The Burnt Pancake

By Jeff L. Jolin

Being his family’s 1st born from Sioux City, Iowa circa 1955 Baby Boomer generation, Jeffrey matures and ascertains that he is “The Burnt Pancake” of his family; (after you burn the first one, the others turn out fine,) and he is the rebellious one, who “enlightens” family, friends and many loves, with his interesting “personalities” which illustrate a “collage” of expressions; of humor, encouragement and love, for all “Burnt Pancake” type people.

Often misunderstood while growing up in the surreal nexus counterculture of the 1970's, with wild excesses, including spirited and salacious stories all the way though his life.

Some Boomers never quite grow up, or fit in with the mainstream. Jeffrey Lee is an amusingly wild, dysfunctional character, yet always engaging, including his unique philosophies and perspectives of “living 2-lives large.” Seems like an odd yet appropriate metaphor for many like him, at the middle stage of life; the notion of a premature passing before attaining old age seems genuinely preposterous.

Being a divorced (and abandoned,) single dad who raised 2 daughters alone while balancing different careers, (including a “surprise-gig” of chauffeuring U2 for their first Denver Redrocks concert,) managed to not just survive, but also to thrive in the face of dealing with everything that arrives for many un-prepared single parents who are thrown into such a daunting task.

Inside, are meaningful and useful “survivor’s tips” for people who are experiencing the effects of cancer that are a must read. For people who have or may experience cancer, are not the cancer, but that your body is experiencing the effects of cancer, and must be addressed as such.

A funny, enlightening story about an ordinary guy living an extraordinary life; a life of rewards and risks, including a harrowing experience piloting a small plane with a mechanical collapse that engages 3 terrified souls on board one murky night in the Rocky Mountains. A story that where many pilots are not as lucky as I was, and I couldn't help thinking at the time what it would be like having my passengers "come through me!"

Intriguing relations with family, friends, acquaintances and loves (including 4 marriages,) that imparted worldly philosophies and beliefs into me about life, love and humanity; both positive and well, not so positive as you will enjoy reading about, (or be shocked by!)

After surviving cancer, I embrace ALL experiences that I am blessed with, as well as the triumphs and the tribulations, and to gain the valuable knowledge, gratitude, and acceptance from those spiritual understandings.

As George Bernard Shaw once said, “Youth is wasted on the young.”

I am still a youth.

Thoughts, Meditations, Affirmations, and Ramblings

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff L. Jolin
• Release date: Sep 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301365425

Jeff L. Jolin

Being his family’s 1st born from Sioux City, Iowa circa 1955 Baby Boomer generation, Jeffrey matures and ascertains that he is “The Burnt Pancake” of his family; (after you burn the first one, the others turn out fine,) and he is the rebellious one, who “enlightens” family, friends and many loves, with his interesting “personalities” which illustrate a “collage” of expressions; of humor, encouragement and love, for all “Burnt Pancake” type people.Often misunderstood while growing up in the surreal nexus counterculture of the 1970's, with wild excesses, including spirited and salacious stories all the way though his life.Some Boomers never quite grow up, or fit in with the mainstream. Jeffrey Lee is an amusingly wild, dysfunctional character, yet always engaging, including his unique philosophies and perspectives of “living 2-lives large.” Seems like an odd yet appropriate metaphor for many like him, at the middle stage of life; the notion of a premature passing before attaining old age seems genuinely preposterous.Being a divorced (and abandoned,) single dad who raised 2 daughters alone while balancing different careers, (including a “surprise-gig” of chauffeuring U2 for their first Denver Redrocks concert,) managed to not just survive, but also to thrive in the face of dealing with everything that arrives for many un-prepared single parents who are thrown into such a daunting task.Inside, are meaningful and useful “survivor’s tips” for people who are experiencing the effects of cancer that are a must read. For people who have or may experience cancer, are not the cancer, but that your body is experiencing the effects of cancer, and must be addressed as such.A funny, enlightening story about an ordinary guy living an extraordinary life; a life of rewards and risks, including a harrowing experience piloting a small plane with a mechanical collapse that engages 3 terrified souls on board one murky night in the Rocky Mountains. A story that where many pilots are not as lucky as I was, and I couldn't help thinking at the time what it would be like having my passengers "come through me!"Intriguing relations with family, friends, acquaintances and loves (including 4 marriages,) that imparted worldly philosophies and beliefs into me about life, love and humanity; both positive and well, not so positive as you will enjoy reading about, (or be shocked by!)After surviving cancer, I embrace ALL experiences that I am blessed with, as well as the triumphs and the tribulations, and to gain the valuable knowledge, gratitude, and acceptance from those spiritual understandings.As George Bernard Shaw once said, “Youth is wasted on the young.”I am still a youth.Thoughts, Meditations, Affirmations, and Ramblings

