that and be enough to have them take it out immediately. I have a long way to go on this chemo cycle… round two of six starts Monday. The chemo really wipes me out. I went into it in a bad way, so hopefully it isn’t that bad this time through. I am also pretty scared about nationalized healthcare. For people like me, the government would have the option to say no to treatments that could prolong or maybe save my life. That is so scary. I do not want the government and nationalize health care to say no. I don’t think it should be their choice. It’s scary. It isn’t right. I am praying it does not pass. Other than that, I have been busy with my fundraiser trying to get everything together. It is at Rider on the 12th of July and includes a match and a clinic. It should be a great event and I hope it sells out and fills the 2,000-seat gym.

is understandable. He’s feeling better and eating more, gaining some weight so he’s now back to being the bigger brother for the time being. From what I’ve heard, Sports Illustrated will be here this week to do a story on him, so I’m sure he will be back on tomorrow or the next day talking about how that went. As for now, farewell and God bless. Hope to see you at the All-Star Match.

Good News (written by Garrett Frey)

Published on June 30, 2009 Adam asked me to write for him today since he was really tired and hit the sack a little early tonight. I’m going to keep it short, sweet and right to the point, for I assume everyone wants to hear the good news rather than a prolonged story, something I can’t provide for you tonight. Today I drove Adam to the hospital for an 11 o’clock appointment. The doctor came in and told us everything was good. This was up, that was up, this was functioning well, etc. What needed to be down was down, and dropping rapidly. He can no longer feel his tumors in his side, which is probably good. His liver is functioning well. Everything is positive… except he’s going through some withdrawal with his pain medications, which

Adam gets his game face on as Cornell battles Wisconsin. Cornell University

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Chapter twelve

Tired, But Better

Published on July 3, 2009 I do wish I could be able to get on here more and keep the updates coming, but the chemo and the activity recently has me pretty worn out. On Monday, I was told my liver was at failure levels three weeks prior. My liver was failing and I was pretty much screwed. The pain of such a thing is terrible, however, I passed my heart test – albeit barely – and started chemo. The chemo is something that is actually supposed to work and kill cancer this time. I have confidence in it. I have seen and felt the change. But at this stage it is so hard on the body that no one has been able to take the drugs. In fact, they almost killed me, putting me in transfusion rooms getting multiple units of blood daily. Something deep inside me just can’t give up. I figured I may as well take the risks and be the first person with my disease on this regiment. In three weeks I cannot see the four visible tumors that popped out of my side. The jutting of my liver has gone down to where my stomach looks normal. I have really bad withdrawals from the pain medicines (they figured I wouldn’t ever be off them), but slowly we are cutting back. The doctor was amazed as

he could feel no tumors in my gut or liver and declared my lungs and liver to be “cleared”. And all of that was after just one cycle, so things are on the up and up. Chemo is hell, as we all know. I feel better as my health is getting better, but it is very, very tiring. It is hard to eat, although I put on about 12 pounds (I was down to 127 pounds, which is very small for me). Other than that, I feel better. That said, it’s been a busy time trying to get the benefit together and having my brother’s grad party tomorrow and not to mention the interviews with Sports Illustrated both yesterday and today. It seems like a lot and on top of it I am getting those terrible neupogen shots that give me the achy, beat-by-a-bat feeling. I feel almost like wishing I could stop the world from spinning for a bit to get some rest and then getting back to things right on pace. I am not going anywhere anytime soon. As I told a very close friend, I promised I would beat this, and I don’t break promises. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to here’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. – Matthew 17:20

CHAPTER Cory Cooperman assistant coach

Okay, Back On Board

Published on July 13, 2009 I am sorry I have not been on as much as I would have liked lately. As I feel better and can breathe a little bit I will be back on writing more often. Our internet had been giving us fits due to storms over the last bit, but the big excuse is that I have been sick with chemo and extremely busy trying to kick off the first big fundraiser that was at Rider University this Sunday. If you build it, I guess they will come as the old adage says; so, with much help and much gratitude, we built it and people came. In fact, the event was such a success that Rider University and my foundation agreed to a five-year contract in effort to make the Adam Frey Classic an annual event. Which brings me to another big task I have enveloped myself in. To be blunt, everything for me looks optimistic. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. We all know things change, but I have the faith that my nightmare will soon be over and the chilly Arctic night will soon turn to dawn after what at times seemed like an eternity. There are many people who have helped me, and the gratitude I received is un-repayable in many ways. Well, there is one way. I am trying to forge ahead with the Adam Frey Foundation, which will be dedicated to assisting people financially with those expenses that insurance does not quite cover. They would be lodging expenses, travel costs, etc. Hopefully, we together can help others to get the treatment that they need and to assist them in getting it. So, I am forging ahead. The Classic was an exceptional experience and hopefully photos and video will be up on the site in the days that follow. I owe a great deal of thanks to everyone involved for putting it together and for those who showed up to the enjoyable afternoon. I have rested on my laurels of success for 14 hours after getting home just after midnight. It is back to work, though. We have

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Adam and I had similar paths, both of us going to Blair, both lightweights cutting a lot of pounds. So it was natural that we took to each other. The competition between us was always a friendly thing but it got more competitive as he got older. It’s tough to explain his style. If you got in on his legs, he’d do that ‘Pittsburgh funk’ like Troy Letters did – grab the ankle, roll underneath it, come up and score. The other thing he did well was dive in on a shot and just pull in, pull in, pull in. He was a very dangerous wrestler. Adam was on a tear during the season. He beat good kids from schools like Minnesota, Lehigh, Oklahoma and Hofstra. He was undefeated going into the Penn match where he had to wrestle the defending National champion, Matt Valenti, in a much anticipated match-up. Matt Valenti is a strong, smart wrestler. Not necessarily the greatest wrestler, but a great strategic competitor. He knows his strengths, forms a game plan and keeps within his strengths. He doesn’t go out and wrestle Adam from the outside; he doesn’t go upper body. He knows that if he grabs Adam’s leg, that Adam is going to go ‘funk.’ Sure enough, he goes for Adam’s leg and as soon as Adam went ‘funk’, Valenti slapped him in a cradle and pinned him. Wrestling smart like that is why Valenti became a two-time National champion. Next time they wrestled, the match was a lot closer [4-1 in favor of Valenti in the EIWA finals]. Adam was closing the gap on him.

