What’s New

Barbara’s story

Here I am, sitting in my lime-green office surrounded by thick woods and snow-covered grass. Temps are in the twenties and even Spokes the cat isn’t tempted to wander outdoors.

I have a big story to share. Pull up your favorite chair and grab a warm cup of Joe or your best tea. This is both a tear jerker and a love story filled with warmth and relief.

No one ever wants to hear the word that changed our lives. It makes your body tremble. It spells enormous change, fear, and unbelievable love. Once the news of this word is made public, a stream of friends and family appear, offering help. But, you don’t know what help is needed. You have always been that person everyone else turns to. This is a place you have never experienced. Some innocently share terrible stories that haunt you like a Halloween movie. Most give words of wisdom, compassion and comfort.

Nights seem dreadfully long. As you lie quietly, anxiety sets in, creating dark thoughts in a zone that’s filled with angst. A racing heart translates to no sleep.
This word can’t cross your lips without tears. This word triggers emotions while checking out at the supermarket, at the bank, the hairdresser and even the gym. Bam, the face blushes and trickles of warm tears flow into a storm splashing onto rosy-red cheeks. This word is best kept silent deep within your soul. It makes you vulnerable. You may think it shows weakness. But one thing it does bring out is the most amazing feelings of love, admiration and strength you never knew you had.

OK, some of you are aware of the year Mel and I have shared. But let me tell you, unless you have sadly walked in our bike shoes or pedaled our path, you don’t really know.

We had just returned from four weeks of the most amazing New Zealand experience. After riding 500 miles, mostly on gravel and rocks, we were in the absolute best physical shape. The group and our guides bonded instantly, we pedaled, laughed, sipped wine together and were treated to the most beautiful and best-tasting gastronomical delights found in the South Island. After returning home things seemed normal, with work and responsibilities that owning businesses present.

And then this six-letter word made our extremely happy active lives come to a screeching halt: Mel has tonsil CANCER. And as if that weren’t enough, he also has prostate CANCER!

Where do you start? What do you do? How do you comfort the fear you both feel? How do we tell the family? How will our lives change? Sure, you pray that he survives and is not in too much discomfort. But come on people, we all know those who have gone through something similar. Some made it and some did not.
Together we made a decision to stay focused, keep positive and turn this into something better and bigger.

We were sent to MD Anderson at Cooper Hospital in Camden, NJ where every test imaginable was performed. It was decided to have the tumor removed. While Mel was knocked out, the surgeon who had the angelic face of a twelve-year-old, found me in the waiting area. His news was not good. If he continued with the procedure, Mel would never, I say NEVER eat or speak again.

My life stopped. I was stunned. My dear friend Michele, a doctor, was with me. She stared into my eyes with a silent message. I asked to call our son who conferred that Mel would not want to live if he could not speak or eat. We all know how Mel has the gift of gab. I told the doctor to stop the surgery and guide me on what would be next.

After lots of tests, Mel finally started both chemotherapy and radiation until the end of the summer.

Each morning started before the sun came up in preparation for a one-hour, five-day-a-week regimen traveling to the cancer center. Mel would not give into this horrible disease. Although he struggled to eat, somehow he managed to slowly sip protein drinks and eat cream of wheat topped with ricotta cheese and cooked fruit for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In addition to Tandems East, Mel has owned and operated another business for fifty-eight years. He is boss to approximately thirty-five people who count on him to keep going. There was no alternative. Mel had to have strength.

We continued cycling every Sunday until he couldn’t. For the first time in our lives everything stopped to allow the body to rest. He amazed our team of four doctors, our dietician and all the others at the cancer center who admired his strength.

Mel made sure to give back by bringing garden vegetables that he cultivated and cared for. We stopped at local farms to get crates of peaches, apples and sweet potatoes. Each morning he greeted patients and staff with a cheery welcome while pushing a grocery cart around the hospital handing out his fresh fruit and vegetables to the doctors, janitors, greeters, office help and fellow patients. Those who were extremely ill mustered up smiles as he handed out the goodies. They nick-named him Mr. Peaches.

You may think this is all too strange, but the truth is when Mel gives of himself he feels better. Our business graphic designer and our son Jed designed a cycling jersey named Radioactive Man. Many purchased them knowing that all proceeds were donated to the MD Anderson Cooper Foundation. As I write this we are about to end a second fundraiser selling a Radioactive Man t-shirt. To date we have donated more than $2,500 in honor of Mel.

Although there were limits, we continued to attend and sell at several events. Your smiles and hugs helped Mel heal and realize he could not give in.
He showed up to support my Evelyn Hill Cycling Club rides, pumped up our tires and maintained our bikes. Tandem customers came and were treated to the same Mel we all have known for years. He chatted the best he could when his voice became hoarse from the illness. He never stopped smiling, even in his darkest moments.

The weeks crawled by and treatments grew intense as they did their work. Thankfully, Mel’s tonsil cancer is in remission. The doctors say a lot of the success is because he has always cycled and stayed in shape. They called it money in the bank.

Mel never stopped working. Once his daily treatment was completed, he went directly to work his day job and returned in the evening to work Tandems East.
Now we have completed twenty-eight more radiation zaps for the prostate cancer. In three months we believe Mel’s scans will prove all this was worth the pain and many sacrifices.

We’ve booked a tandem trip in the spring and plan to go forward with the lives we shared with all of you. We will be at events around the country. We will ride our tandem more miles in 2025. We will serve both Tandems East and Evelyn Hill Cycling customers with even greater enthusiasm.

No one knows what tomorrow brings. We know where we have been and who has traveled that path with us. Your cards, emails and phone calls of concern helped more than you know. You all are a part of our journey. It is you who gives us a positive purpose and the strength to keep going.

Thank you,
Barbara

Two of our favorite customers, Franklin and Esther, have been touring the Netherlands on their DaVinci S&S coupled tandem.