Some places remind of bad experiences

Local columnist

link Clyde Davis

Songwriters and singers, ranging from "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" to "Hey, It's Good to Be Back Home Again" and even including "The Boys Are Back in Town" have celebrated the value of going back to one's roots, to a place of import and impact.

In my humble opinion, it depends on what import and impact were, and just which roots one may have, in said place. This week's roots visit to a neighborhood in Lubbock takes me back to a time and place where I hope to never be again, and which reminds me only of what I wish to never experience again.

I lived there for a brief time, I was never robbed, nor was I ill treated, and the area is pleasant enough. However, as Relay for Life approaches, I reflect back on the neighborhood in Lubbock where we had an apartment while I was fighting cancer. This week I had to go back to the cancer center for a checkup which has now become annual; at one point, such visits were monthly and filled with anxiety.

There is a lake near the apartment, around which I used to walk or attempt to walk, though I frequently became too exhausted for the half mile stroll.

The lake is home to a large number of geese and I liked to watch them.

I did not know if I would see my 50th birthday.

The streets are lined with trees and the traffic, though heavy, moves slowly; the area is in the heartland of Lubbock's medical complex blocks and buildings. The cars move slowly and purposefully through the maze of buildings and housing.

Because I was on chemotherapy, which does strange things to one's memory, I could easily get lost in areas of the town which I know very well how to navigate.

The mall was a frequent afternoon destination for myself and the amazing woman to whom I am married, and who took a long leave from work, even while working on her Master's degree, so that she could walk the journey beside me, a journey of which the outcome was unsure.

Even as I write this, there is a man in town whose chances of beating the same very serious kind of cancer which I had, chances which are still tough odds, though better than they were in 2001 — whose chances have been diminished to almost nothing due to a botched surgery performed by a local doctor.

Listening to that story being told yesterday infuriated me to the point that I had to leave the room.

We have come a long way in our fight against cancer. The type of cancer which I had would, today, be generally treated by a radium implant or something like that, which attacks the mutant cells. Certainly the type of surgery I had is still an option, but there are other ways.

The effects of chemo-brain do go away, but slowly and sometimes crop back unexpectedly. I can remember, as late as 2007, playing first base in a softball game and watching a ground ball go to my right, fully aware that I was supposed to do something about this, but unable to connect the realization to the required action. I have been playing first base and catcher since I was 12 years old.

The journey back to that area of Lubbock is not one I like to relive, but it is necessary to acknowledge that it occurred.

Very soon, another event will occur. That event is our Clovis Relay for Life. There is a very good chance that each reader of this article has been touched, at some point, by cancer in self or a loved one. There is also a good chance that you can find a Relay team to be a part of.

I know that I will.

Clyde Davis is a Presbyterian pastor and teacher at Clovis High School. He can be contacted at:

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