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another event coming up in Pittsburgh soon, and as I get more info I will try to get it out. The way you repay me is by giving to someone else. – Jack Bogle

Reports

Published on July 21, 2009 I would normally be nervous. It was Friday, a scan day, and as always what one would call a prelude to a life-or-death conversation. My scans haven’t turned out really well in the past, but by going on faith and feeling, maybe this time they would turn around, right? The scan was not the normal experience. The stuff they gave me to drink was ice-cold and when they shot the dye in, the cold-tohot made me throw up everywhere during my scan. It happens sometimes, I just guess I have been filled with too much radioactive stuff too fast. So, covered in my own vomit, I left and waited for the schedule-changing phone call… it never came. The weekend was peaceful as Garrett went to school, the house was all mine, and I was all sleep. I needed the unimpeded rest. A vacation of sorts away from everyone – 48 glorious hours of basically sleep. Monday again, I should have been nervous. My mom was pretty high-strung, I wasn’t so much. I was relieved to see I was still on schedule for chemo, and the scans and counts came as more of a relief. I showed a full response across the board and shrinkage of between 25-30% per tumor, pending on size and amount of scar tissue and everything. My number fell over 95,000 points to way less than half of what it was before. They are expecting further drops to be made. A 25% shrink in six weeks is pretty significant. More so because many tumors are full of dead cancer and scar tissue that has not been cleared out by what for the first three weeks was a barely functioning liver. When I told my doctor I was on pace for more shrinkage

Adam with girlfriend Danielle Kover in August, 2009 before an Adam Frey fundraiser.

than with fresher cancer in the BEP and high dose (first two treatments) on cancer that was mostly scar tissue and teratoma he looked and said, “I never thought about it like that.” We are all looking for more drops and surgery. I know it’s going to be successful. I just know this time, it’s a calming knowledge from faith. He who is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward him for what he has done. – Proverbs 19:17

Huh, What, Wait… What? Published on July 28, 2009 I had an adventurous, exciting weekend. A friend flew down and I was active to say the least. I went out, hung out, and basically did more walking than seriously anyone. In fact,

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Adam and Danielle enjoying the view over Pittsburgh from Mount Washington in the summer of 2009.

I even played golf. Par three, but walking nine mini-holes in 90-degree weather is a workout for me. In fact, I felt and feel great. I didn’t quite get how my blood could be so low. I was so low they decided to not give me chemo. I am pretty pissed off about it, to say the least. I have a needle stuck in my chest and hopefully after transfusions tomorrow and more painful shots I can get it. It is the first time I have been delayed. Ugh, just ugh. I don’t know what it really means, I know I was low coming into the cycle and I wonder that maybe I just dropped. I really don’t know if this is good or bad, though. I guess a day or two break isn’t anything. It could be, though. I only have like one more cycle left before surgery and then being done with this whole endeavor. I am

more than ready to get this over with. Everything else checked out fine. I don’t know what is really going on. Hopefully, it is just a bump in the road and nothing too major… I am getting sick of major. I wouldn’t mind just smooth sailing. So tomorrow is transfusions, and I may as well change my address to the hospital for the next week. I hate the hospital, but it is what it is.

Well, This Is Funny Published on July 31, 2009 Yesterday I got a call asking if I wanted to get chemo. They were originally going to cancel the entire endeavor and go on with the next cycle; however, upon further review of my blood work, the doctor realized that my

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counts were actually not that bad and that I could receive my dosage. So, there I was getting the poison. It went quite well and my numbers seemed to stop skyrocketing, meaning they are starting to drop… great news. It means that most of, if not, all of it is dead, and we all find out what is going on in a month, pending a PET scan. If the PET comes back with a positive report, it’s surgery or another precautionary cycle and surgery. Either way, there is a light at the end of the tunnel… and this time it isn’t a train. Everything looks so positive that I got the doctor’s graces to even get on the mat again. Imagine that. I hopefully will be able to do stuff to start getting back into shape. I do wonder in the back of my mind if I still have it. I guess time will tell. Get strong for surgery, and then get back for the rest of my life… sounds like a plan.

There was one bout in Adam’s Cornell career that was especially gratifying for me. It was his Easterns semi-finals match against Robbie Preston of Harvard. Adam had won his first two bouts over Lipp of American and Ciasulli of Lehigh, and was now about to face Preston, his old friend and teammate from Blair. Adam sat out the Cornell-Harvard dual, so this was the first time the two had met in college competition. I got up from the Cornell section and walked to the other side of the gym to sit closer to the mat. It was a very hard-fought match. I think Adam had the lead and was getting a little tired; Preston came back to tie the bout and send it into overtime. I was not feeling good about the outcome as the third period and overtime normally were not Adam’s forte. In the first overtime period, Preston quickly got in on Adam and was really close to taking him down. He got behind Adam while on their feet. Basically all Preston had to do was pop his hip, lift Adam and take him to the mat to win it. But instead Adam stepped behind him and hit a ‘standing Peterson’ to take Preston to the mat and get the points that ended the match in his favor. That had been my bread and butter move from the bottom position. I can’t tell you how many times I’d hit Adam with that move in practice so that after a while he learned it. To see him finish that flurry, in overtime, with that move that I had taught him was just so exciting for me... and all the Cornell fans.

Back Again

Published on August 16, 2009 I was not, as one e-mailer described, “on the ball” with updates because, like the rest of the world, I needed a vacation in which I could relax and reinvigorate myself with reality. Reality then struck upon my return, or actually halfway through my vacation, with pneumonia that put me in the hospital for two more days. Therefore, needing my rest and having the stress of an upcoming event this weekend, I was away for a bit. I apologize for not being around to update everyone. I have been busy, burnt out, run down, and then busy. It’s typical. So, vacation was fantastic until I became sick and had to be cared for by my girlfriend… needless to say, that was not so bad as she cared for my every need and put up with my bull@!$#. The hospital thing was strange and annoying. I did not realize I had pneumonia… apparently rather advanced… but I

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Adam with Josh Liebman, head of the Adam Frey Foundation, and below with coach Jeff Buxton at the first Adam Frey Classic in July, 2009. Brooke Zumas, ZumPhotography.com

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The NCAAFREY: Wrestling he took Ruggirello down and 154 2007 ADAM A COLLECTIONwhen OF BLOGS & STORIES Championships took place in Auburn cradled him. As he was throwing in the Hills, Michigan. Adam Frey was Cornell’s cradle, his legs kicked the referee and entrant at 133 pounds. The tournament knocked the referee out. While Adam turned into a low point in Adam’s was holding Ruggirello on his back, the wrestling career. referee was laying knocked out on the mat. There was no one there to award Garrett Frey Adam the points he deserved. I don’t know why he didn’t make adam’s brother weight the second day but he was Adam’s first year went well until the devastated. I could relate to his situation NCAAs. He was seeded third in the because I had been there once [not country as a freshman, but he had an making weight at NCAAs]. I knew how it awful tournament. He was ahead in felt to be there – it sucks. I certainly bit his first bout 8-0 when got pinned and my tongue in reprimanding him. he didn’t make weight the second day. Looking back, I would have sat down and talked with him saying, ‘You have to move up, you’re cutting way too much weight. You’re way too big for 133.’ Plus, unknown to all of us, the tumors were growing in his body since January of that season.