Book preview

The Burnt Pancake

A Memoir

Jeff L. Jolin

Copyright © 2013 by Jeff L. Jolin

Smashwords Edition

fb.com/theburntpancake

Editor: Jonathan Starke

Cover Design/Photograph: Karl Pfeifer

eBook Formatting: Maureen Cutajar

In memory of my parents, Juanita and David,

and for my family and friends who touched this life of mine.

And to Donna, who put up with me for so long.

This is a chronicle filled with wisdom, laughter, entertainment, and inspiration, a simple book that carries a profound message. Bravo, Mr. Jolin!

—Tom LaRotonda, author of

The Four Elements of An Inspired Life and Only Love Is Real

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Getting the News No One Wants to Get

Chapter 2: Settling Into This New Second Life

Chapter 3: A Family’s Faulty History

Chapter 4: The Innocent Years

Chapter 5: Movin’ On Up, to the NorthSide

Chapter 6: Jackson Street Antics

Chapter 7: Hauntings and Other Craziness

Chapter 8: Quirks, Bats, and Summer Camp

Chapter 9: School Daze, Hard Lessons, Fun, and Trouble

Chapter 10: The Draft, Canada, and More Life Lessons

Chapter 11: Movin’ On Out, From the North Side

Chapter 12: Attempting a Performance Run as an Adult

Chapter 13: Performing As an Adult

Chapter 14: Another Marriage Ride

Chapter 15: Beauty, and Also the Beast

Chapter 16: Raising Cane and Two Kids Alone

Chapter 17: Terror at 10,000 Feet

Chapter 18: The Empty Nest

Chapter 19: The Wife

Chapter 20: Scorched Pancake People

Chapter 21: Religion and Ramblings

Chapter 22: A Father’s Goodbye and Limitation and Reduction

Prologue

The purpose of my book is to illustrate a collage of expressions of humor, encouragement, and love for all of the burnt pancake people out there, and with that in mind, I deem us as the distinction between regular people and the rest of us, the black sheep kind that usually do not fit into the vanilla variety, but more Neapolitan types.

This book possesses my perception of interesting stories packed into my 58 short, yet long years. Two lives lived seems like an appropriate metaphor for this baby boomer from Sioux City, Iowa. Many like me, at the middle stage of life, believe the notion of a premature passing before attaining old age seems preposterous. Indestructible comes to mind, almost the same feeling that never left my teen years. The it can’t happen to me syndrome. I can’t help wondering if I brought this on myself by over-extending my sometimes careless, reckless life-experiences.

In my many travels over the years, I share moments of colorful, humorous, diverse, and intriguing relations with family, friends, connections, and loves (including four marriages) who taught me worldly things about life, love, humanity (and humility)—the good and the bad. As I reminisce in my writings, I sometimes have regrets, but if I had favored a more humble existence, like sticking with one marriage, furthering my education, being less careless, or having a different awareness in general, I might have had a plain, vanilla experience (and a very boring manuscript). As George Bernard Shaw once said, Youth is wasted on the young. I am still a youth.

