Having a Blast, Despite Shattered Dreams

Having a Blast, Despite Shattered Dreams

Vernon Gibbs dreamed of leaving York, Pa., to become a travel guide in Myrtle Beach, S.C., where the tourists abounded and the weather was warmer, and he could walk along the Atlantic Ocean. Then, in spring 2003, a diagnosis of prostate cancer ruined everything.

“That’s when everything went kaput,” he says.

Gibbs, who recently turned 50, chose radiation therapy instead of surgery, and by the end of summer 2003, his cancer was in remission.

That September, though, he began feeling agonizing pain in his urethra and rectum. His doctor told him the radiation had destroyed his prostate and burned a hole into his rectum. As a result, urine leaked into his bowel movements, causing painful ulcers, inflammation and an infection to develop.

Gibbs’ health problems kept him from working, and he eventually lost both of his jobs, one as a travel counselor and another as a part-time school custodian. He spent all of his retirement savings on medical bills and risked losing his home. With no money left, his Myrtle Beach plan fell apart.

Then, things got worse.

“I was lying in a hospital bed in York, when my doctor said, ‘Vern, we can’t find anyone to fix you,’” Gibbs recalls. “That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

Eight months passed before Gibbs’ doctors found Hopkins colorectal surgeon Susan Gearhart and Bayview urological surgeon Jamie Wright, who work together on two or three such cases every year. In May 2004, after a two-week hospital stay in York, Gibbs was transferred to Hopkins.

Gearhart diagnosed a fistula, a rare side effect of radiation therapy in which a tunnel forms between two typically unconnected organs—in Gibbs’ case, between his rectum and urethra. “You could do a rectal exam and actually feel Vernon’s bladder,” she says. “It’s a terrible quality of life and very painful.”

Between May 2004 and January 2005, Gibbs underwent three surgeries to restore his bowel and urinary function, including the removal of his rectum, which Gearhart replaced with a portion of his colon. Meanwhile, Wright closed off his bladder opening and created a new drainage channel that allows Gibbs to empty his bladder using a catheter. “They basically had to re-plumb me just about everywhere,” Gibbs says.

During his time at Hopkins, Gibbs became something of a fixture in the hospital. Nurses confided their problems to him, and he was on a first-name basis with the security guards. Gearhart and Wright say his optimism and cheerfulness helped his recovery.

That positive attitude is coming in handy once again. Gibbs now lives on disability, and with such a small income, his dream of moving to Myrtle Beach looks impossible. Still, he says, life is good.

“Compared to three years ago, I’m having a blast,” he says. He’s regained much of the weight he lost during his illness, and he travels whenever he can, most recently to Key West, Fla. Last Christmas, he played Santa Claus for a group of neighborhood children. Now he’s thinking of starting a rock band.

Best of all, when he was no longer able to afford his mortgage, Gibbs’ best friend purchased his home and allowed him to keep living there. “When that happened, I just about cried. Actually, I did cry,” he recalls. “I can’t believe how nice people are.”