Cory Cooperman ASSISTANT COACH Adam meets Gallick in the first round and starts ripping him up. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden Adam is pinned. He’d go to his back at times and sometimes it came back to haunt him. Adam used all his muscles to squeeze and hold on; he’d throw the legs in, he’d try to hold the pace down. He’d get so tired from cutting the weight that he didn’t want to have to wrestle at such a frenzied pace all the time, especially in an early round of the tournament. He’d hold on, and at times he’d hold on too long and I think that was the situation with Gallick in that match – he held on too long and got pinned. The next match he came back and wrestled Ruggirello from Hofstra. Though he won 3-2, he actually got ripped off in that match

Gene Nighman CORNELL ASSOCIATE ad Adam was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. He lived with me so I was given the dubious task of watching him and making sure he managed his weight. He’d go, ‘Well, I’ll just work it off.’ He’d rather eat a lot and work it off because, by God, his capacity to work out was incredible. He had some genetics that were amazing. He was use to eating a freaking ton and then working it off. Eat and work, eat and work – that was his routine. Adam also didn’t have the good sense to drop and stay below the weight. He’d say, ‘I’m a half-a-pound under... I’ll eat half-a-pound of something and I’ll be right on.’ That’s what happened to him at Nationals. He was under; he was under the weight. And then he ate up so he’d be right on, but he miscalculated the fluctuation of the scale or the amount of fluid intake and missed weight by one ounce. He tried to cut it too close. When he was down to weight there was nobody leaner than him. All skin and muscle. He worked his body down to one

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At his peak Adam could execute dramatic, high-scoring wrestling moves, and he loved playing to the the crowd. Danielle Hobeika

or two percent body fat. Of my 35 to 40 years of being around wrestlers, I’ve never seen anybody leaner than Adam when he was down to 133. You know how Adam always seemed to fade and had a fatigue problem. Many times I tried to give him advice on the better way to prepare for matches – get your weight down, eat a little bit and keep it down so you did not have to work out strenuously right before you made weight, so that you didn’t waste your energy making weight. He was always losing four or five

pounds shortly before his match and he was so lean already that those last few pounds came off really hard. That was probably four or five hours of workout, thus he didn’t always have a whole lot of energy in reserve for the match. With the one-hour weigh-in, he’d look lethargic late in the match because he had already burned so much energy making weight. He was a little stubborn and set in his ways like that. For most of his career it worked well for him; he was always successful. But it backfired for him at Nationals.

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knew something was terribly wrong. I am out and fine and feeling much better now, although I get very tired and still am uncomfortable from it. Although in discomfort, this weekend was the benefit and the show had to go on. It was nice and I thank everyone who was involved. My lady friend came down for the benefit and today, upon a mention from my father, we decided to check out the new casino. I walk into casinos with a limit on money and for pretty much a day of entertainment. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. Normally I end up having my entertainment pay for my dinner and parking and it’s a day. Today, however, we both were able to win pretty big. It is always much more fun winning than losing and walking out with a few Benjamins wealthier has me heavily contemplating returning for some more “entertainment”. How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity! – Psalm 133:1

The Mirror

Published on August 20, 2009 This post is called “The Mirror” because it’s mostly a reflection. I look into mirrors, at photographs, at my ID that doesn’t look like me – as I was so rudely told tonight. I know I do not look like me, and to have it pointed out really brings up a lot of hurt and embarrassment. I live every day looking at someone else in the mirror. It’s frustrating, it hurts. It’s hard for me to go to the gym, seeing everyone as I once was and seeing me as a fraction of my former self. I know I went through a lot and I have heard all the feelgoods and the it’s-notyour-faults and whatever. It still hurts. I look in the mirror and I try to catch glimpses of that person before. The person who had brown hair, not thin blond fuzz. The person with a fuller face. The person who

looked like they were chiseled from granite. Mostly, I look into the eyes. The eyes they say are the gateway to the soul. I try to see flickers of my eyes before. I had the eyes of a champion. I had eyes that were backed by a silent intensity; a maybenot-so-silent air of self-confidence, the eyes that met other people’s and let them know by a glance that I was for real. My body language showed a swagger, an image of self-reassurance, and looking even harder, maybe a boyish innocence. Those eyes were set on being the best… they were big and full and brown and they knew business. They aren’t there anymore. I try to sometimes put on my game face… like match time, serious… it doesn’t work. Somehow, my face and cheeks look hollow, matching those eyes that don’t have a swagger. I am stuck looking into eyes that see things differently, I could compare them to an old man… tired and drawn, ready for a break from his burden. Not only is the fire out of them, it seems like the fire was out so long ago there isn’t even smoke or an ember left. They look hollow… just hollow… they don’t look like me. In fact, not too much is me anymore. I have changed. I am not who I was on the reverse side of that car wreck. I know what I was, I catch fleeting glimpses of him sometimes. Sometimes. I do wonder what I have become… it’s a mixture of things, duality or even better plurality of persona. To decipher my evolution would take all the time in the world, or for me… just a glance in the mirror.

Keeping Up Published on August 24, 2009 my mouth sores have returned as they usually do this stage of my chemo when I am sick. Ugh, they are annoying. I never thought I would have to struggle to eat… not because I am not hungry, but because it hurts so bad to just freaking swallow anything. It is terrible.

CHAPTER TWELVE

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As the days go, I look at all that weight I was working so hard to put back on sort of fades away. I am getting bigger, stronger, in better shape… but it’s timely and setbacks stink. I did wrestle Friday. I rolled around a bit with my father and made it about 15 minutes, quite winded. I still haven’t forgotten anything, and apparently I still have some sort of “wrestling strength”, which is a sort of leverage/positioning/grip strength that can’t be measured by machines or weights. I am certain it isn’t what it was, but at least it’s a start. Hopefully, in time, I can get everything back. I liked being big and thick and strong. I am still pretty shredded and ripped, but I am not as stout as I was. It is encouraging to see some of my clothes start to fit again. I think I am at a 24-inch waist, so my pants don’t fit the way they used to. They basically fall off. I always had a thin waist, with, I guess, a ghetto booty for lack of a better term. I never thought I did, but apparently I did because I used to wear 30-32 and they would fit nicely on my hips. I never could find pants that would fit up near my waist and around my butt and legs, so I made the compromise and it worked… until I lost my bulk. My hair is back and thickening up more and more. I am a blond now, which is pretty goofy looking. I guess it is in its gawky stages, but I don’t have the heart to shave it off… I want hair because I don’t want to look sick anymore. I want to look like me… hair is a good start… a physique would be a nice follow-up. Well, it is late and my computer is dying. Vi Viri Veniversum Vivus Vici

Lots Of News… Scans, My Great Luck, And A Tribute To Big Zeus

Published on August 28, 2009 I had my scans done on Tuesday, and got the results back. My pneumonia cleared up and my CT and PET scans are, at worst, stable. What stable means is some things

shrunk, some stayed the same. I expected that, as most of what is in me is scar tissue. I get to see the results and count the sights of “activity” and the amount of “activity” and I will have a better idea of what is going on. I prayed a lot for this scan because I was told with my pneumonia that it looked like there was growth in my lungs… cancerous growth. That, fortunately, was not the case as the pneumonia latched on to the cancer as well and caused some swelling… I guess that’s a positive… hell, inject the tumors with pneumonia. Whatever works, works. Yesterday I was in the hospital again for something stupid, also dealing with the lungs…wood poisoning. I have been doing some woodworking and was cutting a piece of exotic wood called purple heart (it is actually purple) that is toxic. I knew it was toxic, but it was one of those stupid things I forgot to realize until being reminded. My lungs started feeling uncomfortable and I got tired fast. This fatigue was complemented with a 102.4 fever and a trip to the ER, where a breathing treatment had me fine, yet they wanted to keep me for observation. I hate being observed. Nothing really comes of it. I was observed for a week one time, being poked and prodded and woken up and annoyed, with needles in me and the doctor almost lost his life. I sort of have the hang of this cancer care thing down. I know my body better than the docs and nurses. Furthermore, you try sleeping in one of those beds with a two-inch needle stuck in your chest. You would be irritable too… and don’t say you wouldn’t… being fine in a hospital for a week I bet Ghandi would throw a punch. I bit my lip, though, and did not sleep last night. I started getting withdrawals from the pain medication I was trying to get off that I went back on for the pneumonia that I am trying to get off again.

