By Lynn Venhaus
A little history from this day, May 23: On this date in 1959, the show “Wrestling at the Chase” made its debut on KPLR (Ch. 11); it ran for 24 years.

In 1934, a law enforcement posse ambushed and killed Depression gangsters Bonnie and Clyde in Gibsland, Louisiana, ending a two-year crime spree that left 12 dead.

In 1980, Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining” opened.  In 1969, The Who released “Tommy,” the first rock opera. In 2010, ABC drama “Lost” aired its finale after six seasons.

And in 2013, Charlie Venhaus was declared in complete remission from his rare, aggressive, t-cell, non-Hodgkins’s lymphoma after nearly seven months from diagnosis, then treatment with both chemotherapy and radiation. Cancer free! And it has not come back.

Can I get a Hallelujah? It was brutal, and I felt helpless, but his strength, everyone’s support and the incredible health care teams lifted us through a very dark time.

It’s always a good day to remember this milestone, even if it’s very late. Always must mark today in family history because it means a lot, and with each advancing year, its meaning is deeply felt. What a journey it has been.

We are forever grateful to family, (Venhauses and Zipfels, and more), his co-workers, my co-workers, colleagues, all our tribes, neighbors, acquaintances, Charlie’s Brooklyn pals, Foley’s gang, his advertising company, old friends, new friends, classmates. It meant so very much.

No one fights alone, and he/we were blessed with so much love, prayers, and good mojo – angels among us. Of course, we dubbed you all “Charlie’s Angels.” And you were – and are.

Friends who accompanied him to doctor appointments, sat with him when he was too weak to do anything but lie in bed, who made meals, took him for a ride in the fresh spring air, called, came by, so many acts of generosity and concern. People who asked me how he was every time I saw them.

I realize not everyone is so fortunate, and the list of friends and relatives who’ve lost cancer battles gets longer every year. What a struggle so many have endured bravely. I thought telling our 70-year-old mom to let go in 2001 after her courageous battle with lung cancer would be the toughest time of our lives, but other challenges would be ahead.

I celebrate Charlie as a superhero and a fighter throughout his life — but I also must always recognize the superhero doctors and nurses – forever grateful for those staffs at Beth Israel Hospital in New York City and Siteman Cancer Center in St. Louis who took such good care of him. Everyone we encountered were truly compassionate, caring experts.

We started out very scared on this uncharted course in December 2012. Charlie called with the news on Dec. 3 that he wasn’t having outpatient surgery for polyps in his nose, that it was instead a malignant tumor. Charlie thought he had a sinus infection that wasn’t going away. A sharp ENT Dr. Madeleine Schaberg noticed something that wasn’t quite right — ordered a biopsy, and yep – cancer. Because of her early diagnosis, she helped save his life.

I traveled to NYC for his consulting doctor appointments — we saw six doctors in three days. I took many notes to share with his dad Bob Venhaus, calling him after each visit. When doctors in New York City tell you that they have never seen this cancer in a young white male, well then, you know you are in for one tough ride. He was 24.

According to the American Cancer Society, only 1 percent of people in their 20s get cancer (4 percent under 40 total!),

Charlie called it another bump in the road, and went through it with a ‘keep on keeping on’ attitude even when it was awful. Inspiring. He doesn’t like a lot of fanfare, but what a champ.

Nurse Practitioner Cathy Concert, left, and Dr. Kenneth Hu, at right. Cathy told us that it was so important that I was there, that Charlie had a lot of support. Attitude was also key.

They treated it very aggressively. He was among only 12 percent of lymphoma patients who get both chemo and radiation, and it flattened him, but wow, he fought back hard.

Radiation started in January 2013 at Beth Israel in NYC, 35 treatments. By Friday, Jan. 18, he was so debilitated, he would not be able to work. On Monday night, he called me, and it was clear he needed a caregiver, so I went to Brooklyn, stayed three weeks. At his doctor appointment with him, Dr. Hu had told him: “We’re really worried about you.” He had what appeared to be second degree burns in his throat, and thrush. He was so miserable. They upped his meds.

Then, his dad came to stay a week, and in March, Tim used his spring break week to take care of Charlie and be there for this first chemo treatment. He did not do well, for his body wasn’t ready for it.

The plan was three rounds of chemotherapy (each 3-day 8-hour infusions, followed by one day booster shot). After the one in NYC, and after Tim’s report of how infirmed he was, his dad and I talked about temporarily moving him home so we could have our families and his friends help. We coordinated a move between the doctors there and Siteman — NYC was on board with him being home and wanted Siteman to follow their treatment plan, as since this was the first time dealing with it, they basically were ‘guessing,’ and Siteman was fine with all of this. He came home March 28, and they were able to fit him in for the other two without too much delay.

When Dr. Nancy Bartlett (who told us they had only seen this kind in one young white male about a year before Charlie!) gave us the good news the afternoon of May 23, 2013, that became the best red-letter day ever. I am hopeful that because of Charlie’s case success, they could better treat others down the road.

Charlie had lost 34 pounds and all his hair. He returned to Brooklyn in June, went back to work as a media strategist weeks later, at first part-time, then eased back into a normal routine. His advertising company, PHD Media (a division of Omnicom) was absolutely wonderful to him).

He had wondered aloud if he would ever again get back to normal. But his healing was truly remarkable.

Doctors said that if it didn’t return within two years, he should be in the clear. We could finally breathe at the five-year “survivor” mark, and he ran in the NYC Marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society on Nov. 4, 2018.

Outstanding oncologists Dr. Kenneth Hu and Dr. Ilan Shapira kept a watchful eye on him at regular tests/check-ups in NYC, but now he’s no longer a patient. Dr. Hu was a lymphoma survivor when he was a young teen.

To see what he has overcome, and become, is truly a remarkable and wondrous thing. I marvel at our minds, bodies and spirit — the healing powers that are present. Early detection and good medical care are factors, too.

There is no rhyme or reason to life sometimes, and when it knocks you down, you must get back up. We don’t know how long we get, so we might as well live life to the fullest while we can. Every day is a gift. Charlie has embraced that attitude with gusto. He continues to be resilient and determined. We can never know what the future holds, but we can move on one day at a time with optimism, grace and humility. And be there for each other.

The outpouring of affection for my son and our family is very humbling. Please know it mattered, and we noticed. And if we can help anyone else with hope and healing, we are here for you. Let’s work on ending this Big-C. Too many loved ones suffer. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

#Neverevergiveup.

Cover photo: Mother’s Day 2013, Giant City Water Tower in Makanda, Ill. Tim had just graduated from SIU-Carbondale the day before, and we went to the Lodge for Mother’s Day dinner. We climbed up the water tower afterwards.