Again, thanks everyone for the support and kind words. Everything went exceedingly well. It was a beautiful day. All the graduates had, at least it seemed so, some kind of vocal family support. The only downside was that my voice of course went hoarse and the left vocal cord seized up a bit, but apparently folks could understand me on the broadcast, so it must not have been too bad.
It has been a good trip back to Joplin. The devastation is still frightful - so much of my youth is either completely gone or in shambles. But, the human spirit in Joplin is indomitable and people are rebuilding to beat the band.
It is a proud place to be from.
I've posted the text below for those who are interested. Part of it is about this condition/experience we all share.
-Tod
MSSU Commencement Address – December 17, 2011
Tod R. Massa
Thank you for the kind introduction …
When I was six and we lived in Chickasha, Ok, we went to the rodeo. It was there I learned what I wanted to be when I grew up. A rodeo clown. Men who were brave and fearless, and above all, wildly funny. That was what I wanted to be.
When I expressed this to my parents, they firmly told me, “No. You will go to school. You will go to high school. You will get good grades. You will go to college. You will have a nice, clean life away from wild horses and angry cows.†This was the way they said good night for weeks until I stopped talking about the rodeo.
As I grew up, I never forgot my dream of the rodeo. I kept searching for that one thing that would have all the excitement and glory of those rodeo clowns I saw back in Oklahoma. That search got so out of hand that I eventually dropped out of college, joined the Army, and became an infantryman. That was adventure and excitement all right, but not enough. Not even when it came to dangling out of perfectly good helicopters on very skinny ropes. I even tried marriage along the way.
When I left the Army I did the most dangerous thing I could think of: I became an art major at Missouri Southern.
In the interest of full disclosure, I glossed over a few details. Let’s just say I didn’t always make good choices. Dropping out of college was probably one of those. However, without those wrong choices I would not be here today.
When I told my father that I had become an art major, the response was a bit less than supportive: “What? You’ve never shown any talent! What were you thinking?â€
Well, I wasn’t thinking at the time I made the decision. I was a responding to a compulsion I didn’t understand. Three years later I completed an art degree. Somewhere along the way, I impressed the art faculty well enough to vote another student and me as “The Outstanding Senior Art Student†in a tie. I do not think I accomplished this through being talented. Instead, it was hard work, the willingness to make a lot of mistakes, and immersion in the process of art bordering on obsession.
It was all this that prepared me to run a statewide postsecondary education data system in Virginia.
Life is about making choices. Having the life you envision is about making the choices that lead to that life and appreciating the value of the lessons of your mistakes along the way.
I was accepted to Southern Illinois University in Edwardsville for the graduate program in art. Immediately following graduation practice I headed to Edwardsville to check things out. I had no real plans. I simply wanted to see the layout of the town and campus.
The next afternoon I started back to Joplin with a job and a place to live. As Woody Allen said, “80 percent of life is just showing up.†From what I can tell, 20 percent is knowing where to show up. The remaining 50 percent is figuring out what to do when you get there.
Yes, it is hard to get anywhere giving only 100 percent.
After a year in grad school I changed from the Master of Fine Arts to the Master of Public Administration. It was a calculated choice because of other events in my life outside of education. After completing that, I enrolled in the public policy program at Saint Louis U. as a doc student. This led me to a part-time job at the university in institutional research.
At last I had found the life of danger and excitement for which I longed. The excitement of uncovering the truths behind the myths of the institution. The danger is found in sharing those truths with institutional leadership. Indiana Jones had a life of milk and cookies compared to mine – he only had to deal with snakes, Nazis and the supernatural, and later, soviets and aliens. I had to face faculty members, deans, vice presidents and presidents and later, legislators and governors.
Twenty years later I have no regrets about my career. I have had a great time and truly love what I do.
It was two years ago today, December 17th, that a doctor first proposed that I might have a tumor. This led to an early morning MRI on New Year’s Eve and a concerned-looking radiologist giving me some bad news.
I spent the long weekend on Google, learning all I could about brain tumors. Based on what I had been told initially, I expected the tumor, which I named “Bob†to be small. Roughly the thickness of the lead of a No. 2 pencil and a few millimeters long.
Bob was a bit larger than a golf ball. It was severely compressing my brain stem. As evaluations were done, the professional consensus was that I was about six months from coma and death.
I think the worst thing about a brain tumor is the fear of making the wrong choice in treatment. Depending on the size of the tumor, there are up to three primary options: wait and watch (which was really “wait and die†in my case), micro-surgery, and radiation surgery. Given Bob’s size I had no choice but micro-surgery, at least if I wanted to live. I was very lucky this way. The only decisions I had to make were where and with whom.
Early morning February 12, 2009 I went in for surgery at Virginia Commonwealth University Hospital. Having spent so much of my adult life involved in higher education, it was important to me to have this done at a teaching hospital. This was especially true in that there are typically only about 50 tumors of this type and size (or larger) discovered each year. Not only did this mean that there would be very few docs with a lot of directly related experience, it also meant that there could be important opportunities for student learning from the observation of my case.