CHAPTER TWELVE Withdrawals are hell. I can normally feel them coming on and it is easy… take a pill, drink some water, life is good. In a hospital, they ask you a pain level. I should lie, but nurses don’t understand what the heck withdrawals are. At 4am, they won’t give you anything to sleep or to get rid of the shakes and tingles and the hot/cold feeling that comes with a temperature of exactly 99.5 and the achiness. Withdrawal is comparable to a Tuesday in Hell. Come 8am, I was miserable, uncomfortable, and getting downright pissed. Luckily the doctor gave in and gave me some of the meds, which stopped the withdrawals. They pulled the thing out of my chest, and after sitting there for seemingly ever, we were out at about noon. I was home free… but not really. Apparently, the dogs got into a skunk which sprayed everything. So, the house smells like skunk… after Vulcan rubbed all over everything. The smell is so strong I have a migraine headache and just want to smell fresh air. What can you do, some things just are put in your way to annoy you. Speaking of the dogs, a not-so-big Zeus opened his big eyes to the big world 10 years ago today. Okay, I know he didn’t actually open his eyes until a week after, but I am claiming poetic license. Anyways, the big guy made it to double digits, barring disaster in the next 38 minutes. I have party hats and a cake. Zeus has been the most loyal friend anyone could ask for. He always had an uncanny sense for when people were sick, when people were sad, and he always did everything in his power to help. In his older years, he is no longer the mobile, powerful dog that he once was, but with health issues and everything he faced as a young pup, he was only supposed to be half his size and live to around five. In fact, after my surgery, he and I will

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share the same surgical scar. I guess we will match. He has been a true and loyal friend and despite smelling of skunk, he is truly loved and will be truly missed. Obviously a dog is man’s best friend. A dog cannot talk.

chapter thirteen

Vacation Take Two Published on September 4, 2009 I am back up in northern NJ with the girlfriend, trying to get a second chance at a vacation in. I feel much better this time because there is no pneumonia or anything else involved. The drive up was a living hell after Neupogen and the whatnot. In fact, it felt like jack hammering my tailbone for seven hours. Excruciating… just excruciating. However, with rest and TLC I am feeling and doing much better. Hopefully it lasts through the weekend and I can get the break I need. The Sports Illustrated article is out on their website. I was lied to and told it would be in the magazine, but whatever, it is there if you want to check it out. I could basically care less either way after being told one thing and given second fiddle. Being in the magazine is permanent, the website is a joke. The story is good, but it’s a joke and that’s about as much as I will go into that. I just don’t like being lied to.

Holiday Published on September 10, 2009 my blood was low yesterday and we all

decided that it would be best to give me a holiday from chemo. I get biopsied and whatever next week sometime so the doctor figured it would be better to take a week off, let the body recover, and then get a good sample. I couldn’t have been happier. I was able to get on the mat yesterday, golf today, and go out. So, I am feeling good… especially after my two units of blood that I got today. I should keep feeling better and better. I enjoy feeling better, it makes me feel almost like a real human being. As for the cancer, my number is dropping, meaning it is dying and life is merry. Let’s just keep up the prayers that it is onwards and upwards. Onwards and upwards.

Creative And Original Titles Are Hard Published on September 16, 2009 I got a Neupogen shot on Thursday, and the doctor gave me way too much. I hardly made it through the Steelers game before balling up in pain. It had me bedridden for two days, and near tears. I really do not think you all understand how painful these shots truly are. Drill

Danielle Kover adam’s girlfriend I actually met Adam through reading his blog. I come from a tightknit wrestling family in New Jersey and my Dad always read Adam’s blog; he introduced me to it one day. I followed it for months and found Adam to be very interesting so I ‘friend requested’ him on Facebook. When he responded we then started talking online and ended up having these long in-depth conversations. I thought he was just a great guy. In early summer of 2009 he came up with idea of me flying out to Pittsburgh so we could meet each other. At first, I was a little reluctant because I didn’t really know Adam, but I thought he seemed quite amazing that I said to myself, “What the hell, I’ll go and see how it is.” We ended up having a lot of fun. I remember going golfing together – I had never golfed before – and he tried to teach me some technique but mostly he poked fun at me. He was never mean; it was all in good fun. I found Adam to be a real breath of fresh air, an amazing person, so strong and so sweet. I had never met anyone like Adam before. Later in the summer Adam came to visit me in New Jersey. He stayed with me for a couple days and he really wanted to go to the beach. I didn’t want to hold him back from anything he wanted to do even though I wasn’t sure that going to the beach was the best thing for Adam at the time. I felt that I wanted to show Adam as much of a good time as possible. He had done that for me when I visited Pittsburgh. So off we went to see the ocean.

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Adam and Danielle at the beach in Sea Bright, New Jersey in August, 2009.

We sat in a lot of traffic on the way and by the time we got to the water Adam wasn’t feeling so good. We did take a very nice walk on the beach, I’ll never forget it, just talking and looking out at the waves. After about a half hour he started feeling worse, so we ended up driving back home. When I think about it now it makes me happy that he got to see the ocean. It was very soothing for him. I adored Adam – for the person that he was, for all that he taught me. I was really affected by him. He changed my life.

162 Koll ADAMCornell FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Rob wrestling coach It was always something with Adam as far as getting himself into the most ridiculous binds that were not always his own fault. There was the day he and [assistant coach] Cory Cooperman met at the mall. It was the day before a match and we worked Adam real hard at practice. We even brought him back a little later and we came in just to work out with him again to help him make weight. We got him down to weight – really close anyway. After the workout we asked him, ‘Adam, what are you going to do tonight?’ He told us, ‘I’m going home, going to have a little salad, a little water, just relax and sleep.’ A little while later Cory goes over to the mall and he sees Adam, who is now holding this 32-ounce giant milk shake at the food court. Of course, he also has a pack of fries and a humongous Slurpee on his tray. So Cory, standing about 20 yards behind Adam, decides to call him on his cell phone. ‘Hey Adam, what are you doing?’ Adam goes, ‘Oh, I’m taking it easy; just relaxing, sipping a little water.’ Then Cory broke the news to him – ‘Adam, turn around. I’m standing just a few yards behind you.’ There were a few ‘oops’ and ‘sorrys’ coming from Adam – but he did make weight the next day, thankfully. I remember another time when Adam and his dog went to the sports school office to visit the girl he was dating. They walk in to see her in this tiny office that five people share. Now the dog not only has a bad case of fleas, but the dog was also very sick. The dog

