Steve’s Story

Site created on July 24, 2019

On April 16th 2018,   Steve went missing.  He had been acting different and although I saw it, and was concerned, I tried to play it off.    For seven and a half hours we searched and prayed.   After we found him safe, but confused, we knew we needed to act.     I took him to the local ER the next morning  expecting them to tell me I was over reacting.   When  I heard the news that there were tumors in his chest and in his brain and they were most likely cancerous, it devastated me.      


As I called family and friends to let them know ,  an amazing thing happened.   The sorrow in my heart was replaced by gratitude for all the amazing family and friends who came together to help us, to pray with us and to feed us!  Ever since that day,  Steve has battled .  We have strong faith and a wonderful community that is helping us with each step.  This has meant the world to all of us. 


  Steve   completed some really cool cyber knife. Radiation, targeted gene therapy, old fashioned chemo and  then a new type of gene therapy.   We have had some really great days and some really hard days, but Steve keeps fighting.     We were very lucky in that even after a very hard day at Georgetown Medical Center when they told us that the cancer would probably take Steve in a matter of months, he was stable for  seven months of  brain scans.      We were able to  graduate from our hospice care nurse and started to plan our summer activities. 


On June 25,. Steve had a seizure, and even though the doctors at Shock Trauma  told us everything looked fine, our amazing neurologist wanted to see for herself.   The MRI Steve had last week showed the tumors in his brain (the gremlins). Are on the move.. they are growing again and changing shape.   Next week we will begin whole brain radiation 


It is a bitter sweet moment when doctors and office staff move mountains to get appointments made and fast forward an aggressive treatment program. We are now being taken care of here in Southern  Maryland , and the team in Charlotte hall  has been wonderful in helping us plan our new attack.  Also since our  commute  to radiation is less than an hour and without all the beltway craziness,  this feels a little less scary.   


I will try to use this page to keep everyone updated on his battle.   We appreciate the prayers and love that come our way every day. 


Charron 

Newest Update

Journal entry by Charron Dean

Those Strong Hands

Written in Memory of Stephen Patrick Dean, Sr.

 

Last night I read the news that a long-time friend had passed after a protracted battle with cancer. My heart grew heavy with grief and sympathy for his family. I spent a few minutes thinking about the memories we had enjoyed together as our sons grew up friends. After thinking quietly for a brief time I realized that most of my memories somehow involved Steve’s hands; hands I perceived as strong, tough and capable. The thought consumed me. Steve expressed who he was by doing. His hands were the tools with which he worked, cared, gave and so much more. I will do my best to share my thoughts but I doubt I will do justice to the memory of a great man.

Those were the strong hands of a young man who enlisted in the Army and served as a Military Police officer.

They were the strong hands that both offered service to the troops and enforced law among those same troops.

Those were the strong hands of a husband.

They were the strong hands that held close the woman he loved.

They were the strong hands that offered comfort when life seemed heavy.

They were the strong hands that offered consolation and support when the children just seemed to be a bit too much.

They were the same strong hands that brought smiles and pleasure to his wife when she crazily thought that maybe another child wouldn’t be so bad.

They were the strong hands that provided for the family he and his wife built together, growing and flourishing in the love they shared.

Those were the strong hands of a father.

They were the strong hands that so gently held a newborn child, cradling a new life.

They were the strong hands that protected that life, worked for sustenance and provided care to that child.

They were the strong hands that provided guidance, offered supported and enforced discipline as that child grew into adulthood.

Those were the strong hands of a grandfather.

They were the strong hands that held infants with knowledge and experience.

They were the strong hands that offered assistance to new parents and demonstrated invaluable parenting skills.

They were the strong hands that entertained, performed tricks, and taught experiences brought greater value because they were taught by granddad.

Those were the strong hands of a capable hard worker.

They were the strong hands that handled tools with surety.

They were the strong hands that performed tasks without complaint of discomfort even as they displayed callouses and scars from the years of such use.

They were the strong hands of a hard worker who approached each job with motivation no matter how he felt that day or how mundane the job might seem. It was important to someone and he gave each task the value that ‘someone’ felt it required.

Those were the strong hands of a coach and mentor.

They were the strong hands that patted players’ backs as they hustled out onto the field.

They were the strong hands that lifted fallen players up, brushed them off and got them back in the game.

They were the strong hands that carried gear to and from, back and forth, insuring the team had what it needed to perform at its best.

Those were the strong hands of charitable man.

They were the strong hands that lifted tools and performed tasks to help neighbors – and darned near anyone else who asked for assistance.

They were the strong hands that lifted, put on display and sold countless Christmas trees in support of the local sports teams, without complaint for all the needle scraps and pokes others would cringe at.

They were the strong hands that took notes and expressed thoughts as he volunteered his presence, advice and values on several committees in support of companies and communities.

Those were the strong hands of a good man.

They were the strong hands that reached down to help others up.

They were the strong hands that offered a pat on the back for a job well done.

They were the strong hands that held the suffering and offered comfort.

They are the strong hands now cradled in the even stronger hands of our Lord.

 

Heaven is surely better off for the presence of Stephen’s strong hands.

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