As some of you know, during my 12-week appointment last November, my OB found a nodule on my thyroid while he was doing a routine checkup. He advised me to get it checked out. A biopsy in December came back as suspicious, which simply meant that the doctor couldn't rule out cancer. However, nothing was urgent enough to do anything about the results at that point. After Maya was born, I had another biopsy that came back suspicious; luckily, the nodule did not grow at all during those 6 months. With two suspicious biopsies, we made the decision to remove the nodule and half of my thyroid. I had that surgery on Saturday. It was a pretty routine surgery that entailed me spending the night in the hospital. My recovery has been relatively pain-free with just a small incision on my neck; I have been more uncomfortable than anything else. However, the biopsy results came back this morning (Wednesday), and unfortunately, the nodule was malignant. I have follicular thyroid cancer, which is the second most common type of thyroid cancer (it accounts for about 15% of cases) and is highly treatable. It is not the best type of thyroid cancer, but it is far from the worst. At some point in the next month, I will have surgery again to remove the rest of my thyroid as well as some of the surrounding lymph nodes. I have an appointment on Tuesday morning to determine the date of the surgery as well as to do some more tests to determine if the cancer has spread. Even if the cancer has spread, the odds of a complete recovery are very high (about 90%). The most common treatment is surgery combined with a dose of radioactive iodine, which seems fairly easy and painless (physically –not emotionally as I possibly would have to stay isolated from Maya for a number of days). Hopefully, the cancer is contained and we won’t have to go that route, but it is a possibility.
On Saturday, about five minutes after Katie’s doctor told me he removed half of her thyroid, Marshall called to tell me that our good friend Dom passed away. In the midst of preparing for Katie’s new battle with thyroid cancer, we honored the end of Dom’s. On Friday afternoon, Katie, Maya, and I took a Southwest flight to L.A. to celebrate Dom’s life. The article by Herb Benham that ran the day after the ceremony is posted below. I said a few words at the celebration to honor Dom, expressed my deep sadness, remembered the marathon we ran together last spring, and joked about how I looked more like the cancer patient that Dom did. Here are some pictures from the weekend:
Dom's celebration was held at our old elementary school.
Marshall gave an eloquent eulogy and my brother compiled a memorable slide show. Dom's art was all over the cafeteria.
In Dom's honor, we partied hard back at my parents house with old friends. Katie reminisces with Dom's sister, Amy.
Matt, Jessica, Scoob (Dom's girlfriend) and I played around with Dom's picture. He would have wanted us to laugh and be silly.
We laughed and cried a lot.
And even my mom threw back a 40 oz. in Dom's honor.
After a long night of celebrating, Maya and her great-grandmother spent some quality time together. Initially skeptical, if not weirded out by her first interaction with an octegenerian, Maya eventually warmed up.
Her smile was so important to us this week.
Sometimes, life happens. This week, life happened in a big way.
Herb Benham: Cancer patient truly lived like he was dying
Don, Dominic and Jane Ambriz. Dominc, 28, died Sunday after a 31-month bout with brain cancer.
Dominic Ambriz at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. His mother, Jane, is in the background.
A childhood photo of Dominic being held by his mother, Jane.
Dominic with childhood friends Larkin and Benji Tackett.
Dominic with his niece, Madison, and sister, Amy.
Larkin Tackett, left, and Dominic Ambriz in Albuquerque.
He did until he could bring it no more. Then it was up to the people who loved him, and they were legion.
“To-day, the road all runners come,
“Shoulder-high we bring you home.”
Dominic Ambriz died Aug. 16 after a 31-month fight with glioblastoma multiforme brain cancer, an aggressive disease.
He grew up in our downtown neighborhood and went on to become one of the rising young toy designers at Mattel. His parents — Don and Jane — could have given lessons in how to raise kids. Other parents admired their cool — especially during the teenage years when many of us were either freaking out or popping corks — and most of Dominic’s and his sister Amy’s friends would have put themselves up for adoption had they known they would end up in the Ambriz family.
I heard the news at LAX via text. That’s how news comes these days.
Dominic’s fight was over. The incredible struggle that had amazed his friends and confounded the doctors who had predicted a steeper decline and an earlier passing had come to an end. Patients diagnosed with GBM, as it’s known, struggle to live 18 months. Dominic lived almost twice that long.
He was surrounded by friends. Scoob, his loyal girlfriend, had signed on after he had been diagnosed.
His parents, Don and Jane. All parents love their children, but some are put to the test. During the final lap, they slept by his bedside in a cot for 60 of his last 62 days.
To say Dominic Ambriz was a fighter is like saying Lake Tahoe is blue. It’s blue, but it’s even bluer than you think.
After he was diagnosed with cancer, Dominic did the following things:
Completed the Mud Run in Bakersfield, finished a half marathon in La Jolla and two triathlons in San Luis Obispo, a full marathon in Albuquerque, lifted more weights than the Chinese woman who won the Olympics and went back to work as a toy designer for Mattel, his beloved company, whose president fought for his medical care and paid for it at the end.
Dominic also wrote and illustrated a second book for his niece, which followed the first one, “Madison the Fearless.”
No one with a brain tumor looked better and accomplished more. Dominic forced his healthy friends to re-evaluate their programs and mothball their excuses.
If anybody is worried about this 20-something generation, they shouldn’t be. His friends rallied and did so in the way that his generation does. Led by his longtime friend Marshall Coyle, they set up a Web site that delivered the updates, rallied the troops and stoked the love and collective will of everybody in his circle.
Given Dominic’s strength and fortitude, the tag line for the site was “Bring It!”
“I had asked him if he was up for the treatments that he had just described to me,” Coyle said. “He said, ‘Yeah, as long as I have my boys, bring it.’”
We knew Dominic’s parents when they lived in Bakersfield and owned Earthworm Studios.
Don was a gifted calligrapher and graphic artist when people were still drawing by hand. Jane framed pictures. Dominic created our annual haunted house in the neighborhood (always including the younger kids in the construction), made masks for Halloween and eventually helped create the Pixel Girl and the Plush Toys for Mattel. His sister, gentle, beautiful Amy loved children and made working with them seem like art.
More than anything, the Ambriz family was close. Not much could pry them apart.
“While in college, Dom was sitting in a child psyche class — the topic was effects of childhood,” said his father, Don.
“They went around the room and fellow student after student talked about what an unhappy childhood they all had. Dom was really taken aback. He said, ‘Are you kidding me? I had a great childhood!’”
BHS led to the Otis Art Institute which led to five satisfying years at Mattel. Dominic made an impression there, not only with work, but with little kindnesses that make work bearable.
“The most inspirational thing Dom did for me was that he drew this little football player and it read “who R U callin small”, after I had my son who was only 1lb 8oz,” wrote fellow designer Tina Atkins.
“I kept that drawing hung in my son’s isolation room the entire four months that he was in the hospital. That drawing (which probably took him five minutes to draw since we all know how talented he is) provided me such joy and inspiration during a very difficult time in my life.”
Saturday, a celebration of Dom’s life was planned for the cafeteria at Franklin School.
Dominic was a student there, and his father designed the marquee in front of the school using his son’s tow head as inspiration. Like Dominic, it probably took Don about five minutes to illustrate it.
For Saturday’s celebration, the marquee read: “Dominic Ambriz Bring It!”
Dominic was 28. He never gave up. Never stopped bringing it.
Now it’s up to the rest of us.