proceeds to poop all over the office. It was a really bad mess and everyone was really upset with this damn dog. The end result is the dog gives Adam flea bites all over his body and helps him lose his girlfriend. Everyone knows that politically Adam had a conservative attitude. There were times he’d come in to my office and sit down and be so upset. He’d get into these arguments with these ultraliberal professors that Cornell has in abundance. I’d ask Adam, ‘Why must you continually shoot yourself in the foot? Why poke that tiger in the cage? The tiger controls your grade.’ He’d just say, ‘I have to.’ He wanted to be president. He certainly wasn’t intolerant but he would get so frustrated that he’d argue an issue to the point of where it started to hurt him. He loved to debate and even if he didn’t feel all that strongly about an issue, he’d do it at times just to play Devil’s Advocate.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN a hole in every one of your bones and stick a firecracker in it. That is how I felt this weekend. I hoped to go out and be a 23-year-old, but nope. Sometimes I wish I could take a swing at doctors. My immune system is twice what a normal person’s is. I really could care less after the pain, though. After over a year, the pain does begin to chip away at anyone’s foundation. It is hard, just so darn hard to smile through pain every day. If you don’t feel good, if you are hurting, just got to put on that fake for everyone else. I am starting to hate putting on that fake. It is hard. The reason I got that shot was to be able to get a more invasive biopsy this week. The reason I skipped chemo was to get this biopsy. Everyone is piddling about this stupid biopsy and it probably will not happen, putting me behind in my next treatment. Okay, I really hate this. I make progress, start turning the corner, and the doctors just wait. I would love to go from one to another to another… no, it’s a go, make progress, sit there and have organs fail before we start you on something else. It is bull&*% to me. It is my life. If there was not such a delay between treatments, I would probably be fine… so, yeah, like I wish they would hurry up. I wish they would kick cancer while it is down, not give me shots that kick me while I am down. Would be nice. Other than that, it is life as usual. My back is finally starting to not bug me after that damned shot and I hopefully can have a nice five days before stepping back into the chemical inferno on Monday. Sometimes, you just have to push forward.

Quick Update (written By Cindy Frey)

Published on September 29, 2009 It is Tuesday afternoon and I just wanted to send an update out to everyone. It seems

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that the cancer in Adam’s liver is on the move again. He is back on all the pain meds and sleeps about 19-20 hours a day. He is eating very little. He is scheduled to start chemo again on Friday. We are not sure if they will continue on with the last treatment or move to a new one. He cannot wait much longer – we will just have to cross the next bridge when we come to it. He knows that the chemo will help to remove the swelling in his liver which, in turn, will help him to breathe better and move around move. I will update everyone again soon.

Sorry So Long

Published on October 12, 2009 I apologize for being unable to get on here for the last month, but things have gotten hard and hard fast. I have been virtually bedridden and have not been on, near, or around a computer. My life seriously almost revolves around four-hour increments when I can take pain pills and catch a bit of rest before it hits me again. It has just been a very, very tough time. To even be able to think of writing a blog… or to even think. The new chemo is probably the most hellacious thing I have ever done. I was, for a while, holding water and it causes extreme bloating, which has my stomach looking black and blue and pregnant. On top of that, the atrophy of being in bed has really done a job on my neck and reconstructed shoulder, as they ache persistently. The battle is for comfort, it seems. I have a hard time eating, hard time drinking, and a hard time even walking. I guess it is just a hard time. There are a few things that keep me driving – my love for my family and friends, and I guess sheer determination and faith that I will be delivered. I also got a positive boost from my blood results that showed a huge drop in tumor marker in just four days. My

Jerry Frey adam’s father When Adam returned to the Cornell wrestling room for his second year of competition, he wanted to wrestle at 157. However, Jordan Leen was at that weight and the coaches wouldn’t let Adam wrestle-off with Jordan. Adam did not want to cut any more weight. He hated cutting the weight and it was a lot. Think about it – he was around 175 before he went into chemo. That’s a lot to cut down to 141. Adam missing weight at the NCAAs and for the Hofstra match really bothered him. It also bothered him that his teammates and coaches were on his case. Adam told me one day, ‘I hate these guys. All they do is rip on me about not making weight and tell me that I am out of shape. Dad, I work harder than anybody in this room.’ It got to the point where he wasn’t enjoying wrestling the way he use to because all he was doing was trying to make weight and he couldn’t make weight because [unbeknownst to anyone at the time] the cancer was growing bigger and bigger and bigger. He had that cancer for quite a while. Everybody thought he was out of shape – the fact is that when Adam was working out, the tumors would swell up and cut off the circulation to his legs. He could not explain it. When he was relaxed or running on a treadmill, he could run for an hour. But when his adrenalin started to flow, the cancers would swell up and he’d become exhausted.

marker went from 117k to 25k, the 25 being a number I have not seen since spring. It was a virtual free-fall and I, for some reason, just have faith that God finally said enough and is taking it away. I really believe that this new drug (which could have been what I got the first time in the first cycle) has an effect and will rid me of this. I find out my new marker today, and I am hoping that it is lower yet. Progress builds hope, I guess. Hope builds will, and will gets people through things.

Better And Better

Published on October 22, 2009 With the help of the water pill and the cane I am using as my Halloween prop, I can finally walk without pain. I can even get up and down the stairs a little bit easier. Of course, I can walk stiffly without a cane, but it helps. I am eating and I feel much better. I had scans yesterday that showed clear lungs and no real damage to those lungs. So, that’s a positive. My count has dropped drastically again and is at 50k. I don’t want to jinx it, so hopes and prayers, please. Other than that, I have been feeling better. I sleep a great bit, think about stuff and things when I am not sleeping and lying in bed, and some TV basically fills out my day. I think rest may be the best thing for me at this time, but I have no muscle left and am basically a shrimp, though my number is going down and things are looking up. I guess I have time to get everything back… take care of cancer first.

Something Else

Published on October 31, 2009 I guess it is Happy Halloween. I remember spending the last one getting a tube stuck through my chest into my heart. I got to play Dracula… who I may add was a real person,

CHAPTER THIRTEEN did have a castle, and was one and the same as Vlad the Impaler. He must have been a pretty bad-assed dude to be both Dracula and Vlad the Impaler. I need a nickname like Vlad the Impaler. How about… Adam the Impaled. Makes sense being stuck with needles all the time. Has a ring to it. Enough about that. I am not talking about cancer for this post. It is what it is and the quick update is that it is dying at a rapid rate (knock on wood) and things finally look up. That’s about it with cancer. As for me, my now 5-6, 120-pound frame is going to go to physical therapy to start building some mass. Being bedridden for so long has me very gaunt. I guess 50 pounds of muscle is a noticeable amount. I baffle people when I tell them or show them pictures of my bodybuilding shots when I was a nice 165-175. I really am excited, though, to start it up and start doing something. To see progress… to progress, that is always wonderful... progression. I am at a spot where I can progress. So, physically, let’s just say that I am rehabbing from a full-body injury twice a week to start, then hopefully more as time allows. But enough about that. Let’s talk about something I don’t think I ever really hit on with people I don’t mention much and emotions that are descriptive in so many ways. Today, I am going to talk about love. Its actions, its feel, its discourse. In my experience, love is the most difficult word in the universal language of human existence we have. Love is defined in the dictionary as: a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend… Well, let’s dissect this definition and see if it goes with my own definition. Warmth means many things. Hell is warm, but hell is hell. Of course, love can be hell, can it not be? It can be a burning desire that consumes someone and makes their life a partial hell. So, warmth is ambiguous, but let’s all agree that it is that

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little warmth and butterfly feeling in the heart and stomach. The next term that jumps at me is “deep affection.” Deep affection… now that is something that we should delve into. The dictionary defines it as an attachment or love. Wow, two words defined as each other. I guess we didn’t get much of anywhere did we? A good friend always tells me that if it’s meant to be known, it’s in the Bible. Love is in the Bible, and God is so good, and He felt love is so important that he gave us his definition of love, which I have provided to save some searching through that text. Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. – I Corinthians 13 4-7 No matter what belief you share, I think this definition is the closest thing to describing this word. Through my battle with cancer and my search for self, there are people who define this exact definition; however, they fit in such contrasting ways that similarities between them are evident, yet unfathomable. Irony is God’s sense of humor, and I am sure heaven roars with laughter. My mother loves me. She fits the definition of love and the seven-figure number of people who read my blog regularly must obviously see what could even stretch farther than a “mother’s love.” Patient is sitting for hours upon hours in a little chair doing needlepoint watching her son sleep in a bed getting chemo. Love is patient. Love is kind. Kind is responding to every beck and call around the clock. Kind is the articulation of words that makes you want to not take one more step, but 20. Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. Never has that woman boasted about how she has taken care of her son. Her son should probably boast more about how great she has been.

