The Cribbage Game

The year was 1980 and Thanksgiving was a time of celebration at our house. My grandma and grandpa from Reads Landing were up to enjoy the holiday with us. During their visit we found out that my grandpa wasn’t feeling well and the decision was made to take him to the hospital. I never saw my grandfather again. Within a few days, it was determined that he had cancer and a short time into December he was gone. An autopsy showed that he died from stomach cancer. He was 70 years old.

I am writing this because my grandpa has been on my mind a lot over the past few months. Now holidays at the Engnell house meant one massive cribbage tournament. My grandpa and dad would play game after game against each other. You would lose count on the number of games they played but when you asked them who was ahead in total games won, it was always tied. If you happened to catch one of the games at the end, you could challenge the winner of their game to a game. The hard part with that was that as kids we were just learning to play and would have to constantly run to the one not playing and say “it’s his crib, what should I throw.”  They would just smile, give us tips and teach us how to play the game. The cribbage board and the deck of cards never left the kitchen table.

My wife and I recently spent an afternoon in Reads Landing overlooking the Mississippi River. My grandfather loved that river and made his living off of it. It felt good to be there. As we sat there, I kept waiting for him to motor down the hill in his white Ford Falcon to see how I was doing. My grandpa was an amazing man of faith and strength but he never stood a chance with this cancer. He didn’t even get a chance to fight. Understanding that he had this disease, and that it took him so quickly, was just another factor I took in consideration when making the decision to have my stomach removed.

November is Stomach Cancer Awareness Month. I write this blog, not about me, but about my grandfather and the families whose lives are devastated by this cancer every year. According the No Stomach For Cancer website, nearly 1 million people will be diagnosed with Hereditary Diffused Stomach Cancer over the next 12 months and approximately 700,000 of them will die. The No Stomach For Cancer site is dedicated to the fight against stomach cancer and the support for people with the CDH1 gene mutation. They have given me support and a platform to tell my story. One of the key points of the organization is that it strives for the awareness of stomach cancer. For the past few weeks, on the organization's Facebook site, they have been running a series on families who lives have been impacted by this disease. In so many cases the stores are similar to my grandfather’s. One day they find out that someone they love has this cancer and shortly thereafter that person is gone.

I am not asking you for anything, but you can help. This information needs to be shared. The stories on the site, like mine, need to continue to make it into the lives of people at risk. I got lucky, when they removed my stomach they did not find cancer. If you read the stores on the website that is normally not the case. Many other CDH1 mutation carriers have their stomachs removed and the doctors find stage one cancer or worse lining their stomachs. Without the surgery they would have most like died. Folks at risk need to know that they have an option. Now I can tell you first hand that the option (having one’s stomach removed) kind of sucks, but it is better than the alternative. So please share the link to my blog, or better yet share the link to the No Stomach for Cancer website (www.nostomachforcancer.org). The website talks about the risk factor and gives advice for people who have a history to stomach cancer in their family. If you’re not comfortable with that then maybe you will fly the stomach cancer colors for a day or so on your Facebook page for me. It really is all about sharing the knowledge and creating awareness.

In the end, this blog is a little about me and my journey. I inherited the CDH1 gene from my mom who got it from her dad, my grandpa. And in a way, this past August, grandpa was still helping me play cribbage. This time it was against cancer and, like the child did before, I ran to him, saying “Grandpa it is cancer’s crib, what do I throw?”  I imagine him just smiling telling me I knew what I needed to throw and that I had this game. So I threw the only thing I could throw to win the game.

The guy you know without a stomach.     

Roger Engnell

Who's gonna tell you when it's too late
Who's gonna tell you things aren't so great

You can't go on thinking nothing's wrong
Who's gonna drive you home tonight

(Drive  The Cars)