Encourage Me: Blessed: The Challenge of Robert A. Kinker

In May of 2009, I was forty-five years-old. I knew something wasn’t quite right (with me) when I left halfway through my daughter’s middle school violin concert to go home, and sleep. I’d been missing a lot of work lately from my job with the federal government as a Data Input Clerk.

It seemed I was waking up dizzy every morning. I was having a lot of trouble standing without the aid of a nearby wall. Symptoms that went unnoticed at the time by both my wife and me (which may have been hints something was wrong with my body) included extreme weight loss, memory problems, and urinary issues.

Numerous visits to my primary care physician gave several incorrect diagnoses. Lots of expensive and unhelpful medications were prescribed to aid in correcting what I had, which was unclear as to what that was.

As the symptoms of instability did not lesson, my wife and I decided the best thing for me to do was to visit the emergency room at Mount Carmel East Hospital. An MRI revealed what was assumed to be a mass at the base of my brain (closer to the left side). The procedure that would clarified (whether that was so) completely horrified me (if I thought about it too much).

No ruling on this could be completely accurate without brain surgery. It turned out there was no mass. Three small sections were taken from my brain, and sent to four different medical facilities for analysis. This included the Mayo Clinic.

Much later it was determined that I had a rare form of Lymphoma/Leukemia combined, which was also known as blood cancer. (I have a scar on the back of my head from that operation. It is now well-hidden by my hair.)

To treat what was discovered; we chose Hematologist, Dr. Robert Baiocchi at the James Cancer Hospital and Solove Research Institute for my care. My wife and I both felt it would be best for me to medically retire from my eighteen and half year career with the Defense Finance and Accounting Services as I underwent what was to come.

(The decrease in income as I went from a full-time paycheck to medical disability and Social Security was considerable. It played havoc with my part of our family income.)

This period of time was fretful (and stressful) for my wife. She had lost her father to cancer (in her twenties). Her thoughts had to be wondering if the man she’d married on November 13, 1993, was soon to become a cancer casualty. (My wife would do her best to aid in saving my life.)

In addition to that emotional burden, my wife worked a full-time job (during the day). She tried to uplift the moods of a twelve-year old daughter (who was upset with what the final verdict could be on her father’s life).

My wife visited me almost every night when I was in the hospital. My wife kept up all that was involved in maintaining our home. Looking back on this situation now (with the assistance of time), chemotherapy (was easy) compared to the difficulty of what she was dealing with.

A portal in my arm was used as my chemotherapy injections dripped into my arm. This fluid was nicknamed MCHOP (which stood for Methotrexate, Cylophosphamide, Hydroxydaunorubicin, Oncovin, and Prednisone). A total of six chemotherapy installments occurred about two months apart, and concluded in March of 2010.(I believe these aggressive measures saved my life, and have helped to keep me my cancer in remission today.)

After this, I spent about two to three months of intensive in-house physical therapy at OSU’s Dodd Hall, where I learned to reconfigure my life to this new normal. Returning home I eventually learned to shower on my own, drive again, and come to terms with retirement at my age.

I remember a profound realization that occurred to me during the congregational singing on a Sunday morning at First Baptist Church of Gahanna, where we were members. I wondered how many of the people present truly believed what they were joyfully singing right now. In the challenging times (like I was experiencing) could a Christian belief system hold up to what could happen?

Regardless of the above, I needed to realize that this seemed unfair (in my eyes). Only God could control the outcome of this situation. I could choose to focus on the positive aspects of this challenge (instead of the negative) and improve the healing process in my body as well as my own attitude.

The positives included me regularly updating family and friends through CaringBridge (a free website for the ill). I now had time for volunteering with worthy organizations like Voicecorps (which involved reading for the blind). I wrote an inspirational novel of modernized Bible stories called There Just Like Us.

I could be there for my daughter before and after school. (This was a parental wish we didn’t ever see as a reality.) Our family adopted our two male Chihuahuas (Rosco and Chico) that kept me company when my family was away from the house. There were kind friends that stepped in to get me to all the many places I needed to be at (as I was not driving).

Some of the most difficult “what if” things I chose to do involved a voluntary “goodbye” interview DVD at a cancer support group. It’s hard to not cry when you are telling your wife and daughter what you want them to do after your death.

My father was killed in a car accident when I was fourteen. (He was a barber and co-owner at the Drexel Barbershop.) Even though he never intended to abandon me and my two siblings (Kim and Jim), that’s how my emotions interpreted it.

If the worst should happen, I had to know my daughter would have some part of me present at several major crossroads in her life. With my gift of communication, I knew what had to be done.

My daughter would receive letters from me on her sixteenth birthday, high school graduation, her wedding, and the birth of my first grandchild. I also made sure my wife received a letter about my future wishes for her (that included remarriage).

Luckily, I was alive when my wife and daughter read their letters on our computer (and watched the DVD). As is the case with my unusual family, they did not have the emotional reactions I would have anticipated. I later fictionalized all the letters (to my daughter) in part of a book I eventually published named Whatever. (Nothing I write ever goes to waste.)

Though I will always be a work in progress, today I know that I should always allow myself more grace when my energy supply is gone (and there’s more stuff that needs to be done). When I’m over stimulated, I emotionally shut down. I tend to then become rather blunt with those around me as my patience is low.

I often get busy, forget, and struggle to give the person who has been their strong (like a mighty oak tree) through all this the affection she has asked for from me consistently. (Of course, I’m referring to my wife.)

I find that I feel more like a normal man (whether I have traumatic brain injury or not) when I can successfully connect with other men (close in age to me) that are friends. I attend a men’s group every Thursday morning at 6:00am at a Tim Horton’s (close to my home).

There are about six guys that eat breakfast together, chat about what’s going on, and read a short devotional. All that valuable male bonding time lasts until around 7:30am. Then we are energized for all we need to do in our lives. I look forward to this every week. Its value is priceless.

As for my body, my legs are quite banged up with the instability issues I have. Cuts to my limbs tend to heal rather slowly as I am also diabetic. I have sleep apnea, an arthritic knee, and my vision (even with glasses) can be blurry at times.

Currently, I work part-time as a Cashier/Sales Associate at the Easton Market Staples store. The routine of getting out of the house while socializing (and working) with customers and store associates has been wonderful for my morale (as well as the family income).

Routinely on my day off (Thursday); I meet with a local psychiatrist, Daniel Phalen. We have discussed the possibility of me returning to a full-time forty hour work week. We are both certain I could do this for a brief period of time. With my new reality of decreased stamina (after traumatic brain injury), both of us are uncertain that I could keep up a full-time work regimen up for the long haul.

Years ago, I discovered our third and final Chihuahua (a female Miniature Pinscher combination) as a volunteer at the Franklin County Dog Shelter. Lola has been an exciting (and energized addition) to the Kinker household (that we were unaware we needed. At times I wonder who chose whom.)

Whenever I hear of someone who has died of my disease, I gasp and realize just how blessed I am with another opportunity to live. Besides my family (both human and canine), my passion in life is blogging. This open platform gives me a way to communicate important values on a wide range of topics.

I am invigorated by providing both encouraging and challenging solutions to my readers (on a regular basis). It is both a privilege and a responsibility I take seriously.

In my opinion, my second chance was provided by God for the purpose of being the writer of my blog, Encourage Me. I am thankful for the chance to help others (in return for all that I have been blessed with).

NOTE: This is extended version of my story (with some never before viewed material). It was delivered to the Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) Support Group at the Dempsey Center in Riverside Methodist Hospital, Thursday, June, 9, 2016, 6pm.