166 ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES Jordan Leen wrestling teammate and ncaa champion ThERE was a time that I got to see inside Adam in a way that I hadn’t done before. When Adam missed making weight at 141 for the Hofstra match the team felt that if he missed making weight again, they could no longer take a chance on him and we’d have to look for a new 141-pounder. At the National Duals he wrestled at 149 and he was pinned in all his matches. The weight issue played a part in that scenario since over that weekend he was on his way back down to 141 to recertify. I recall him weighing in at something like 144 at the Duals and having to wrestle 149. Adam did not wrestle a competitive match between the National Duals in mid-January and the Easterns in early March. During that time period in January and February, when Adam wasn’t competing, as a team we drafted up a contract just for Adam. The contract said that he had to make weight with us as we competed, but he didn’t get the privilege of competing. It was a progressive weight-making contract; like for the first weekend he’d have to make ‘eight over’, the next weekend ‘six over’, filtering it down to where he was making solid, healthy progress with his weight. Our idea was that by this healthier way of managing his weight, by the time for Easterns he wouldn’t be struggling so much with his conditioning at the end of matches. We attributed a lot of his fatigue and exhaustion to his crash course-type of weight cuts. I think he knew that it could have been done in a more healthy manner. So, although this contract sounded very strict and like a group of guys coming down on him – it may have been that a little bit – I think

he eventually did see the good heart of the deal. He and I got to sit down and talk about it a lot. The team as a group really cared about him. We knew how much wrestling meant to him – I believe he loved wrestling more than anyone on the team – so we wanted to see him succeed in a way that wasn’t so destructive on his body. The contract had weigh-in and workout requirements. He’d have to be present and working out with the team during the team practice so many days a week. He’d have to be doing individual cardio workouts on his own. My job as the team captain was to monitor those workouts, which were three times a week. So he had a list of consistent workout requirements that he had to be held accountable for as well as the weights he had to make. What we all worked through together – the team and Adam alike – was like, ‘Adam, if you are able to do this, then you’re going to be as prepared as you can possibly be to reach your potential.’ And Adam’s potential was to win a National title. The guy was unbelievably gifted. The contract took a lot of the anxiety off of the coaching staff and off our team. The intent was to no longer question ‘Is he going to make weight? Is he going to be able to compete? Is he going to be able to withstand all three periods of wrestling?’ It took all that anxiety out and laid in some consistency to his training lifestyle and his weight-monitoring process. We were all pretty excited about this. None of us, including Adam, were very excited about the possibility that he might miss one of these things. The

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Jordan Leen’s proudest moment... winning the 2008 NCAA title at 157 pounds. Danielle Hobeika

contract was signed and there was no going back on it. It ends up that he never missed. Our trainer monitored his weight and Adam met all the requirements. I monitored his early morning 45-minute cardio workouts three mornings a week. He was working his way down to 141. That’s where he and I got a bit closer. It was a time when I became available to a guy who had a lot going on in his heart, a lot going on in his soul, a lot going on in

his mind about his relationships with his coaches, his teammates, his family. Those were my most memorable times with Adam. We’d talk about a lot of things – training, God, school, girls, his family, and the stuff going on in his head. When I say ‘we talked’, Adam did a lot of the talking. I really wouldn’t have had it any other way. It almost became a therapeutic time for both of us – me learning how to listen well and him having someone to talk to.

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ADAM FREY: A COLLECTION OF BLOGS & STORIES

No, she goes about it as she goes about it. As we sum up the rest of the definition for the sake of time, my mother hopes for my health, she never angers… even though I do. I have watched her endure without irritation, as I do irritate. Somehow, she is able to hide it away, at least from me. Selfless and steadfast. She loves me, and I love her for that and all that she has done. I am obviously single right now, given the situation and the difficulty. It’s personal, her choice, and I won’t get into it. I did meet a girl when this all started. We were never really together, it never seemed to be the right time, or way, or situation. I remember tears pouring out of icy blue eyes when it came back. One look and I knew she fit the definition. I promised I would beat it, she said she would be there the whole time… she kept her word. I hope I can keep mine. Through the steroid rages and the pain and the events of the last 18 months, she has kept her word. Silently, unselfishly, not boasting, not envious, but kindly and patiently hoping. Life is funny, because here I am, and I do feel the same way… of course I don’t come close to reciprocating how awesome she is. She wants the best for me, even if it isn’t maybe what I want. Not many people have the nerve to say what I need to hear, yet she never hesitates to say it, even though I maybe at the time do not need to see it. Maybe God put her in my life for a reason… I know tears will pour in heaven if somehow I end up looking down and seeing her tears again… it can’t happen, that wouldn’t be paradise, would it? I guess in reciprocation, I know what I love and want to hold on to, and I don’t care so much what anyone would think or say about it. When it comes to relationships, I have been hammered and burnt… that’s life I guess. It is stupidity not to look at reciprocating feelings and try something out. Least that is how I feel, but time and place… For everyone else, maybe this post regis-

ters, maybe it doesn’t… as for my mom, I love you with all my heart. And as for you, and you know who you are, my sincerest thank you for everything you have done.

Adversity

Published on November 16, 2009 Garrett won his tournament this weekend, which is a big accomplishment because it was his first real taste of college competition. He looks to be doing okay. He has been dealing with the whole ordeal admirably and positively. I really don’t know if I am. I wish I could be less angry at the “situation” that involves the other half of my genetic code, but I guess I am the one who it eats at the most. I know it eats at my mom, too, but it’s adversity. I guess we will fight through, that’s the only option… fight through, suck it up, and be mentally tough. Physical therapy is getting better and seemingly starting to show results. I no longer walk hunched over and apparently look much better. Strength-wise, I have improved dramatically. I can do full squats on a halfball, jump rope, do 40 push-ups and even throw in a few pull-ups if I focus. That is a large improvement as I am putting on a lot of size and trying to gain flexibility as well. I feel on the up and up basically everywhere. I can feel tumors nowhere. So, health-wise, it’s great. The funny part of this week was when a kindly old lady sitting across me at chemo mentioned how nice MY WIFE was in this situation. So either my mother looks 25 years old or I look 51. It gets better. The kindly old nun, as we found out, taught my mom in HIGH SCHOOL. My ego being collateral, I felt so old. My mom smiled at the compliment, though, so I guess I’ll take one for the team. Kris is over as his grandfather is recovering from a pretty serious surgery, so it’s more

Jordan LeenCHAPTER cornell teammate adversity since I am close to Kris’s grandparents. As we welcomed Kris into our family, they welcomed me as a surrogate grandson. So, hopefully prayers and love along with his patented stubbornness will pull him through. This next week is my proverbial “hell week” of five long infusions, putting me at Hillman every day. The long weeks are a real test of mental, physical and emotional toughness and needless to say, it is very hard. I have not been sleeping too well – hopefully that will change and life will be comfortable. Hopefully, life outside of chemo and the sickness will be comfortable. It is working, so that is all we can ask.