As I look back, I may have simply over-experimented and over-estimated my invincibility, yet managed to achieve a sense of balance at the same time. I came to a very stark reality after the discovery of my throat cancer, "Is this cancer, going to be my wrap party? I have a 50% rule metaphor that I sometimes use. It’s a rule synonymous with Murphy’s Law, that when I make certain critical" choices, chances are that the 50% pendulum more often than not favors Murphy, but with cancer, I learned to expect and attract only the good 50%, and survive this cancer experience through deep meditation and a spiritual faith (and applied science/medicine, of course).

After surviving cancer, I embrace all of my experiences even more, as well as my triumphs and my tribulations, and I try to learn something from all of my experiences, past and present. Dr. Roger Teel at Mile High Church once said to me that I am not my illness, but rather, a condition that my body is experiencing. My perceived 50% rule cancer challenge, however, did not go against my favor fortunately. I will never use, say, or apply that 50% rule ever again!

Chapter 1

Getting the News No One Wants to Get

I had been a buoyant individual before I ended up in that long line, checking in at a Denver Hospital, after all, that insidious growth on my tonsil didn’t look or feel right once I noticed it, and I had an eerie sense that this appointment was probably going to be a life changing episode.

I held on to Donna’s hand a bit tighter than usual, tighter than when I steadied her from a weak left-leg condition from Multiple Sclerosis. But this time she was steadying me. An uncomfortable wave of nausea overcame me as the elevator door opened, revealing alcohol- type hospital odors as my heart dropped its beating sensations into my stomach.

My blood pressure had never been regulated with any prescriptions, but on that day, I could feel pressure in my veins from the assumption of what might emanate from the doctor’s lips. As my appointment grew closer, my knees began to feel weak. The hands of a cheerful wall clock clicked off each second as my own hands began to sweat. I feared it was my turn to hear the devastating word that so many others hear every second of every day; cancer.

An attractive nurse measured and weighed me, then perched me high onto the exam chair which provided an epic view of a beautiful, warm, June afternoon in downtown Denver. The sun was glistening off the skyscrapers from the hospital’s top-floor view, overlooking the Rocky Mountain peaks. Something was going to befall me, a come to Jesus meeting which I had urgently scheduled, as a lump I had found, revealed something that was lurking deep in my throat on my left tonsil. From the physical size of it, I was surprised that I hadn’t noticed it earlier, an unfortunate find.

The anticipation was unbearable. I had researched how head and neck cancer could turn out to be one of the worst living cancers that anyone could experience. This, to me, was of cataclysmic order.

While I waited for the ENT Doctor, Donna and I had little conversation as I reflected on how I had perceived myself as a life-long culmination of possessing a relatively right state of being, thinking about all my life accomplishments and successes, family and friends, spiritual and meditative growth, meaningful relationships, lifetime goals and achievements along with conciliatory reflections and perceptions that I had finally arrived at a pinnacle point in my life—an AARP prime-time-baby-boomer at the tender age of 56. I was fortunate enough to be financially comfortable after many years of hard work. My mind shifted to anticipating the gratitude I would soon bestow on my care-giving partner Donna, as it would soon be time to switch care- giving roles.

The bad news was delivered to me by an attractive young dirty-blonde who was to become my new Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor named Trudy. Trudy was not a young name by today’s baby-naming standards, probably named after some relative of hers. As Dr. Trudy peered into my throat with her wooden tongue depressor, she retracted it as quickly as it went in. She tossed the flat piece of wood across the room into the trash can with bulls-eye accuracy as she must have done a thousand times before, and in a casual nod of her head, she placed her finger on her lower lip, then implicitly yet casually gazed off toward the skyscrapers and peaks, and said, Yup, it’s cancer alright

That the scary-looking growth on my left tonsil that was asymmetrical and extended down into my rear tongue area was unmistakably cancer, and to further traumatize me, she stated that I actually had a very rare form of the disease. If this news wasn’t bad enough, she pointed to some cancerous lymph node glands in my neck as well! That’s it, I’m dead.

