Reprinted from the Winter 1999 edition of "The Minnie Page"
Miracles Do Happen: Just ask Rusty Wilcoxen
Rusty Wilcoxen was Minnie Pearl's producer for several years. His talent for directing and producing helped make the most of Minnie Pearl's antics for audiences; he made Minnie's comedy come to life on television.
Rusty Wilcoxen was Sarah Cannon's friend. While he helped craft her character's humor for television, Sarah Cannon was helping craft his character in life. Rusty had the privilege of truly knowing Sarah Cannon. He was eyewitness to her sincerity, intelligence and thoughtfulness. He had the honor of being on the receiving end of her big, genuine smile.
Rusty was Sarah's friend before and after her diagnosis with cancer. As a strong testimonial to her depth of character, Rusty will tell you he saw little change in Sarah after the reality of cancer. She had always been grateful for life, and cancer only deepened that appreciation.
Ironically, after years of directing the comedy of Minnie Pearl, Rusty faced the greatest personal drama of his life under the helpful direction and influence of Sarah Cannon. By observing the character of the woman who was known for her onstage character, Rusty would be inspired to face his own cancer with determination. Because of her generous dedication to cancer research, Rusty would have a life-saving resource for treatment at home - in Nashville.
Rusty's drama began in 1993 with a fairly ordinary doctor's visit. At first they said they found gallstones and would need to get rid of them. But later that day, Rusty was sitting across from a stone-faced physician who was telling him that he had cancer - pancreatic cancer.
A crash course in pancreatic cancer will teach you that very few survive this type of malignancy. Several thousands of cases are diagnosed yearly - more than stomach cancer, less than breast or lung cancer. It basically takes a miracle to survive pancreatic cancer because it can go undetected for so long. By the time it's discovered, it's too late.
Rusty was fitting the profile. As a matter of fact, the doctor said Rusty was so critical that "organs were dying" and that he must have a "huge operation" that would give him a "50-50 chance to live through the operation only." The doctor was ready to schedule; Rusty's status was so bleak that there was literally no time to even think about options.
This is where Rusty's stubborn nature came into play. They told him he didn't have time to think; he showed them. He went home to mull things over.
He didn't go home just to be ornery. He really wanted to think about all this. As Rusty saw it, if all he had was a 50-50 shot at living through this miserable operation, maybe he'd just skip the surgery. At least he could live out what was left of his life without the discomfort.
In the meantime, word about Rusty started to circulate. As a producer at The Nashville Network, Rusty was a beloved member of a strong network of friends. Those friends started sharing ideas and options. They weren't going to let a member of the family go that easily - there had to be other answers for Rusty.
Sure enough, with a little time and talking, Rusty's friends found an alternative. Through a friend of a friend, Rusty was led to M. D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, where one talented surgeon had successfully performed 215 procedures on pancreatic cancer patients. TNN picked up the tab for the plane ticket, and in no time Rusty was in Houston, on an operating table, while his friends were back home praying for his life.
One amazing physician and two tenacious assistants spent almost sixteen hours redesigning the insides of Rusty Wilcoxen. They cut out four tumors, removed and rebuilt the bile duct, cut back non-cancerous areas (so the cancer would have less places to grow back on) and basically reinvented the inner workings of Rusty's body.
Despite the 15-and-a-half-hour procedure and its accompanying negative prognosis, Rusty broke the rules on post-op time in the ICU. Most people spend 7-10 days recovering in ICU; Rusty spent four hours. They sent him to a room in a wheelchair, even though a gurney is the typical transportation of choice following such traumatic surgery. Leave it to Rusty to live like somebody who should have hope, despite the impossible odds.
His prognosis was very negative. Yes, this massive surgery was his only hope, but it by no means meant a clean bill of health. He had been blessed to find M. D. Anderson and Dr Evans; that offered him the best odds possible. Dr. Evans' procedure for pancreatic cancer is far more advanced than anywhere else in the world, and Rusty was fortunate enough to find him. But the fight to live was just beginning.
You see, few people diagnosed with pancreatic cancer live past stage one of the disease. Rusty was already at stage three or four when they found it. Cancer was on 11 of his 22 lymph nodes. He had to have all his internal organs reconfigured just to buy him time. He still had to decide where to go from here.
So he went home. After two weeks in the hospital, Rusty headed back to Nashville, to face the second act of his personal drama.
He had been told that the next step would be another "purchase of time": six weeks of radiation and chemo to follow the surgery. Once again, Rusty was left weighing his options. Should he suffer the effects of chemotherapy to postpone dying or skip the treatment and live out the rest of his life as comfortably as possible?
Déjà vu…Rusty faced another decision point, where all he wanted was someone to offer an ounce of hope. And again, his network of friends came through, linking him to yet another great doctor as source of hope - Dr. Anthony Greco of The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center.
At his first appointment with Dr. Greco, Rusty laid it on the line. He told the doctor that all he wanted was a chance. He wanted to know: what would his odds be if he underwent chemotherapy; was there really any hope?
Dr. Greco didn't mince words. Chemotherapy would give Rusty slight hope for survival. The odds were miniscule, but Dr. Greco said if "that's all you need to fight, let's give it a shot."
Rusty wanted to get it straight, "Six weeks of chemo will give me a chance?"
"Not six weeks," Dr. Greco clarified, "52 weeks. Let's do it as long as you can tolerate it."
Rusty began his 52 weeks of chemotherapy that very day. And Chemo Day became his best day each week, for the 51 weeks that followed. That was the day that he got to be with his family at The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center. He always went home sick, but happy - happy because he had just spent time with people who truly cared about him.
On his first day of radiation, Rusty walked into The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center and stared up at a huge portrait of the facility's namesake. It gave him peace to see his friend's familiar smile there; he had a sense of her presence that day, and it calmed him to be with a friend.
After 52 weeks of visiting the center, Rusty had more than one friend at The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center. As a matter of fact, he had an extended family.
Rusty discovered that Dr. Greco wasn't just a physician; Dr Greco was a friend and healer. He also learned that the staff at The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center wasn't just a group of skilled professionals; they were the family he could count on in his time of need. And he learned that Sarah Cannon didn't just lend her name to the facility; her spirit, her love, and her appreciation of life resided there.
As a personal friend of Sarah Cannon and as a producer to Minnie Pearl, Rusty can tell you with authority that Ms. Cannon never lent her name or hung Minnie's hat without reason. Thanks to the vision and direction of Sarah Cannon, Rusty had a life-source for treatment here in Middle Tennessee.
And as a cancer survivor, a walking miracle, Rusty can tell you that The Sarah Cannon Cancer Center and The Minnie Pearl Cancer Foundation are truly sources of hope and life, just as she intended them to be.
For more information about the Minnie Pearl Cancer Foundation, see www.minniepearl.org
*Webmaster's note: this wonderful news story depicted very clearly the struggles Rusty faced during his diagnosis and treatment, however, there are some technical inaccuracies that need to be clarified. First, Mr Wilcoxen's surgery lasted 8 3/4 hours, not 15 1/2 hours. Secondly, while Dr Evans was and is Mr. Wilcoxen's primary physician at M. D. Anderson, the surgeon of record during his Whipple procedure was Dr. Jeffrey Lee.