How a Tumor Is Changing My Life

After reviewing my case, Friedman said a resection -- that is, a removal of the tumor -- was possible by surgery. He performed a similar operation this summer on Sen. Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts.

In today's world, it is up to the "informed patient" to make many decisions affecting treatment. My dear friend Bob Shrum, the Democratic political operative, asked Sen. Kennedy's wife, Vicki, to call me. I barely know Mrs. Kennedy, but I have found her to be a warm and gracious person. I have had few good things to say about Teddy Kennedy since I first met him at the 1960 Democratic National Convention, but he and his wife have treated me like a close friend. She was enthusiastic about Dr. Friedman and urged me to opt for surgery at Duke.

The Kennedys were not concerned by political and ideological differences when someone's life was at stake, recalling at least the myth of milder days in Washington. My long conversation with Vicki Kennedy filled me with hope.

The irony of my going to Duke to save my life can only be appreciated by somebody who knows that I am a fanatical University of Maryland basketball fan with no use for the Duke Blue Devils and their student basketball fans.

The ingenious taunts by the students at Duke's Cameron Indoor Stadium are usually directed against opposing players, but I have also been the target of the "Cameron Crazies." During my last visit there to watch a game won by Maryland, students raised a placard with two pictures: one of Benedict Arnold and one of me. "Two Traitors," said the sign.

But I was treated with immense courtesy and skill by the Duke neurosurgical team. Friedman operated on me for more than four hours on Aug. 15, removing a 3-by-1.5-inch tumor. Of course, cancer cells remain, requiring a rigorous regimen of radiation and chemotherapy.

Journalist Al Hunt, who has become a close friend despite our disagreeing about almost everything, says it will be very difficult for me to inveigh against Duke in the future. I believe he is correct.

I am now home in Washington, awaiting further therapy. Dr. Friedman recommended that I try to get back to at least parts of my normal life, which is part of the reason I composed this piece.

My brain cancer has cost me not only my left peripheral vision but nearly all my left vision, probably permanently. Several people have asked whether the person I hit was crossing in front of me on my left. I answer, "I never saw him."

Though angry bloggers profess to take delight in my distress, I feel no need to pay them attention in the face of an outpouring of goodwill. I thought 51 years of rough-and-tumble journalism in Washington had made me more enemies than friends, but my recent experience suggests the opposite may be the case.

Support for me and promises of prayers have poured in from all sides, including from political figures who had not been happy with my columns. I'm told that George W. Bush has not liked my criticism, particularly of his Iraq war policy. But the president is a compassionate man, and he telephoned me at 7:24 a.m. on Aug. 15, six minutes before I went into surgery. The conversation lasted only a minute, but his prayerful concern was touching and much appreciated.

Thanks to my tumor, I probably never will be able to drive again, and I have sold the Corvette, which I dearly loved. Taking away my typewriter, however, may require modification of the First Amendment.

© 2008 Creators Syndicate Inc.