Donation protected
“You have cancer.” Those cold words hit me hard in a place that I didn’t even know I had. That horrific phrase was only trumped by the complete, long version of the same. “You have stage IV, grade 2, Neuroendocrine cancer.” Like a stone that was thrown into a well that had long since dried up… cold, hollow and empty. That was how I felt that fateful day in early December 2014 speaking with my oncologist for the first time. But alas, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Lets backup a minute.
My family
My name is Matthew Haake. I am 40 years old, a veteran, a husband, and a father. I have been married for 20 years to the love of my life, my obsession from high school, and the woman of my dreams, Nga Haake-Chau. She is one of the smartest people I have ever known, but where she really shines is in her personal strength and her ability to “infect” others with that strength. The toughness of a rock, yet still knows when to bend with what the world hands her. I would have never survived the events thus far without her. My two boys Ethan, 18 years old, and Evan, 15 years old, have amazed me with understanding, patience, and composure worthy of men twice their age. This diagnosis has been a challenge for my entire family.
Our story
We had moved to Blue Springs, Missouri, a suburb just east of Kansas City, three years ago after 17 years in Topeka, Kansas. I am an industrial electrician and had been working at the Goodyear Tire and Rubber company. After taking a job at the Ford Kansas City Assembly Plant and commuting from Topeka for nearly a year, the gas cost was killing our budget. A better selection of jobs for my wife, who is an RN, and much better schools for my boys made the move an easy choice. Things were looking up for a change. Two years ago this last December changed all of that. I was getting ready for work and felt a pain in my chest area. I mentioned it to my wife and in her trademark nursing fashion she told me that the pain was most likely my gall bladder and to go to work and that we would make an appointment to see the doctor the next day. It was not my gall bladder; my gall bladder was fine. It was a four centimeter (about the size of a doorknob) tumor behind my gall bladder. This tumor was pushing my gall bladder forward, thus causing the pain. Hearing the news was hard… telling my wife the news was devastating. We cried, made plans, cried some more, told friends and family, then cried more. After a week of this we brushed ourselves off and committed to each other to move forward. We still cry about it from time to time but we keep moving forward.
My type of cancer
Neuroendocrine cancer is a cancer that is found and diagnosed in patients that are typically in their 70s and 80s, and unless the tumors are in a location that give reason to “look closer” it can fester for a very long time. Stage IV means that the cancer has metastasized, or spread, to multiple locations. In my case my primary site is in my lower left lung and the additional sites are throughout my liver including the large one displacing the gall bladder, in my left hip and lower spine area. The tumors around my bones are currently only on the surface. It has not invaded the bone marrow yet. I take a rather painful monthly infusion to fortify the bones and keep the cancer out of the bone marrow. The “Grade 2” of the cancer is a reference to how fast the disease spreads. It is very possible, had events unfolded differently, that I could have lived another 10 years not knowing the cancer was growing inside of me. In such an instance there would have been nothing to do but hospice care. But as things have played out that was not the case.
Developments up too now
Fast forwarding to now… I have been diagnosed for just a shade over two years. For the majority of that time I have been on long-term disability from my job. The tumors in my hip have undergone radiation treatments when it became too painful to walk. My liver, which looks like Swiss cheese with all the tumors, has gone through three major operations. I consume upwards of a dozen different prescriptions and have necessary infusions every month. My stomach has been scoped, clipped, and cauterized to repair hemorrhaging. In addition, I have received blood transfusions to ensure my red blood cell count stays within an acceptable range.
How you can help
All of this has a cost and even though insurance has been a lifesaver, after two years of treatments it starts to stack up. Then we have the fact that my wife is the only one working. I get a disability check but it is nothing to write home about. The everyday bills of living (utilities, mortgage and the like) are part of the problem too. Caring for two growing boys is a bill that I happily pay, but is still a bill none-the-less. There just isn’t enough money to go around after so long.
Hope...
There is hope that I can return to work once I have recovered from major abdominal surgery to repair internal bleeding done the 27th of January and been weaned off the pain medications, but that is just a hope at the moment. Ultimately there is very little that can be done but treat the symptoms this is all palliative care- nothing is going to cure this. But I am committed to this fight, for my family and for my life as long as I can.
