Beating the Odds: A Story of Cancer Survival, ARVC and Resilient Love

My name is Roger Klinger. I live in the mountains of western North Carolina and I am a survivor of esophageal cancer and a rare, genetic heart defect/disease called ARVC. Most people with this disorder die in their 20s to 40s — I wasn’t even diagnosed until age 57 and here I am at 67 years of age, alive and kicking!

When I was diagnosed with esophageal cancer out of the blue in the fall of 2021, it was a shock to me as I had a nasty variant that is usually fatal. And I immediately began radiation therapy and had the life-changing esophagectomy at Duke with an amazing surgeon. And, even though at the time I was told I had a 30% to 50% chance of survival, I am cancer-free to the best of their knowledge.

While I was barely recovering from the massive surgery, I was at home with a feeding tube, very weak and still sick from the treatments when my spouse and beloved life partner Marvin Bennett came down with a horrible form of cancerous sarcoma and at 90 years old; he began radiation and had a 9.5-pound tumor removed the day before Thanksgiving 2022. It was a wild time of life as I was managing my own recovery and taking care of him full time, but there were many gifts and blessings that took place during this challenging time in life.

We were both so fortunate as we have amazing community and so many loving friends that surrounded us with love, bringing meal trains to us, shuttling us to medical appointments and treatments, sharing stories and music and poetry and fellowship — we were literally surrounded by the love of this amazing community here and friends all over and extended family.

Marvin came through the surgery, which was miraculous, and he so loved Thanksgiving, and a dear friend of mine drove two hours as he and his mother-in-law prepared a six-course Thanksgiving dinner and drove it all the way to Greenville, South Carolina, where the surgery took place, and the three of us had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner made with love in the ICU a day after Marvins’s surgery.

My best friend in life took a leave of absence, drove eight hours down from the Outer Banks and moved into the loft to take care of Marvin and myself and help coordinate all the nurses, CNAs and hospice workers in our house. Every night several of us we all had dinner and watched comedies together and celebrated life.

Marvin and I were able to spend every living moment together for that whole year and it was a rough year, no question about it. I had lost 112 pounds from the surgery. He had so many falls and trips to the emergency room, I couldn't keep track of them. And yet, what matters most is that we lived fully and we celebrated life, no matter what. We had so many dinners with friends visiting here, so much laughter and a lot of gratitude. We live on two acres surrounded by gardens, and every morning we had breakfast on the porch, watching the birds and the wildlife ,and during the winter months the wood stove was cranked up every day.

Each day we shared a time for meditation and prayer, in many ways it was a very holy time. And even though I was brokenhearted when Marvin passed away a few days before his 91st birthday, surrounded by friends in hospice, I will always be grateful for extra extraordinary love that was shared between us and all around us.

Since then, I have grieved deeply and every day deal with the realities of post-esophagectomy/gastro issues, and yet I manage well. Recently, I've had to deal with my ongoing heart condition as it's progressive, uncurable and fatal — but so is life! At best, modern medicine can slow it down with the drugs I'm on, like cancer, for life. Some days it's been hard to breathe or function, but it passes.

In many ways, I feel like one of the luckiest men on the planet because I've lived a richly fulfilling life, and one thing Marvin and I were crystal clear about and I remain so is I am only interested in quality of life, not quantity. Two months ago, when they told me the only solution for me was a heart transplant, I started laughing with the heart specialist and said I have no interest in this — I love my heart and I love my life as it is and I'm comfortable as I have no fear of death, but my choice is to live every day of life, help others and celebrate the precious gift of life itself and love.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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