Earlier today, I had the most gratifying experience I have ever had in the sport of swimming (and
that's saying a lot). I want to share it.
Some newsgroup readers may recall things I've written before about my father, a truly remarkable
swimmer, who started competing at age 6 and who basically never stopped (he's now 90). I won't go
over his entire swimming "bio;" it's nothing short of amazing. A Google Groups search on "runnswim"
"my Dad" will yield of a lot of "that's my Dad" bragging.
I just want to write about the last 12 months of my Dad's swimming life, culminating earlier today.
Exactly one year ago, he swam the annual ISHOF (International Swimming Hall of Fame) one mile ocean
race, held mainly for the 30 or so college varsity teams who train at the ISHOF pool complex (two 50
meter; one 25 yard) on the beach in Ft. Lauderdale. At age 89, he had a pretty good time (38
minutes). It was a brutally cold morning, however (low forties; wind chill in the 30s). He couldn't
find his clothes and was just wandering around, dripping wet, in his Speedos. He started shaking
badly; someone called 911; he ended up at Broward General Hospital, ultimately receiving a 4 vessel
coronary bypass graft.
The night he came out of surgery into the intensive care unit, chest split wide open and then sewn
up, tubes coming out of every orifice, I told him that, in one year's time, I was going to come
again from California and we would swim the 2004 race together.
Post-operatively, he was overdosed on blood thinners (Coumadin, also known as DeCon rat poison). The
day he went home, he passed out in his kitchen, literally calling 911 himself as he slumped to the
floor. In the first 24 hours, he required the transfusion of 8 units of blood and packed cells
(essentially the entire blood volume of an adult). It was a massive bleed from the stomach. It was
treated with cautery via endoscopy and antidotes to the Coumadin. Four weeks later, he had a repeat
gastric endoscopy with biopsy. It was originally read out as only H pylori (a bacterium which causes
most ulcers) gastritis. But the slides were sent out to the Cleveland Clinic, which diagnosed
gastric adenocarcinoma (stomach cancer).
I immediately flew him out to California, where Anton Bilchik of the John Wayne Cancer Institute
performed an 80% gastrectomy. Remarkably, it was about the smallest, earliest cancer Dr. Bilchik had
ever seen. Very small. Minimally invasive. Negative nodes. Truly amazing serendipity. Without the
iatrogenic overdosing on rat poison, he wouldn't have had the bleed. Without the bleed, no
endoscopy. No endoscopy, and the cancer would still be growing, not to be discovered until much too
late (as in the case of most stomach cancers in the USA).
But he's left with a very small stomach. He loses a LOT of weight (but he's happy to be able to fit
into clothes last worn 20 years ago). He starts to swim again. By August, he swims 10 events in the
Kentucky long course masters championship, setting two age group backstoke records (age 90-94).
Fast forward to today. True to my word, I fly in from California for today's ISHOF ocean mile, on
the first anniversary of his trip to the Broward County ER, after which all H--- had broken loose.
I'm looking at him at the back of the starting pack for the masters race. I'm a little shocked to
note how much weight he's really lost. I can see the bones in his shoulder girdle. I can see his
humerus (upper arm) bone. A year ago, he'd looked like a stud swimmer. Strong shoulders, strong
arms, muscular triceps, big barrel chest. Now, he's looking disconcertingly like a 90 year old man
who's been split open from his neck down to his navel by two of the finest big time surgeons in the
world. They did a great job...saved his life, really....but he's still got that long, continuous
scar (really two separate scars which meet just below his breastbone). And he's got four pieces of
leg vein supplying blood to his heat. And he's only got 20% of a stomach.
And I start to worry. We had a sudden rain squall just before the start of the race. The ocean was
very rough. He's got to swim into breaking waves approaching from the forequarter at a 45 degree
angle, pushing him back and in to shore. Plus against the S->N current.
A year ago, he finished in 38 minutes, despite possibly having suffered a heart attack somewhere in
the middle. Today, it took the two of us (I swam next to him the whole way, keeping him on
course...he stubbornly swims without goggles...he's a product of the pre-goggle era)....it took us
one hour and 49 minutes...to go one mile. There were times when we swam for 30 minutes and made
virtually no headway. He'd alternate freestyle and backstroke. He swallowed salt water. Having only
20% of a stomach, it quickly filled with salt water. He turned a cadaveric gray. I recalled a prior
difficult swim. When he was in his mid-seventies, he three times did the 10 mile Huntington Beach
Pier to Seal Beach pier swim. His best time was 4:38. One year, it took him 6 hours and 10 minutes.
I paddled a surf longboard the whole way. With 3
1/2 miles still to go, I started to lie. "Only 2 miles left." "Only one mile." etc. And he got
through it and finished.
I tried the same thing today. With 45 minutes gone by and only half way, I'd say..."just 400 yards
more." Then 200. Then 100. And grimly he kept on, losing more ground, weakening every minute. Then
an hour and 15 minutes had gone by and he was thinking he had only 100 yards or so to go...a
lifeguard paddled up and said "you've got it made now; only 400 yards to go." I'd told him a half
hour previously that he had only 400 yards to go. We couldn't swim straight, obviously. We'd swim
way out, right into the waves, then turn and swim down the shoreline, where the waves would quickly
drive us in too close; so we'd have to go out again, and on and on and on it went.
When the lifequard told him that he still had 400 yards to go, I was sure he was going to quit. But
he didn't. He grimly put his face down and swam yet again right into the face of the waves. Right
about then, I got the most gawd-awful jellyfish (Portugese Man-o-war) attack of my life. I had
slimy, stinging filaments all over my torso and arms. I couldn't get the stuff off. The more I
pushed and rubbed, the more I got stung. Finally, Dad's freestyle and backstroke just died. We
started treading water. He looked like a dying man. Really. I gave him a way out. "Dad, I just got a
real bad Man-o-war attack and I'm going to have to go in." He turns to me and says, you go in and
get yourself treated, I'll meet you at the end. And turns into the waves again, with the treading
water morphing into a pretty passable 90 year old man version of Kitajima. Long strokes. Great
streamlines. Powerful kicks. So I go back to him. Then two lifeguards paddle out to clear away three
large Men-o-war in our paths. Like the parting of the Red Sea, they cleared them away. Finally,
FINALLY we got past the Orange Buoy and he could turn into shore. To make things sadistically evil,
of course there was a rip current right at that point. He started up his freestyle one last
time...and clawed his way to shore...where everyone...everyone had gone home, except for the Race
Director himself...and a reporter for the Ft. Lauderdale Sun Sentinel (look for the interview
tomorrow...I'm pretty sure it will be there).
This is a guy who did 20 mile races in Lakes Michigan and Ontario in the 1930s. A guy who was once
only 1.1 seconds over Weismueller's 18 year record in the 100 free. Former world age group record
holder in the 1500 freestyle (at age
2). Who when he was 52 could still do repeat 200s (scy) on the 2:20...with hand touch open turns and
no goggles...almost indefinitely. And he said this was the hardest race he'd ever been in in his
whole life...and the most satisfying.
I feel the same way.
Post-script: I finally found a useful application for TI drills. They are a GREAT way to swim slowly
for 1 hour and 49 minutes while swimming with a 90 year old with a 4 vessel bypass and only 20% of a
stomach and the head of his humerus showing through his skin.
Couple of pics:
Me and Dad, about an hour post swim:
weisenthal.orgdad larry post swim.jpgOpen ↗
One of my Portugese Man-o-war stings:
weisenthal.orgman o war 2.jpgOpen ↗
Quoted message said:Quoted message said:Quoted message said:
Happy New Year, everyone.
- Larry