I am not the type who easily asks for help, which explains why I have waited so long to open a funding page. It’s very difficult for me, but I feel that I do not have a choice in the matter anymore...I need help. I am open to answering any questions or clarifying anything that I have not covered. I thank everyone for taking the time to read my story and thank you for your generosity.
My family
My name is Matthew Haake. I am 40 years old, a veteran, a husband, and a father. I have been married for 20 years to the love of my life, my obsession from high school, and the woman of my dreams, Nga Haake-Chau. She is one of the smartest people I have ever known, but where she really shines is in her personal strength and her ability to “infect” others with that strength. The toughness of a rock, yet still knows when to bend with what the world hands her. I would have never survived the events thus far without her. My two boys Ethan, 18 years old, and Evan, 15 years old, have amazed me with understanding, patience, and composure worthy of men twice their age. This diagnosis has been a challenge for my entire family.
Our story
We had moved to Blue Springs, Missouri, a suburb just east of Kansas City, three years ago after 17 years in Topeka, Kansas. I am an industrial electrician and had been working at the Goodyear Tire and Rubber company. After taking a job at the Ford Kansas City Assembly Plant and commuting from Topeka for nearly a year, the gas cost was killing our budget. A better selection of jobs for my wife, who is an RN, and much better schools for my boys made the move an easy choice. Things were looking up for a change. Two years ago this last December changed all of that. I was getting ready for work and felt a pain in my chest area. I mentioned it to my wife and in her trademark nursing fashion she told me that the pain was most likely my gall bladder and to go to work and that we would make an appointment to see the doctor the next day. It was not my gall bladder; my gall bladder was fine. It was a four centimeter (about the size of a doorknob) tumor behind my gall bladder. This tumor was pushing my gall bladder forward, thus causing the pain. Hearing the news was hard… telling my wife the news was devastating. We cried, made plans, cried some more, told friends and family, then cried more. After a week of this we brushed ourselves off and committed to each other to move forward. We still cry about it from time to time but we keep moving forward.
My type of cancer
Neuroendocrine cancer is a cancer that is found and diagnosed in patients that are typically in their 70s and 80s, and unless the tumors are in a location that give reason to “look closer” it can fester for a very long time. Stage IV means that the cancer has metastasized, or spread, to multiple locations. In my case my primary site is in my lower left lung and the additional sites are throughout my liver including the large one displacing the gall bladder, in my left hip and lower spine area. The tumors around my bones are currently only on the surface. It has not invaded the bone marrow yet. I take a rather painful monthly infusion to fortify the bones and keep the cancer out of the bone marrow. The “Grade 2” of the cancer is a reference to how fast the disease spreads. It is very possible, had events unfolded differently, that I could have lived another 10 years not knowing the cancer was growing inside of me. In such an instance there would have been nothing to do but hospice care. But as things have played out that was not the case.
Developments up too now
Fast forwarding to now… I have been diagnosed for just a shade over two years. For the majority of that time I have been on long-term disability from my job. The tumors in my hip have undergone radiation treatments when it became too painful to walk. My liver, which looks like Swiss cheese with all the tumors, has gone through three major operations. I consume upwards of a dozen different prescriptions and have necessary infusions every month. My stomach has been scoped, clipped, and cauterized to repair hemorrhaging. In addition, I have received blood transfusions to ensure my red blood cell count stays within an acceptable range.
How you can help
All of this has a cost and even though insurance has been a lifesaver, after two years of treatments it starts to stack up. Then we have the fact that my wife is the only one working. I get a disability check but it is nothing to write home about. The everyday bills of living (utilities, mortgage and the like) are part of the problem too. Caring for two growing boys is a bill that I happily pay, but is still a bill none-the-less. There just isn’t enough money to go around after so long.
Hope...
There is hope that I can return to work once I have recovered from major abdominal surgery to repair internal bleeding done the 27th of January and been weaned off the pain medications, but that is just a hope at the moment. Ultimately there is very little that can be done but treat the symptoms this is all palliative care- nothing is going to cure this. But I am committed to this fight, for my family and for my life as long as I can.
I am not the type who easily asks for help, which explains why I have waited so long to open a funding page. It’s very difficult for me, but I feel that I do not have a choice in the matter anymore...I need help. I am open to answering any questions or clarifying anything that I have not covered. I thank everyone for taking the time to read my story and thank you for your generosity.
Organizer
Matthew Haake
Organizer
Blue Springs, MO