Monday Mornings

Published on November 25, 2009 Some days, or sometimes, I feel compelled or obligated to dim the lights and explain things as they actually are. This is one of those days. I am through my third long week and making what has been called a “miracle recovery.” Since Halloween I have gained 25 pounds. My Hcg numbers have continued to drop, and the tumors, bumps, pains, and effects from my cancer have melted by the wayside. I am down to a few weeks left. It is all great news and all seems by the grace of God to look up and well. I feel this is coming to pass. Every Monday, most suit up for school, work, life. I wake up and prepare. It is a chemo day, more importantly, a blood work day. In a short time my doctor will come in with the blood levels, chemistries and one line on one piece of paper… my tumor marker. The marker is simple… it goes down, then I get a week reprieve until the next Monday and more chemo… if it goes up, things, situations, and scenarios change. Every Monday, suited in pajamas, I set down in a room. Let’s withdraw from reality

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At the Easterns I can’t remember why, but something happened so that what I considered the two best guys (Frey and Corey Jantzen) at 141 wrestled each other in an early round. It made for one of the most entertaining, high profile, big-gun match-ups you could ever want. Jantzen is another one who has unique talents – as a senior in high school he beat Chris Fleeger when Fleeger was a 25-year-old man on our Cornell coaching staff. So, here were two gifted, dynamic, very explosive guys who had been on the very top echelon of whatever level they had ever competed at – going against each other in an early round of the Easterns. It was a bigger match than any of the other ones at the Easterns that afternoon. The two really went after each other. Unfortunately, Jantzen wound up the winner, but Adam came back through the consolations to place third and earn his trip to the Nationals.

Garrett Frey adam’s brother I don’t think Adam wrestled a good match at all that day. He was really sloppy. That wasn’t one of his better matches. I hadn’t seen him wrestle all year and I was up in the stands, shocked to see him perform as he did. I would never have guessed that he’d lose to Jantzen. No disrespect to Jantzen, but I’m going to cheer for my brother every time. That’s when I stood there and said, ‘What are you doing? How is this happening? Something is wrong.’

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and imagine this as a scene. Every Monday I sit at a table and look cancer in the eye. The adversary. In Ancient Hebrew, adversary is pronounced Satan. Every Monday, I see two faces clash. On my side, I see I am armed with God’s armor: Faith and Truth and Love and Hope and Salvation. I am empowered by those pulling me in prayer. I am armed with technology and doctors. I see my force clearly every Monday. Every Monday, suited in pajamas, I sit down and look the adversary in the eye. He has his weapons and forces, too. Demons of doubt and destruction flank his sides, locked with my flanks of friends and faith. His attacks have involved physical assaults as well as emotional attacks. The adversary uses all to strike at the very heart of mind, body, and will. Casualties around me have fallen to this adversary. I do see those who gave up hope, who abandoned, who in one way or another could not deal with this demon. Locked eye to eye at a table on Monday mornings my periphery sees sickly sad sorrows of surrounding sentinels suffocated by Satan’s sanctities… but that is not all. My periphery views many multitudes marching by prayer, love, and faith, from people and places spanning corners and connections are corps by my side with constant a cancer constricting combination of support giving courage and comfort in even my hardest times of concern. Strike for strike, blow for blow, my adversary and I clash, both armed with everything from stubbornness to salvation to sickness. I have learned one thing through this battle... My Heavenly Father has placed the personnel in the perfect place at the perfect times for me to persevere. He has yet to let me down. I have been close many times. I have seen unbearable changes in me in physical and emotional realms thought this struggle, but he has helped me preserve for 18 months,

past when I was supposed to leave a flag of surrender. A fact of life is that we will all pass. I feel confident saying I have much time left. I know he will never let me down. Well it is Friday, the weekend is forthcoming. I hope to see you all in my periphery Monday morning. Bring a war face; no, in fact, bring a smile

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Adam’s final competitive wrestling matches were at the NCAA championships in St. Louis on March 20 and 21, 2008. He beat Ettelson of Northern Iowa 17-1, but was pinned by Nathan Morgan of Oklahoma State in the second round. He came back to pin Lindsey of Ohio University in just 22 seconds before losing his last bout to Garrett Scott.

Jeff Buxton blair wrestling coach It’s pretty amazing that the guy is wrestling in the NCAA tournament, and winning two matches, with a 12-pound tumor in his body. He’s in the All-American round-up against Garrett Scott, beating him convincingly early on and then all of a sudden just goes limp. Later on I am sitting with him up in the suites and ask him what happened. He said, ‘I just lost my legs.’ I ask, ‘Adam, did you cut weight improperly?’ I was hard on him. A few weeks later when I learned about his cancerous tumors, with everything I could muster, I apologized to him. The one thing he always wanted to be was an NCAA champion. I believe that was the thing that kept him going the most as he was enduring the chemo treatments. He wanted to show everybody that he could come back and wrestle the caliber of an NCAA champion.

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Chapter fourteen

Figuring It Out

Published on December 6, 2009 I am getting over a touch of the flu, which is, as figured, a longer and more ridiculous process than a normal person getting over the flu. My number is back dropping again at a decently rapid place, so apparently the chemo is back to working again… or maybe my body finally realized that something is wrong… I have no idea. We are scheduled to go to Arizona not this Monday, but the next. I have to get my blood up and my kidney function up and ready for the trip. Of course, a week break from chemo at this point is not the worst thing for me. I’ve been pretty dehydrated recently as my chemistries and blood work shows. I guess throwing up for three days dehydrates you… well, common sense says it is. So, Friday was a five-hour day of getting re-hydrated and a ct scan to see where everything is at and how it has progressed. I am in the process of getting back on a wrestling mat again, this time to coach at a local high school and hopefully shine some type of light on the young men in the mat room. It is a good opportunity for me to just get back to doing certain things that are pro-

ductive. I am excited and hoping I am strong enough to contribute a good deal. We had a pilot test of the radio show go up online today for the public to check out. It is not the highly anticipated first episode, which should be out Friday of next week. This pilot episode or trial run is half the time that a normal show is, and features basically just banter and a practice run of getting “the flow” or the chemistry between everyone. The real show will have a couple pre-recorded interviews as well as be shown live. So, I guess tune in and maybe most of you can finally at least put a voice to the name. Other than that, things are the same as they usually are… a lot of sitting and recovering, not much too interesting going on. Of course, the whole divorce situation is stressful, to say the least. The house is much less stressful, but the combination of my father and his girlfriend are very stress on myself and my brother. I guess we can revert back to the original title of the post and figure it out in time. I guess time heals wounds, but wounds leave nasty scars, though hopefully in time it will scab and scar and heal to where it leaves just a discolorment or a mark. I surely won’t be able

