My story By Craig Cooper Jan 15, 2003

The hardest thing in a parent's life must be to tell young children that their father is seriously ill and may die.

In April, 1991 Craig Ryan was 12, Mitchell was 10. They had to be told that I had metastasized melanoma and that the prognosis was that I may survive only three months to a year.

That was nearly 12 years ago. Craig Ryan has graduated from college. Mitchell is a junior. Their father is writing this message that he hopes may help others attack and survive melanoma.

It's been so long ago now that I'm not asked about it very often and don't think much about the disease. My wife doesn't think I think enough about what I went through. She reminds me that when I was sick I vowed to take it easier and enjoy life more if I survived. Less work, more play was the theme that has somehow been sidetracked over the years.

My cancer was discovered as a growth on the back of my head. It was removed and tested. Within days I knew a lot about melanoma and knew that statistically, the outlook was no good. Cancer was also found on my adrenal gland, which would indicate that the cancer was invading my organs. We cried of course in the doctor's office when he presented the facts in a highly direct manner. Thinking back, it was the right way to approach the matter by a doctor who I have great respect for. It was that same doctor who referred me to Dr. Jeffrey Sosman, a respected cancer researcher who was in Chicago at the time.

The treatment mentioned was not the traditional surgery-chemo route that no one we talked to seemed to think was very effective. An experimental treatment Interleukin-2 was suggested and Sosman was involved in a clinical trial using high doses of the highly toxic chemical that is produced by the body. These days I would probably be a candidate for a vaccine trial. At times the treatment seemed much worse than the disease itself. The high dosages of IL-2 required long stays in intensive care 180 miles away from home. The treatment's known side effects are flu-like symptoms, fever, insomnia. I had them all. And the worst chills you can imagine. Thank science for Demerol.

But after the first round of treatment a checkup showed that the adrenal tumor had shrunk by more than 80 percent. A year later when a surgeon decided to remove the adrenal gland, I'm told there was nothing resembling an adrenal gland. It was a mass of tissue that had been destroyed by the IL-2. There have been no setbacks in the 11 years since the surgery a year after diagnosis.

I believe I had a great doctor and got great medical care but I am convinced there is more to this story and other stories of survival.

In that hospital bed in Chicago and at home recovering between rounds of treatment and many nights since I have prayed. I prayed that I would see my sons graduate from high school, see them play their games, take trips with my wife, see Iowa State University win a football bowl game, fish in Minnesota, see autumn in Wisconsin again -- we live in Davenport, Iowa -- and dozens of other goals. I wrote them down and checked them off one by one. I still have the book, but most of the goals have been crossed off. In the past 11 years I've watched a lot of youth, high school and college athletic events my sons have competed in, we've taken numerous trips together, I've spent time with my wife, I've watched the leaves fall. Iowa State won a bowl game and I was there as a newspaper sports reporter. The point is that regardless of what the medical profession believes, I believe in the power of prayer. I have experienced it first hand. I'm not sure Dr. Sosman, who is now at Vanderbilt and is continuing to research melanoma, doesn't believe that belief in a higher power isn't helpful when we face life-and-death crises. I think I've almost convinced his scientific mind that it's possible. There are great mysteries sometimes in survival. I believe a higher power, for whatever reason, is involved.

On the day I learned of my diagnosis, I got down on my knees and prayed. I felt a calmness that everything was going to be fine, regardless of my future. That was the day the fear of cancer and the fear of death left me. Maybe that's why I don't think about the cancer much anymore. I still pray, mostly giving thanks instead of asking for something in my life, but I approach life more fearlessly than ever before.

I don't know why I survived. I haven't done anything special with my survival. I wrote a book and contributed to a couple others. I have talked with a lot of cancer patients who have called for information and reassurance. Maybe that was my role. Or maybe it was just seeing two boys grow into men we are proud of.

Whenever I hear about a celebrity or acquaintance dying of the same thing I have survived there is some survivor guilt. Why am I still here? I can't answer that.

My advice about this terrible disease is to find the best treatment and medical advice available, go into the process with an open, but determined mind, and never, ever, forget the power of prayer and the will of a human. Once you understand the worst, you can fight the best fight. This horrible cancer is survivable.

Craig Cooper is a business reporter for the Quad-City Times in Davenport, Iowa. He has talked with numerous melanoma patients and patients of other cancers over the past 12 years about his own ordeal and is always available. His numbers at work are 800-437-4641 and 563-383-2360. His e-mail is ccooper@qctimes.com