A Four Month Odyssey – Etai David Gamliel

Etai David Gamliel 

Metastatic Melanoma at Age 33: My Four Month Odyssey  

Epigraph. 

“Much is hidden from us, so much we simply don’t know. And the great and agonizing question of “why” remains the same great and impenetrable mystery that it has been since the beginning of time. The other means of consolation that we find, are in the speaking of words of tribute and remembrance of a good life, of broad depth and great meaning. And the good and pleasant memories of the unique man who lived that life, bring a smile through the tears.” – Eulogy by Rabbi Shor, Friday, November 3, 2023. 

The Odyssey Begins. 

Number 42.  A regular number, as numbers are, I suppose. At first blush, this number is an innocuous integer in the infinity of the order of counting.  But upon further examination, this particular number carries a unique significance.  In numerology, number 42 endorses family, home, harmony, and nurturing spiritual growth and wisdom.  Considered an “angel” number, it personifies a path of spiritual fulfillment.  In the Bible, number 42 signifies a period of trial, testing and purification: a transition from struggle to fulfillment of hope and renewal.  And, in medicine, red blood cells have a maximum shelf-life of 42 days serving as a finite factor in the quest of sustaining human life.   

As spirited points of conversation as these anecdotes may be, the number 42 adorned my high school football jersey as I willed myself to athletic excellence at the age of 16 as a star linebacker playing for the Sherwood Warriors in Montgomery County, MD.  Intriguingly, my given name, Etai, means “Divine Warrior”, biblically oriented with qualifications of strength and wisdom bringing good fortune and spiritual connection. Imbued with an intense and focused mental approach for planning and living a lifetime of high achievement, ultimately, my plan did not anticipate succumbing to Metastatic Melanoma at the age of 33. 

Born September 6, 1990, into a proud Jewish family residing in a pleasant suburban neighborhood in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area, my mother described me as an ugly baby, a fat baby but a healthy baby.   As the third and last child, being the baby of the family, my life’s challenges began early as I forged lasting bonds with two older siblings:  Kfir, my older brother, six years my senior; and, Shanee, my older sister by two years.  My father abandoned me prior to my parents’ divorce when I was eight years old.  My mother was my rock and my hero serving as a senior IT government official and the sole provider of the family.  She would re-marry a man that I grew to trust and love and who served as a role model of what a father should be.  Inspired by my mother’s unconditional capacity to care for others and her unconquerable will to excel , she served to be the singular source of inspiration through which I would build a foundation of high achievement on the field of athletics, as well as, in the professional field as a Doctor of Physical Therapy treating our country’s soldiers of the U.S. Army, 2nd Brigade, 10th Mountain Division based at Fort Drum, Watertown, New York.    

Friday, June 30, 2023, I found myself debilitated by a severely intense headache.  At 1 a.m., I called my parents concerned with the development telling them that the Advil and antibiotics prescribed to me were not alleviating the increasingly painful headaches I had been suffering since earlier in the month.  I agreed to be admitted to the emergency room of the local hospital and after  

conducting preliminary testing, an “anomaly” is found on the left side of my brain.  I was transported by ambulance to Upstate University Hospital in Syracuse, New York for more targeted testing.  My parents flew up to stay with me. 

Thursday, July 6, we received the news that the cause of the intense headaches was due to a peanut-sized tumor in the left temporal lobe of my brain.  Surgery for removal was scheduled for July 10th.   The sudden impact of this statement immediately adjusted my mindset to stay in the present and I willed myself into a familiar affirmation of positivity to conquer any challenge I would encounter.    

Monday, July 10, post-procedure, the doctors expressed that the operation proved profoundly successful:  the tumor was completely removed intact and was sent to the lab to determine the presence of cancer.  Firmly steeled in my mind and spirit of an optimistic outcome, I am released on Friday, July 14 and eager to resume my active career with heightened anticipation that I would join the U.S. Space Force Team 1 as the first ever full time professional physical therapist based at the Pentagon beginning the first of January 2024. 

Awaiting the results of the lab test, I am committed to a daily practice of mental neutrality willfully invoking a self-made philosophy I imparted to all of my clients, “Training will get you only halfway there.  The other half is training your mind.  In order to have what you want, you must learn to be who you are.  To be who you are takes effort with no shortcuts – so, get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”    

Tuesday, July 18, the biopsy results confirm the worse case scenario:  presence of a particularly aggressive form of Metastatic Melanoma and my case is transferred to Johns Hopkins Baltimore, MD.  I placed my career on hold during a lengthy convalescence at my parent’s home nearby contemplating my future life plans as I began a two-month regimen of periodic testing, radiation, and immunotherapy treatment to ignite an all-out fight toward remission.   

As the months slowly but inevitably rolled by, I found myself fighting the ever-present haunting of a sword of Damocles furtively hanging over me that would cut short all that I had worked hard to attain in life.  In my professional career I dedicated every ounce of my being into helping others heal themselves to become better versions of themselves so that they could live a stress free physical healthy life.  And then, I realized, I had to apply this therapeutic dedication to myself.  A rainbow of emotions colored my days as I navigated anger, sadness, and fear while trying to stay anchored in the affirmation of positivity as I practiced my daily disciplines:  list three things for which I am grateful; maintain exercise and nutrition regimen; and continue to improve work, pleasure, and life balance.    

Wednesday, September 6, my birthday, results from additional testing unequivocally confirmed the spread of cancer initiating targeted full-brain radiation treatment with a follow-up scan scheduled for October 23.   

Monday, October 16, at 5:30 am, from the first-floor bedroom in my parent’s home, I called them saying rather matter-of-factly, that I could not feel my right leg.  My parents rushed to my aide struggling to carry me outside and placed me in their car to once more be transported to Hopkins.    

Tuesday, October 19, the chief oncologist who had steadfastly treated me throughout my odyssey, visited me with my parents nearby and I heard his voice speaking; I recall his mouth forming words, but I could not comprehend the phrase that would be indelibly etched into my soul, “the cancer is terminal, but we could perform radiation for palliative care.”    

My Story Continues. 

Two weeks later, I would be resting my weary and tired body in hospice nearby in Columbia, MD.  The long arduous struggle to embrace a physically structured temporal existence would reach finality soon thereafter.  As much as I wished to have had the opportunity to have experienced the elaborate fullness of the progress of family and professional life, I realized this was not to be the end of a chapter.  Rather, I was destined to begin another journey of spiritual growth and wisdom empowering my being to fulfill my natural aspiration of healing others while soaring with angels.   

Etai David Gamliel gently left us, leaving a profound legacy of providing unconditional care and comfort to those in need that remains in the hearts of all who were fortunate enough to have shared life’s moments with him.   

“The energy and compassion Etai exemplified…was so very powerful and motivating.  Etai was, is and will continue to be an inspiration to us all to keep pushing ourselves to better those we serve.” – Ben, Fort Drum, NY. 

“Etai was one of us.  Once a commando, always a commando.” – Mark, Fort Drum, NY.