By CHUCK OFFENBURGER

DES MOINES, Iowa, Dec. 1, 2025 — My granddaughter Casey Offenburger celebrated her 15th birthday this past week in Oxford, Ohio, where she lives. I sure didn’t have any trouble remembering it was her 15th.

Casey was born on Nov. 25, 2010, which happened to be Thanksgiving Day that year. It was the same day when I first was able to eat a complete meal — or most of one — after having received a stem cells transplant at the University of Iowa Hospitals & Clinic in Iowa City.

That was the treatment that stopped the lymphoma cancer that had first attacked me in 2009, then retreated, but recurred in August of 2010, threatening to kill me.

It’s been in remission ever since. So I definitely remember Casey’s birthday. That time was sort of a re-birthday for me. I decided to celebrate it 15 years later by pulling out some old photos of the transplant as it happened, describing it as accurately as I can remember.

In early November, 2010, nurses Linda Lampson (left) and Luanne Link prepare me for the recycling of enough of my blood so that two million cancer-free stem cells could be removed, frozen, then eventually warmed and transplanted back into my blood stream, in hopes they would “re-boot” my system for cancer-free living.

And, oh, am I grateful!

An even more lethal form of cancer, adenoid cystic carcinoma, took the life of my wife Carla, who’d been diagnosed a year after I first was. But thanks to my treatment, I was able to be her caretaker to the end, in 2021.

My transplant let me be alive to rediscover love with our longtime, loyal friend Mary Riche. We married, have had three great years together, and hope for many more. Today, we celebrated Mary’s 78th birthday (catching up to me). And it also happened to be the 15th anniversary of my release from UIHC after the transplant. It occurred to me again that there aren’t a lot of people our age who are as in love with life as the two of us are.

I’ve told you, I think, that in my cancer recovery, I have by now retired three oncologists! Dr. Michael Guffy of McFarland Clinic and Mary Greeley Medical Center in Ames; Dr. Roger Gingrich, the stem cells transplant director at UIHC in Iowa City, and Dr. Matt Hill of the John Stoddard Cancer Center in Des Moines, indeed saved me.

They’ve now handed me off for check-ups and follow-ups to Dr. Zeeshan Jawa of the new UIHC Mission Cancer & Blood merged practice in the Des Moines area.

They’ve all given me the opportunity to see grandchildren growing into adulthood, to continue my long career in writing, to experience more of Iowa, our nation and the world.

And today, I was alive to watch the televised coverage of my alma mater Vanderbilt University having what the announcers called “its greatest football moment ever.” My Commodores walloped arch-rival Tennessee 45-24 on UT’s home field, giving Vandy its first 10-win regular season in school history.

Isn’t life good?

Beginning in the second week of November, I was admitted to UIHC to undergo what staff referred to as “big guns chemo,” to knock down my immune system. That way, when clean stem cells were infused, hopefully my system would not reject them. I maintained a lighter-than-usual schedule of conducting interviews by phone, writing columns and even doing live weekly conversations with the KMA radio morning show hosts in my ol’ hometown of Shenandoah in southwest Iowa.

One chemo drug — I can’t remember which one — was so toxic, the doctors and nurses said, that sores in my mouth were likely. However, they’d discovered that if patients chewed on ice during the four hours of that chemo treatment, the sores could be avoided. Popsicles could be eaten instead of ice chips, they said. So, believe me, I ate popsicles for four hours, and while I experienced no mouth sores, I was so cold after the treatment that I spent at least an hour afterward walking the hallways to warm-up!

Bill Livingston, a great friend from our student-newspapering years at our alma mater Vanderbilt University, became the sports columnist for the Cleveland Plain Dealer. When I was undergoing stem cells treatment, he came to Iowa City to cover the Ohio State-at-Iowa football game — and came to the transplant unit for a pre-game visit. He brought along an Ohio State ball cap that had been signed for me by their legendary coach Jim Tressel.

While being given fluids and then chemo drugs, I faithfully followed recommendations from the medical staff — and from friends — that I ride an exercycle several times daily, as well as walking the hallways, even while I was receiving infusions.

How many laps of the hallways were required to equal a mile? I’d did the walk two, maybe even times per day when I was feeling strong enough.

It took 11 days of chemo treatment to get my white blood cells count to 0.0, meaning that I basically had no immune system. That was required before my stem cells could be infused to “re-boot” my system.

On Nov. 15, 2010, which was my “T-Day” (“Transplant Day”) technician Dave Huling brought the container that had slowly warmed the bags of stem cells that had been frozen to extreme temperatures after they’d been removed from my blood earlier.

The stem cells had been frozen to 179 degrees (Celsius) below 0, which equated to about 290 degrees (Fahrenheit) below zero!

Nurse Scott Schroeder, who directed my case, began loading the thawed stem cells, then said to me, “Are you ready for this, Chuck? In a way, it’s sort of underwhelming — just like it’s another transfusion — except that it is really important for you. It’s like this is the first day of the rest of your life!” I gulped a little then said, “Ready!”

How many hours did the actual stem cells transplant require on T-Day? Was it four or five hours? I can’t remember for sure. But here we were at the completion of it, with nurse Schroeder starting to remove the infusion equipment.

I’ll be grateful the rest of my life for the careful work of nurse Scott Schroeder.

Gina Glass, a Physician’s Assistant, was also a crucial member of the treatment team that took care of me. Our tradition since 2010 is to meet at the Iowa State Fair each summer for ice cream.

Dr. Katarzyna Jamieson, one of the medical directors of the transplant unit in 2010, is shown here after she gave me a final exam and released me the week after Thanksgiving.

Yes, life is good! We RicheBurgers are pictured here this past September on our trip to Italy. We were at one of Mary’s favorite stops — the famous Oto Botanica garden at the University of Padua.

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You can comment on this column below or write the columnist directly by email at chuck@offenburger.com.