5 minute read
Beauty from Brokeness
Beauty from Brokeness
Dr. Adam van Wart’s Journey Through Cancer
With a calm presence and a warm, humorous demeanor, Dr. Adam van Wart is a popular member of the faculty at AMU. Though his tenure at the University has been brief—this fall marks the beginning of his third year—it has been anything but uneventful.
Van Wart came to AMU in 2017 with his family—wife Megan, of nearly 20 years; son Kale now 14; daughter Macey, 10; and son Anson, 6—after obtaining his PhD at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. For him, landing the job at AMU was fantastic, because getting a job in academia is “almost impossible.” He said: “To get [a job] where you can teach the faith without fear and even in your own specialty with graduate students, that’s winning the lottery.”
The beginning of his first academic year at AMU was interrupted by the landfall of Hurricane Irma. The two-week storm struck on August 30, only two days after classes started at the University. After weathering Hurricane Irma in the fall, it seemed as though the rest of the year would be simple and easy by comparison. But the real storm was only on the horizon for Van Wart and his family.
In late February, Adam went on a 16-mile canoe trip with the Boy Scouts. Following the trip, he started feeling some back pain, which he simply attributed to “getting older”, and so at first he figured it would go away. Instead of abating, the pain only grew, and he became concerned. Eventually, when the pain became “excruciating” he sought medical attention and was referred for a CT scan. In the meantime, he was still teaching his full load every day and by late April, he was taking a lot of painkillers to cope. The CT scan was scheduled for mid-May, just before the University let out for the summer. Because of the timing of his appointment, he had to drink the contrast chemicals for the scan during a lecture, which he describes as “disgusting and awkward.”
The scan revealed a 4cm tumor growing in his thoracic vertebrae. Though his, and his wife’s, concerns began to grow, there was hope that the tumor would be benign. At the end of May, he went to Miami to have the tumor removed, which couldn’t be done without also removing bits of his spine. He says that he’s still adjusting to the loss of that portion of his backbone, that the sensation of touch there is still a bit painful, even more than a year on, but that “the pain even after this operation was less than the pain of having the tumor in there, because the tumor just smashed the spinal cord…and the whole lower left side of my body would go numb.”
Van Wart’s Naples oncologist returned final diagnosis after the biopsy: diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, activated B-cell type, a very rare, but aggressive, type of cancer, with only a 45% survival rate two years after diagnosis.
Van Wart began chemotherapy immediately. His type of cancer merited a more potent— and dangerous— cocktail of chemicals than is typically used in out-patient cancer treatment. As such, each treatment for him meant a week’s stay in the hospital.
The chemo treatments lasted all summer and into the fall. Then, it was on to radiation therapy for three and a half weeks. By the time his treatment was complete and he had a clear scan, it was mid-November, and his first semester of classes following diagnosis was nearly over. He had been offered the freedom to take the semester off from teaching and stay home, but decided that, in order to win the mental and emotional battle of chemotherapy, he would need to keep himself occupied with work. So, he chose a reduced course load instead of time off and though it was difficult to manage, he had help. A colleague teamtaught one class with him. The load of another class was lightened by the help of his teaching assistant. It was still a mighty struggle: each chemo therapy session still put him in the hospital for a week, and he ended up missing more classes than he allows his students to miss.
In addition to the means of classroom instruction to divert his attention from his illness, Van Wart coped through the help of family, friends, and colleagues. He describes his wife as “a trooper… with her hands full, teaching full time, taking care of the kids… [she] handled it really well.” The family had the help of Megan’s father and Adam’s mother, who took turns to visit and care for them. He also describes the blessing of having university members come visit and pray with him before his surgery: President Towey, Academic Dean Roger Nutt, and Theology Department Chair Michael Dauphinais all came to visit and pray; Fr. Guy Mansini gave him the sacrament of extreme unction; and fellow first-year faculty member Jeff Walkey and his wife, Emily, visited and fed the family.
He was also very encouraged by a family of three students who were going through their father’s cancer journey at the same time. They brought him a care package of things he didn’t even know that he would need. In April of this year the pain returned to the site of his laminectomy, prompting him to arrange a scan before his regularly scheduled 6-month check. Thankfully, the results still showed him clear of cancer, and he was able to chalk the pain up to his muscles continuing to adjust to the lack of that portion of bone.
Today, Van Wart is doing great. His hair and beard have grown back, he has returned to a full teaching load, and he continues to have clear cancer screenings. And while he’s still considered at risk until he’s been clear of the cancer for two years, he is able at this point to look backward in time at the experience and at what it has taught him.
Indeed he is able to speak about his own mortality with the calm confidence which encompasses both the gravity of the fact of death’s reach, and the levity of one who trusts fully in the God who made and sustains all things. He has grown in appreciation of the benefits of suffering and the realization that God’s mercies are new every morning: “The author of Hebrews talks about how a father who loves his children disciplines [them]. [I’m] learning to see the suffering as a gift and to treat it as such; recognizing that— being diagnosed, of course, you’re immediately fearful that you’re going to die— no one really knows how long they have. Nothing’s changed with the diagnosis. The day of my death is just as ambiguous now as it was then, so you take it a day at a time and trust God for what he gives, and make the most of what you have.”
His continued gratitude for being a member of the AMU community is evident, too, as he processes the events of the past year: “[I’m] surrounded by such a community of faith and prayer and love. I’m quite convinced that if it hadn’t been for the prayer and support of the students and faculty and [my] family that… that I wouldn’t be here right now. And who knows? The stats aren’t great. But I’m confident that God’s will is for the good and I’m happy to play whatever role that is. Most days. Most days… We’re just taking it a day at a time. Take what He gives and try to make the most of it.”
Through both laughter and tears, Van Wart has gained wisdom and insight. “I would have preferred not to have undergone it, I don’t recommend cancer to anyone. But again, it’s one of those ways in which you see that God is in the business of bringing beautiful things out of what is broken.”