Surgery was anticipated to be 14-18 hours long. I came out of surgery about 36 hours later.
I was asleep during the whole thing. I wish I could say the same for my family in the waiting room. They had a hard time. Especially when the 18 hour mark had passed. I don’t know that is ever pleasant to be in a surgery waiting area in those small hours of the night. It has got to be bad when you realize that the outer limit of your expectations has passed by. If not for the kindness of an elderly custodian who provided blankets and pillows it would have been a truly miserable night. When morning came, things got worse. There was a miscommunication along the lines of, “They will be done about eight†(this was about 6:30 am) instead of “they will be done in about eight hours.†Even non-English majors can recognize the difference between the two statements.
I spent two weeks in ICU. For six days I was on a breathing tube. I remember a fire drill taking place while drifting in and out of a drug-heavy awareness. I remember being angry that I was not evacuated as part of the drill. After all, how would the nursing staff know what to do with a patient like me if they didn’t practice?
Reading the accounts of heroism in St. John’s Hospital during, and following, the tornado made the point that there are some things for which you really can’t practice. Fortunately though, as many of you know better than I, heroes are all around. If you are lucky, they appear when you most need them. Heroes like those you know, and heroes like the surgeons that spent a day-and-a-half inside my head. They could have called it quits much sooner saying the tumor was just too stubborn and inaccessible.
I left the hospital earlier than some wanted, but with permission of my surgeons. The rehabilitation team felt I should stay another couple weeks. I knew I would recover better at home – I don’t like boundaries other than those of my own choosing. I spent the next few weeks learning to walk again. I went to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and vestibular therapy for my balance. I played Wii Fitness by the hour to further build my balance. I had the first of three procedures to not only give me something of a voice, but more importantly to allow me to eat and drink. I removed my feeding tube while in ICU, a little while after my neurosurgeon said it could come out and I was alone – I was not going back to a feeding tube. My left vocal cord was paralyzed – an aftereffect of the extended use of the breathing tube combined with trauma to the tenth cranial nerve. Some of that paralysis remains today.
Three months after surgery I returned to work.
Was it easy? Hell no. While my balance was much improved, I still had severe double-vision, again due to nerve trauma. I was also terribly weak. And I could barely speak above a hoarse whisper.
I did the only thing one could do in that situation. It was probably the same thing many of you did on May 23d. I made myself get out of bed and did what needed to be done. I did that every day until it no longer required an effort to get up. I got stronger and healthier until I didn’t have to think about getting well. I got well, or at least well enough. Many months later, I achieved a new normal. I often forget about Bob, right up to the moment I go into a coughing fit or try to speak loudly, or sing, and realize, “Oh yeah, I have a brain tumor. Seriously?†At times the unreality of it all is kind of crazy.
In 17 days, I start radiation therapy as Bob is growing again. Again, I have very little in the way of choices. The surgeons do not want to go back in – too much risk for likely too little reward. Wait and watch is not an option since that would actually be “wait and die.†I’m not ready to throw in the towel. So we do radiation. The good news is that there is every reason to believe that the odds of success are on my side.
So, what is the point of these stories?
First, to remind you of the power of the liberal arts-based education you have received at Missouri Southern. The fact that you have completed a degree here has opened new doors for you. You need only to have the will and courage to go through them and do the work required. At some point you may be intrigued by a job opportunity that has nothing to do with your major. Don’t let that hold you back, as valuable as any field is, the truth is this: for a great many endeavors, your college major is irrelevant. The concept of a college major is to provide a focus for your studies. This focus drives the development of your skills of inquiry, analysis, critical thinking, and communication. These skills are almost everything. All of this is equally true for those of you completing professional degrees. I’ve known nurses that have gone on to law school or advocacy roles to perform another kind of patient care. Likewise, I’ve known law enforcement officers who have moved on to other challenging roles leveraging education and experience in the private sector and government.
Continue to do the work. No matter how tough things get, wake up each day and face it full on. Whether that means doing mind-numbing grunt work; or walking small circles in the street outside your home, counting each circle more than the previous day as a success; do the work. Always try to work smart, but do the work.
Remember also, there is very little we can do alone. You are here today because of the work you have done. That work was possible because of the faculty, the staff, the administrators, the grounds crew, the custodians and others. It was also possible because of the tax-payers, and the community and elected leaders that made the institution possible. To all these people you owe it to make best advantage of the experience you had at MSSU.
Finally, realize that some days are going to simply be bad. Even when you do really good work, you can’t count on praise, and no matter how clear the skies are, you know they will change. Rise above the lack of praise, the bad weather, and anything else that comes along by doing more good work.
You can do this. You already have, at least once.
Thank you and congratulations!
