“So Mike, where’s your article?” Words that I have been dreading to hear from our newsletter editor, Judge Ed Schoenbaum. So much so that I thought of missing the Mid-Year meeting this year to avoid the conversation. He doesn’t know my mind hasn’t really been in to it for awhile. Not like it was when I practiced law or served two terms as States Attorney of Shelby County. Then twenty years on the bench in the Fourth Circuit. The law was always on my mind and topics for articles were not hard to conceive, but it was taking the time and getting citations right that mattered. That was then. So, I have been retired, going on five years, and things have changed. Sure, I stay in the loop through the occasional mediation I have keeping me in touch with the law, lawyers and litigants, something I have truly enjoyed. “So,” Ed might ask, “why not write an article about that?” Well, as I mentioned, my mind has not really been into it. Here’s why.

In August, 2016, I was preparing to leave for a three-day golf trip at Bob ‘O Link with my big brother, Jim. (More about him later, but everyone who knows Jim Kiley wishes he was their big brother). I was shaving at the mirror and noticed a swollen area under my arm. It was something that had not been there the day before when I had been swimming with my grandson. I thought I better keep an eye on it, but I thought it was probably a bug bite. I went ahead and played in the tournament-- we actually were leading after the first round-- and I played pretty well. Each night I examined the area and so no change. When I returned home, I called my local doctor and got right in to see him. He examined me and said he thought I should have a biopsy and......the details get kind of fuzzy, but I remember all the medical people along the way. How nice, how caring.

I do recall with some clarity the telephone call I received after the biopsy. I had been referred to a surgeon who ordered the biopsy. His nurse called and said the doctor needed to see me the first thing next week to discuss the results. This was a Friday and I thought to myself that this was going to be a long weekend. I asked the nurse if she knew the result. She stammered she was not authorized to tell me. I must have sounded disappointed, or as my friends would say “a little thin-lipped.” In any event, the surgeon called back within a matter of minutes and said, “You have malignant melanoma.” My wife, Ann, was on the other line. She is normally upbeat. This time she let out an audible groan and said “That’s not good.” Short and sweet.

Well I learned a lot about malignant melanoma in the days, weeks and months that followed. This cancer is deadly. It has a very high rate of reoccurring. And, as in my case, when it has spread to the lymph glands, it can travel and show up anywhere.

I had surgery on September 30, 2016. The delay between finding the cancer and having the surgery was the result of discussions about where I should have the surgery. My brother Jim and other members of my family wanted me to consider options at the University of Chicago. I ultimately decided to stay near home and have the surgery in Decatur. The driving thought for me was that I had something in my body that I wanted gone right away. Taking more time to consider other options was not for me. The surgery was a success. So said the doctors, the CT scans, MRI’S and pet scans ( I have lost track of how many, though I am sure my insurance company has not).

After recovering from surgery, I was referred to an Oncologist who, when he met me said “Michael, we are not going to just contain and control this, we are going to cure this. Believe me and keep your spirits up!” I liked him. My family wanted me to seek a second opinion on post-surgery care from a melanoma specialist in Chicago. “Strings were pulled,” as they say, and I was able to meet with the specialist quickly. As it happened, he recommended the same course of treatment as the Oncologist in Decatur. He did suggest that I participate in a clinical trial program that he was in charge of at the University of Chicago. I was pleased to discover that the same program was offered in Decatur and my original Oncologist, the guy I liked, was involved with that program. I became a patient in the clinical trial program and started infusions in November.

The treatment program opened my eyes to the reality of cancer treatment, something I suppose I was aware of but never truly experienced. The persons I saw in the waiting rooms at U of C and Decatur Cancer Care had been devastated. Remember, at this point, I felt, and I think, I looked fine. I saw patients with hollowed eyes, sunken cheeks and looking so far gone, like “what’s the use.”

I remember, in particular at the Cancer Care Center in Decatur, an older man, maybe in his late 70’s, who could barely walk. He looked to me as if he had been successful in life, athletic build, nice clothes, nice haircut, but the vacant look in his eyes was disturbing. He was accompanied by a pretty, vivacious woman who was offering him constant encouragement. His wife, I thought, maybe for 50 years. They had a good life together I imagined, maybe kids, ready to enjoy some travel in retirement with their friends and then BOOM. That’s me, I thought.

I entered the program and was administered a drug called Yervoy. It was administered at an infusion center in Decatur. While the people were extremely caring and capable, privacy was pretty much lost. I kept running into people from home. Our common exchange was “I didn’t know.” Well now they do, and through whatever networks there are in a small community, I think everyone knows I have cancer. I correct them and say “I had cancer. I had surgery and it’s gone, but I am getting treatment.”

The treatment went well for a while and then I had a severe reaction only experienced by 4% of the trial program participants. It was serious enough that I had to discontinue the immunotherapy treatment. As of now, there is no proactive treatment to prevent the reoccurrence of melanoma, which has the 85% chance of showing up again. My Doctor refers to my treatment program as being in “an observation phase.” I call it the “wait till the cancer comes back and then we will treat it phase.”

So that’s where I am. That’s why no articles. I have left a lot out, but suffice it to say this experience has pretty well dominated my time and thoughts for a while. The last CT scan I had showed a suspicious spot that my Oncologist wanted to have biopsied. I did that two days ago and today, my wife and I will meet with him to find out what’s up. Will it be like the last biopsy of my lung that came back benign, or will it be like the telephone call informing me I had malignant melanoma. We will see. In the meantime, here are some quick observations:

1). The cancer specialists, the doctors, nurses and technicians, they are wonderful people. They are well-trained, kind people. They know their patients are hurting and fragile. I admire them all, down to the guy who volunteers his time to open the door for patients entering the Cancer Care Center in Decatur, always with a warm smile wishing them a good day.

2). The cost of care is enormously expensive. I am on Medicare and have private supplemental insurance through the state. I thank God for that. There are also times I want to choke some of the decision makers at my state insurance company who decide I shouldn’t have a particular drug or test that my doctor ordered. Agreements are mostly reached, but not until after some delay and consternation. Or as my wife describes it, “just bumps in the road.”

3). There will be “bumps in the road.” If you are in this boat, expect it and try and keep it in perspective.

4). I am so lucky to have a community of support. My wife, my kids, my brothers and sister, and great friends that send their love and prayers when I am on my way for a test or waiting for results. They have my back, and I truly love them all.

Now, I hope this personal piece will do it for this year for Bench and Bar. Next year, maybe something on Civility in the Courtroom or suggestions for successful mediations. I would like that. 