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Cancer Sucks- Help Rodney!
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$3,085 raised of $10K
38 donations
Towboat Captain Needs A Lifeline
Three months ago, Rodney Vickery was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. Oncologists broke the news; the rapid growth of the tumors meant a transplant was his only option. It was a harsh blow to a man that had already weathered his fair share of storms.
This wasn't Rodney's first battle with a serious illness. A decade before, while visiting a doctor for reoccurring pain in the left side of his face, he was told that he suffered from a rare condition called Trigeminal Neuralgia. This disorder of the facial nerves would mean a lifelong struggle to manage intense, even agonizing pain. There is no real cure, only treatment.
Despite this, Rodney was determined to push on and provide for his family. A well-respected towboat captain for the Merchant Marines, Rodney enjoyed navigating the waters and was good at his job. He often spoke proudly of his knowledge of all things nautical. Eventually though, the pain became debilitating and the heavy medications prescribed for it impaired his motor functions, giving him no choice but to give up the career he loved.
His wife of 38 years, Marie, had resigned from her position working years in the special education department at Anderson-Shiro High School some time ago. With Rodney unable to work a traditional 9 to 5, the couple took up side jobs when and where they could to try and make a dent in the never ceasing medical bills. Years of costly meds, procedures meant to curb the pain, a constant fight with the insurance company to pay their part and trips to consult specialists created a debt that just kept adding up. Ultimately the financial burden lead to the loss of their last sanctuary, their home. With no other option, the couple moved in with Marie's sister (two hours away from Rodney’s doctors in Houston).
An enduring love for one another, the support of their family, and their faith in God had seen them through their darkest hours; but watching her husband's constant suffering was devastating for Marie. Determined and desperate for an answer Marie threw herself into researching everything she could about her husband’s illness and any possible treatments they had not yet tried. What she discovered was a dangerous, fairly experimental surgery that had shown promise for the long-term quality of life of Trigeminal Neuralgia patients. With this hope in hand, Marie searched until she found a surgeon who would agree to take Rodney’s case. They found their man in Dr. Skariba. During the procedure he performed, a device was implanted that would hopefully greatly diminish Rodney's pain. The surgery went off without a hitch.
Just days after what was deemed a successful surgery, Rodney seemed a changed man, the man he was before Trigeminal Neuralgia took over his life. He was smiling wide and laughing hard telling colorful stories and playing with his grandkids. Maybe his lovely deep voice would be heard in the house again singing old rock songs. Maybe soon he'd be seen in the backyard building something with hammer and nails and his two capable hands. Maybe he and his wife would be found some sunny afternoon, hands deep in soil, planting a garden of fresh herbs. The maybes were limitless.
This newfound hope for the future didn't last. It was nine days since the surgery that was supposed to change his life and Rodney Vickery was being rushed to a local E.R by ambulance. He was visiting his daughter, son in law and grandchildren at their home just minutes before. It was discovered that Rodney had an infection at the site of his surgery. The situation was made worse, as the wound was improperly cleaned and dressed by a nurse and would later result in a serious case of MRSA. Disgusted with the local hospital conditions and the staff’s unprofessional behavior Marie had Rodney transferred to Houston Methodist. For Rodney to have the chance to properly heal, it was decided that the device had to be removed. This meant he was back at square one. Doctors brought more bad news. While running a barrage of tests during this recent hospital stay, they found a spot the size of a peanut on his liver. It was a tumor and it was cancer.
It's been three months since his diagnosis, that peanut sized tumor is the size of a grapefruit, and Rodney is awaiting the day his name is called off that transplant list.
Rodney Garland Vickery is a name on that list but he isn't just a name. He isn't some stranger on a page. He’s a husband to a funny lady with a great big heart, he's daddy to two grown girls he still calls his Princess & his Puddin, he's Paw Paw to four grandkids who adore him. He loves classic rock on vinyl, but Unchained Melody is his karaoke song. He'll spend hours meticulously putting together 1,000-piece puzzles with his daughter. He still loves going on movie dates with his wife.
As a young man, driving down the highway, Rodney witnessed a car accident and without hesitation pulled over to give the stranger lying in the road CPR. He stayed with him until paramedics arrived. Most would say that was a heroic act. Rodney would just say it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped others in need and it certainly wasn’t the last.
Now Rodney and his wife are the ones in need, and since they'd never ask for help for themselves, I'm going to ask for them. These are genuinely two of the kindest, humblest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing and right now they're just barely keeping their heads above water. I'm hoping that whomever reads this will stop and offer up a prayer of support for Rodney and Marie. Then, if you have the means and feel moved to help, please donate whatever you feel appropriate. Every little bit helps.