I was not familiar with, nor did I ever anticipate that I would be seen for cancer of all things, especially since I was only in my mid-fifties. This just can’t be right, it has to be a bad dream! My racing mind began experiencing thoughts similar to one’s life flashing before them. I questioned: Did I bring this on by living the two lives that I proclaim for myself? Did I fly too close to the sun? Did my wings melt? Was this diagnosis the sum total of extreme living from a first-born Burnt-Pancake-rebel-child? I suddenly retreated to my childhood memories, finding myself in my parent’s living room in Sioux City Iowa. There I was, sitting with my TV tray in front of me eating a Swanson fried chicken TV dinner, compartmentalized, separating my peas from my cranberry dessert while watching an episode of Marcus Welby MD on our Sylvania mahogany console TV as he sensitively tells his patient,

I’m sorry, Mr. Jolin, I have some bad news, please sit down. I regret to tell you that …you have cancer. Dr. Trudy was just as direct, only in a 21st century Hippocratic fashion.

I remembered years earlier standing in a line somewhere, behind a man with a veil of gauze extending below his nose. The glimpse I caught under it horrified me— he had no jaw! At the time I thought, what a devastating birth defect, how could he even survive, marry, have children? I now realize that it was probably head and neck cancer. The good doctor told me that if I had waited for this thing to grow, that head and neck parts might have had to be removed. Whatever their plan was, I prayed and prayed hard, that treatment would be successful.

After that life-altering appointment, I was devoid of my ability to even drive home, or maintain any memorable conversation with Donna. A sense of shock and quiet had settled into both of our beings as we arrived home to sit on the living room couch together at our quiet lake home in West Denver.

There was an eerie silence in the house, at a time when Donna would normally be preparing dinner, and I would be doing some project around the house. Maybe she was waiting for me to form the first word, or make the first move, or hug, or have a good cry, or even throw a tantrum. Any of those emotions may be expected and even welcomed, but certainly laughter was not one of them. Not that evening anyway, and not for the next several days. It was all surreal.

That evening, I believed that I would actually face death and wondered what that would feel like. How bad would I suffer? Would I see my parents again in the afterlife? Will my long-estranged brother come and visit me? What will Donna do without me? Who will live here after I am gone? Who will she be with? I thought of my material possessions and a recent visit I had with someone who had lost their husband. There, Joe’s tools and motorcycle sat static in his garage, never to be used by him again. My diagnosis clarified feelings of death and loss for me.

That evening as we sat quietly together, I lingered on a mindless movie while clicking through the channels. I had priority over the remote that night, and maybe several upcoming days and even months ahead. I realized that I may be spending many hours in front of a TV or behind a self-help book or two. Nightmare on Elm Street was on, and Freddy Kruger appeared in the scene where his head penetrates through a latex-like wall just above the headboard, and I realized that thing in my mouth is what Freddy’s distorted head looked like. I had to get it out! But it was not to come out, as there were other plans for me. I fix things. It is the why and the how of my success. All I learned over the years had been put into practice by handily remodeling pretty much everything I came in contact with— homes, restaurants, boats, RV’s, motorcycles. I rarely subcontracted services from anyone. But this was something I couldn’t fix, and I was at the mercy of the medical staff. I had no choice other than to release all of my trust into their hands. They were now my subcontractors. I soon discovered that I had to refrain from internet searches about my cancer (as I was strictly told by Doctor Trudy, and she was right). These searches only exacerbated acute stressors of my situation, but it was too late, and I was already so fearful.

Although my DNA includes being a risk taker, I never risked being without health insurance, regardless of cost. The loss-contingency of massive medical claims against my rental investments were not prudent. I actually sold health insurance years earlier, and I had some faith practicing what I preached. I later laid claim that my Kaiser historic health records indicated that this condition I had should have been caught earlier, given my personal cancer-risk history over the years. I also notified my doctor (on record) of the tragic loss of both my parents due to cancer. My parents and I now had shared history. After two appeals, admonishment was useless. I considered myself a proxy Sampson against Goliath, but I lost in the end. They refused to grant my claim and appeals and I capitulated. I then blessed and released their final answer into the universe, as undue stress could no longer be a part of my existence.