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Kris Kersey adam’s lifelong friend One of my last interactions with Adam was in the hospital and he was having trouble breathing. After some discussion, they put him on a ventilator. I was there with Adam’s pastor and Adam starts to flail his arms and legs around pretty intensely. I went out to tell the nurse what was going on and suggested that she sedate him a little bit more. I go back in the room with the nurse and tell Adam, ‘Okay, calm down, relax, let the machine do the work for you.’ I could see that he’s trying to tell me something so I go get a pen and a piece of paper. He scribbled something down but we really couldn’t read it. I said, ‘Hey, buddy, you’re going to have to write a little bit clearer.’ The nurse heard me say this and she goes, ‘He’s not going to be able to write anything. He’s too out of it.’ Adam then turns and looks directly at the nurse. He looks back at the paper and writes about five words – perfectly, with an exclamation point. And he throws the pen right at the nurse, as if to say, ‘don’t try to tell me what I can and cannot do.’ That was Adam.

to forget what has happened in the recent past, but it is much better for my mother, brother, and I. Lastly, and I hope I do not offend anyone, but please refrain from sending me emails about people who died from cancer. I feel bad, I honestly do, but nothing takes the wind out of my sails more than a comment or an email that talks about someone who is so much like me and died. I happen to be facing that situation and try to manage it in as positive a way as I can. It makes my heart sink, makes my mother’s heart sink, and just puts and leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I am sympathetic, I truly am, but please try to refrain from bringing up the “death stories” as I have nicknamed them. They leave nothing but a heavy, weighty feeling on me. Thank You, God Bless, Adam Frey Today people want to talk about their rights and their privileges. People 30 years ago talked about their responsibilities and obligations. – Lou Holtz EDITOR’S NOTE: That was the final blog that Adam wrote.

ICU

Published on December 20, 2009 It is 12:15 am Sunday morning. This is the first time in days that I have been able to send a quick post. Adam has been in the hospital since last Friday and was moved to the ICU unit at Shady Side Hospital on Friday morning with breathing problems. He has had two medical procedures and also was operated on to remove water that had gathered around his heart. He has been in the CICU Unit since Friday afternoon. He is on a ventilator and is heavily sedated. He is very weak; he uses hand gestures when asked questions to answer yes or no. It is hour by hour so please keep him in your prayers. Adam asked how he was doing and

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Kris Kersey adam’s lifelong friend During his final days, when he was on the ventilator, Adam and I would be talking and he’d tell me, ‘I feel good about this; I feel calm. I feel like the hand of the Lord is on me.’ Adam never lost his faith. To me, that was the most impressive thing of all about Adam. When I think of Adam and the friendship and brotherhood we really had, the thing that I remember the most was how strong his faith was. I was there when Adam actually passed away. He had such determination. The doctor told us it would be only a matter of minutes once they started turning down the ventilator. The realization really hit us, yet Adam ended up being fully off the ventilator for almost 45 minutes. Adam never stopped fighting.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN his nurse explained to him what was going on with him; he understood that he needs to let the ventilator work and he was able to close his eyes and follow her instructions to bring his breathing back to where it needed to be. Good night – Cindy.

Train Ride Thru Hell

Published on December 21, 2009 First, thank you for your prayers. Please do not stop. It is another Monday morning and I am not the writer that Adam is but I will try to give an update as to where he is at in the Train Ride thru Hell. Starting last Thursday evening, Adam’s breathing had gotten worse. The night doctor felt that it was better that he be moved to the ICU unit where he would have one-on-one care. So by 7am he was is a new room. By 8am he had agreed to be on a ventilator. He asked Kris if it was worth his time to do this and Kris said yes. I was on my way to get Garrett during all of this so our Pastor Terry and Kris were with him, only leaving him when asked to and then only a few feet away. I knew he was in the best hands. I received updates from both of these several times an hour. Next came a bronchial test to sample the type of infection they are dealing with. They also wanted to do a lung biopsy – however, he was not breathing in the OR so they were unable to get that part done. Off to CICU for round-the-clock care and heavy sedation. They have changed the meds to help with the swelling he is having. Adam is currently getting kidney dialysis – since yesterday at about 11am. He has a feeding tube. He said he was hungry and wanted pancakes. The ventilator has been adjusted down and the hope is that a setting called PEEPS will be knocked down. He is getting insulin shots. Lots of pain meds and sleeping injections. When he wakes up

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he wants to know how he is doing, is following directions, and doing everything that is asked of him. He had several visitors yesterday and was very happy to see them when he was awake. As of this morning his platelets are low but his creative kidney level has dropped a bit – that is good. He has no fever and he is having the breathing tube suctions more to get the phlegm out of his chest. He is requiring more meds to stay clam because he feels like he is choking when he coughs. He is sleeping now and I am waiting for the line of doctors to come thru to update me on what they want to do next. Talk to everyone soon. Cindy. For to us a Child is born and he will be called Emmanuel.

Adam Wesley Frey: 1986-2009

Published on December 26, 2009 True to his word, Adam went down swinging. Twenty-one months after his car crash in March of ’08. Adam passed at 2:21pm, December 26, 2009. In lieu of flowers Adam would want you to donate to the Adam Frey Foundation. He wanted to help others with their difficult battle with cancer. Thank you for all of your support and prayers in recent months. We hope that in spite of all this Adam still brings the same joy and inspiration to everyone that he always has. Thanks to everyone and God bless. I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. – Phillippians 4:13

Cornell wrestling coach Rob Koll comforts Cindy Frey at a dedication ceremony in honor of Adam in January, 2010. Cornell University

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A story of the suffering, and the courage, of an extraordinary young man... Adam Frey was a gifted college student and a skilled wrestler when a car crash changed his life in March, 2008. Miraculously, Adam walked away from the wreck of his car... but during a hospital check-up it was discovered he had Stage III cancer. As he embarked on 21 months of treatments, Adam began writing a remarkable blog that became a daily inspiration to thousands, and won him fans around the world. This is Adam’s story – intertwined with first-hand tales from his life, told by those closest to him. “When Adam went on his recruiting visit to Northwestern, he stayed with Jake Herbert, an old Pennsylvania wrestling friend. During the visit Jake mentioned that he held the record amongst the wrestlers at Northwestern for the most pull-ups – 55. “Adam asked Jake, ‘Can anybody go for that record?’ and Jake said, ‘Yeah.’ Adam got on the bar and did 75. Adam told me later, ‘I probably could have done about 10 more, dad, but I could see they were getting irritated.’” – JERRY FREY, Adam’s father adam’s Blog of July 3, 2009 On Monday, I was told my liver was at failure levels three weeks prior. My liver was failing and I was pretty much screwed. The pain of such a thing is terrible. However I passed my heart test, albeit barely, and started chemo. The chemo is something that is actually supposed to work and kill cancer this time. I have confidence in it. I have seen and felt the change. Just at this stage it is so hard on the body that no one has been able to take the drugs. Something deep inside me just can’t give up.

USA $19.95 Published by Exit Zero Publishing www.exitzero.us All proceeds from the sale of this book go directly to the Adam Frey Foundation, www.AdamFrey.us Book website: www.AdamFreybook.com