Three months ago, Rodney Vickery was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. Oncologists broke the news; the rapid growth of the tumors meant a transplant was his only option. It was a harsh blow to a man that had already weathered his fair share of storms.
This wasn't Rodney's first battle with a serious illness. A decade before, while visiting a doctor for reoccurring pain in the left side of his face, he was told that he suffered from a rare condition called Trigeminal Neuralgia. This disorder of the facial nerves would mean a lifelong struggle to manage intense, even agonizing pain. There is no real cure, only treatment.
Despite this, Rodney was determined to push on and provide for his family. A well-respected towboat captain for the Merchant Marines, Rodney enjoyed navigating the waters and was good at his job. He often spoke proudly of his knowledge of all things nautical. Eventually though, the pain became debilitating and the heavy medications prescribed for it impaired his motor functions, giving him no choice but to give up the career he loved.
His wife of 38 years, Marie, had resigned from her position working years in the special education department at Anderson-Shiro High School some time ago. With Rodney unable to work a traditional 9 to 5, the couple took up side jobs when and where they could to try and make a dent in the never ceasing medical bills. Years of costly meds, procedures meant to curb the pain, a constant fight with the insurance company to pay their part and trips to consult specialists created a debt that just kept adding up. Ultimately the financial burden lead to the loss of their last sanctuary, their home. With no other option, the couple moved in with Marie's sister (two hours away from Rodney’s doctors in Houston).
An enduring love for one another, the support of their family, and their faith in God had seen them through their darkest hours; but watching her husband's constant suffering was devastating for Marie. Determined and desperate for an answer Marie threw herself into researching everything she could about her husband’s illness and any possible treatments they had not yet tried. What she discovered was a dangerous, fairly experimental surgery that had shown promise for the long-term quality of life of Trigeminal Neuralgia patients. With this hope in hand, Marie searched until she found a surgeon who would agree to take Rodney’s case. They found their man in Dr. Skariba. During the procedure he performed, a device was implanted that would hopefully greatly diminish Rodney's pain. The surgery went off without a hitch.
Just days after what was deemed a successful surgery, Rodney seemed a changed man, the man he was before Trigeminal Neuralgia took over his life. He was smiling wide and laughing hard telling colorful stories and playing with his grandkids. Maybe his lovely deep voice would be heard in the house again singing old rock songs. Maybe soon he'd be seen in the backyard building something with hammer and nails and his two capable hands. Maybe he and his wife would be found some sunny afternoon, hands deep in soil, planting a garden of fresh herbs. The maybes were limitless.
This newfound hope for the future didn't last. It was nine days since the surgery that was supposed to change his life and Rodney Vickery was being rushed to a local E.R by ambulance. He was visiting his daughter, son in law and grandchildren at their home just minutes before. It was discovered that Rodney had an infection at the site of his surgery. The situation was made worse, as the wound was improperly cleaned and dressed by a nurse and would later result in a serious case of MRSA. Disgusted with the local hospital conditions and the staff’s unprofessional behavior Marie had Rodney transferred to Houston Methodist. For Rodney to have the chance to properly heal, it was decided that the device had to be removed. This meant he was back at square one. Doctors brought more bad news. While running a barrage of tests during this recent hospital stay, they found a spot the size of a peanut on his liver. It was a tumor and it was cancer.
It's been three months since his diagnosis, that peanut sized tumor is the size of a grapefruit, and Rodney is awaiting the day his name is called off that transplant list.
Rodney Garland Vickery is a name on that list but he isn't just a name. He isn't some stranger on a page. He’s a husband to a funny lady with a great big heart, he's daddy to two grown girls he still calls his Princess & his Puddin, he's Paw Paw to four grandkids who adore him. He loves classic rock on vinyl, but Unchained Melody is his karaoke song. He'll spend hours meticulously putting together 1,000-piece puzzles with his daughter. He still loves going on movie dates with his wife.
As a young man, driving down the highway, Rodney witnessed a car accident and without hesitation pulled over to give the stranger lying in the road CPR. He stayed with him until paramedics arrived. Most would say that was a heroic act. Rodney would just say it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped others in need and it certainly wasn’t the last.
Now Rodney and his wife are the ones in need, and since they'd never ask for help for themselves, I'm going to ask for them. These are genuinely two of the kindest, humblest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing and right now they're just barely keeping their heads above water. I'm hoping that whomever reads this will stop and offer up a prayer of support for Rodney and Marie. Then, if you have the means and feel moved to help, please donate whatever you feel appropriate. Every little bit helps.