I never pictured myself having a feeding tube protruding from my stomach like some kind of robot, to exist off a diet of liquid Pablum, nor did I visualize the chemo-drip injections of an expensive shortage of platinum- chemo (yes, the heavy-metal platinum) into my veins while Donna and I sat together for hours on end surrounded by sickly, vomiting, emaciated patients.

Being the son-of-a-beautician, I freaked at the thought of losing my Richard Gere hair, and shortly after my chemo- drip sessions, I began pulling clumps of the silver/white hair from the lower-rear of my head, but not the top or sides. I stopped pulling on it because I was starting to look like the cross-bred hillbilly kid from the Deliverance movie.

My whopping 33 high-beam radiation episodes began almost immediately after discovering the Freddie Kruger lump. I lied still as a fiberglass mesh-mask was formed over my face and shoulders and then lined up by a tattooed dot they drilled into the middle of my sternum. They fastened me down to what looked like a cadaver table, and I laid still for eleven minutes each appointment, five travel-days a week. It made me grateful for Mile High Church’s meditation and spirituality prayer-teachings I had acquired, which relaxed me through these arduous episodes.

As treatments of chemo and radiation raged on, I never realized what dramatic effects it would have on me, and frankly, I didn’t want to. When I eventually completed all the radiation treatments, my oncologist said that many patients take a break. I didn’t know any better, and I trudged along like a good soldier, thankfully, because he stated that moving onward was the best recipe for success. I became spiritually humbled, and I prepared and readied myself to navigate the stormy post-radiation/chemo side effects ahead of me. Ah…Life after cancer…

Donna had been experiencing the effects of M.S. since she discovered it in 1981, and I cared for her over the last several years as best as I could. I sometimes considered the thought of her death, and what that sorrow and hardship would do to me, but the tables had suddenly turned, and she was now my glorious caregiver, and it was me, now, who might be the partner that would precede her death.

Chapter 2

Settling Into This New Second Life

Some burnt pancake people live two lives, and I am one of them. Grasping the life-changing experience of cancer designates a point in one’s life that changes and alters the course of their personal history forever. If I was fortunate enough to survive it, I may hopefully live long enough to thrive it, for a second chance, with a rewarding, post-cancer existence that included altered mental and physical effects of a second life, as this survivor now moves into the history and chain of events of how all of this may have led to my serious medical condition.

I thought maybe this cancer experience had overtaken me because I was supposed to put everything on hold in my life, and to grasp onto the possibilities of what I should be doing for the next stage of my life, pending the potentially mortal outcome.

Donna and I affectionately call our 1942 Denver bungalow our mini mansion. The two of us remodeled it completely by ourselves. We even nicknamed our backyard Falling Waters because it has a twelve-foot waterfall, a pond, and a hot tub (which became useless to me with my feeding tube). There were no architectural plans or drawings for this place that has brought us so much peace. It was only a vision I had, and after it was completed, it was there, only to be glanced at whenever I walked by, as I left to pursue my daily American Dream. There weren’t many luxuries afforded to me while going through my cancer hell. I never realized that our Falling Waters Paradise would become my Falling Waters Rest Home!

I probably did what many people do when a contingent terminal diagnosis befalls them. I made the calls to immediate family and sent out broadcast emails to relatives, friends, tenants, and business contacts, and of course I Facebooked friends and relatives. I notified everyone of my impending doom, scratch that, my upcoming challenge that I would be facing. My notifications drew warm and even humorous responses. One former high school friend asked if I would leave him my Harley (on Facebook of all places). Other comments had finality-flavor. I felt as though I had written my own obituary already. Even visits from family and friends became less over time. I eventually had to rely on my own spiritual existence until I successfully reached the other side of my tribulation and enjoyed life again.

