A Brush With Death and a First Novel
This commentary originally appeared in the Wall Street Journal, “A Brush With Death and a First Novel,” by Richard Dooling. I was 34 in July 1988—a lawyer living in St. Louis. I was at my desk, leaning back in my swivel chair, hands folded on top of my head, when I felt a rough spot on my scalp. Probably that old scar I got running under the swing set when I was a kid, I thought. A few days later I was sitting across the table from an oncologist who told my wife, Kristy, and me that I had melanoma of the scalp and an 8% chance of living five years. We had a son and a daughter, both under 2. “Actually it’s probably less than 8%,” the doctor said as he showed me a bar graph from a recent study. “We see satellite lesions, meaning the cancer has probably already spread.” A week later, a surgeon put me under and scalped me. The doctors sent the lesion to three different experts who would get back to us in a few weeks. For almost a month, I woke up every night at 3 a.m. and felt cancer spreading through my […]