Whenever anyone came to visit me as I sat by the pond writing this book, I couldn’t help feeling a sense of closeness and kinship with them, which soon may be coming to an end, my end. I read an inspiring book called Racing in the Rain: My Life As A Dog that my airline pilot friend Tom loaned me. It is an inspiring cancer story narrated by a dog. Because of chemo brain, it took much longer than I expected composing my inspiring story, by recollecting, reviewing, and re-writing my life experiences, and saying at times, Did I really write that?

I soon realized that I was enjoying the fruits of my labor as I sat at that pond I created, all while missing out on summer activities at the lake. I felt the condition I had was a major misfortune for me, but I was grateful that it was not happening to me in the dead of winter. I disliked winter. Everything living withers and dies. It is nature. I was ready to wither. I was not ready to die.

Strangely, I was beginning to embrace my upcoming down time. Although I had previously been a busy guy, I actually felt that my life of lives was becoming complacent and without true purpose. How dare that I feel this way! I had set my career-compass a long time ago to achieve a place in life where I might be able to enjoy the fruits of my labor and live comfortably and securely, after achieving a status of becoming my own boss, and to retire at 49 with passive rental income, yet still be very active in maintaining and managing them without outside assistance. I tried and tested other endeavors as well. It all comes down to the fact that I just can’t sit still.

I had come to this point in my life, especially over the last eight years, of attaining a relatively comfortable way of living with nurtured understandings of acquired spirituality, good health, a loving partner, kids, family, friends, travel, adventures, and so much more after surviving my younger years of experimentation and self-indulgences.

My life-contentment was about to change now that I was into the autumn time period of my life. Like the four seasons, I strive to live them all, yet knowing I will eventually have to perish. I envision my mortality meter now in a much different perspective. I would gratefully like to exist into the winter passage of my life’s seasons.

So what do I do with myself now? The get well soon cards arrived. Donna opened and read them to me, hoping to cheer me up, even though I didn’t feel sick (yet). Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone until I actually got sick. I didn’t know the sickness time-frame, or what happens in the course of radiation and chemo. I had never been through this before. In my cathartic emails and calls, I affirmed to everyone that I am well. It’s what my spirituality taught me over the last fifteen years. I didn’t know any better, but the GWS cards stayed on that table, and would slowly cease to arrive.

The home we live in was bought thirteen years ago on a lake in the city of Denver. I have always felt the need to be near any body of water, and it’s why I designed such a lifestyle for myself (and nearly everyone else who chose to accompany me in a relationship). An oceanfront home would be ideal, but not very affordable in areas I would prefer, but, never say never. I only live (twice) and I am on number two.

Before I received my bad news, I began thinking more about this life of mine. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to acquire another investment property to remodel and rent (and for anyone interested in this type of entrepreneurial endeavor, don’t believe what Carlton Sheets says). The harsh reality for anyone entertaining rental investments as a career is that it is simple, but not easy. You must have the knowledge, know- how, tools, and time to do just about everything that needs to be done to make rental investing profitable, and that means throwing practically everything (money-wise) at the loans to pay them off as soon as possible.

After the adventure of enduring throat cancer, I am still unclear if I want to initiate any more remodeling endeavors. I had a heavy dose of environmental contact from toxins and chemicals that I ingested into my lungs and skin over many years. (So this must have caused my cancer!).

Over the last seven years, Donna and I had experienced exciting, adventurous plans by removing ourselves from the cold winter months of Colorado. We had been renting our fully-furnished home to perfect strangers we sought on Craigslist. We offered our home for three months at a time while we morphed into snowbirds and headed south in our large Airstream Bus. When the diagnosis was leveled, I knew that I had to beat this monster and entertain the possibilities of leaving again. I had already missed spring and summer fun only to mitigate endless doctor, chemo, and radiation treatments and countless hours of suffrage on the bed, couch, and even outdoor furniture.

My mortality was poking at me. I even had thoughts of getting well again after all of this and renting our home out to others full time and living a gypsy-like RV lifestyle. We’ve met people