Alfred Bracamonte had two goals this week — to run a 5K and to have a clean brain scan.
Though he wasn’t feeling 100 percent and hadn’t trained, the 44-year-old Tucson heavy-equipment operator and former Marine completed Sunday’s 5K run in just under 40 minutes.
He gave a thumbs up to his wife, Laura Bracamonte, as he crossed the finish line, then collected a medal for completing all three races of the local Gabe Zimmerman Triple Crown running series.
Goal No. 1, check.
On Thursday morning, Alfred and his wife walked into the Center for Neurosciences in Tucson, where Alfred would have his first MRI since completing chemotherapy in August.
The couple fended off dread and anxiety by talking about their planned trip to Las Vegas on Nov. 3 — the 25th anniversary of their first date — to renew their vows.
They met as teenagers in Superior. On their first date, they shared a slice of Edwardo’s pizza.
Early signs of a problem
Looking back, the signs were there long before Alfred’s horrific diagnosis of an anaplastic astrocytoma — a Grade 3 malignant brain tumor with no known cause that is highly invasive and difficult to cure.
In 2013, he began veering to his left side when he did his long-distance runs.
He also had severe fatigue, as well as brief episodes where he’d go still, stare ahead, and react to nothing around him. During those episodes, it felt like waves of electricity were shooting through his arm. He tasted metal in his mouth.
When he ran the San Diego Rock ’n’ Roll Marathon in June of that year, his time was 4 hours, 56 minutes, 52 seconds, which was about 30 minutes slower than what he’d expected.
Weeks later, he had another staring episode while changing water meters in Tubac and narrowly missed falling head first into a deep ditch.
Slow-growing cancer
On the morning of July 9, 2013, Alfred got considerably worse.
“It was summer, and he’d been working crazy hours, getting up at 2 or 3 in the morning,” said Laura, 39, who works as a claims processor. “I came into the kitchen to put his lunch together, and I could hear him in the bathroom. He was violently vomiting. I’d never heard him do that before. I told him he was staying home.”
Laura thought the problem must be her husband’s blood-pressure medicine. She set up an appointment with their nurse practitioner, who told Laura that Alfred seemed to be on the verge of having a stroke.
By 6 p.m., they were in the emergency room at Tucson Medical Center. By 4:30 a.m., the bad news had been delivered. Alfred was not having a stroke: He had a 2½-inch malignant brain tumor in his left temporal lobe. Surgery was scheduled for a week later.
“They said that type of tumor could have been growing for 20 years,” Laura said. “It’s slow-growing. But Grade 3 is bad. They gave him three years to live.”
About 25 percent of patients with that type of tumor are still alive after five years, said Alfred’s neurosurgeon, Dr. Abhay Sanan. Few live beyond 10 years. There are reports of cures, but they are rare.
One positive for Alfred was that the tumor was only on the left side. When brain tumors cross hemispheres, the situation is much worse, Sanan said.
“That’s my honey”
The Bracamonte house in southwest Tucson stands out on the block for its orange lights, cobwebs, skeletons, ghosts and yellow caution tape. Alfred spent hours putting it together in early October.
Unable to work indefinitely, Alfred embraces taking care of the house by cleaning, mowing the lawn and doing other landscaping. He helps the neighbors out, too. And he loves decorating the yard.
Though he wants to go back to work, his wife says his mind and body are not in sync right now. He loses his balance a lot and admits to sometimes feeling trapped inside his own body.
“I want to say something, but a different thing comes out,” he said.
When he woke up from surgery, he knew the people around him were family and friends, but he called them the wrong names.
“My concern was that he wouldn’t know who I was when he woke up. He looked at me. His pet name for me is ‘honey.’ He looked at me and said, ‘That’s my honey,’” Laura said.
“As the days went on, he got better ... For the most part, I can figure out what he wants to say.”
Some other changes came after his surgery: In addition to losing his balance, he couldn’t tolerate bright lights, noise or loud music. His affinity for heavy metal turned into a love of gospel music.
Power of prayer
Since the tumor had woven itself into his brain in ways that made it difficult to remove surgically, Alfred was assigned a regimen of radiation, followed up by a year of oral chemotherapy.
Alfred began working not only with Sanan, but also a team of doctors, including neuro-oncologist Dr. Michael Badruddoja, who is the only neuro-oncologist in Southern Arizona, and with radiation oncologist Dr. Lisa Hazard.
When Laura talks about that time now, she gets choked up. Alfred cries. The reason is that they are remembering what they decided back then.
Alfred decided that, in spite of his illness, he wanted to run the Las Vegas Rock ’n’ Roll Half Marathon, scheduled for Nov. 16.
Alfred completed radiation in the third week of September. His first follow-up MRI in October showed the tumor had shrunk.
The couple attends Faith Tabernacle Church in central Tucson and believes in the power of prayer.
“We have a very strong belief and faith in God,” Laura said. “It hasn’t been easy by any means, but we feel God is with us and that every struggle, he has helped us get through.”
With the help of his nephew, who stayed by his side the whole way, Alfred ran the Las Vegas half-marathon in 3 hours, 48 minutes.
“My feet were hurting. My whole body was in pain,” Alfred said.
“He’s like my Forrest Gump,” Laura said. “He just gets up and goes.”
By December, Alfred’s tumor was barely detectable. He then started another cycle of chemotherapy that ended in August. Now Alfred must get an MRI every eight weeks to see whether there’s any tumor growth.
“There’s a 50-50 chance of it returning. It’s all a matter of how the next year goes,” Laura said.
Looking for a smile
At 11:30 a.m. on Thursday, Alfred and Laura walked into the Center for Neurosciences for Alfred’s first MRI since finishing chemo. The MRI took about an hour. Then they waited.
Having any medical test and then waiting for results can be difficult. But when someone is going through a test to determine whether their cancer has returned, it can be excruciating.
“You are holding your breath,” Laura said. “You are looking for the doctor to come in the room and you are looking at their expression, looking for the smile.”
This time, there was a smile. No new tumor growth was detected. Laura says her husband’s new nickname is “Ned” — No Evidence of Disease.
Goal No. 2, check.
“I think from his perspective, it’s as good as it could possibly be. Functionally, he’s doing spectacular,” Sanan said. “He has the right attitude, and has had a great response to treatment.”
There will be more MRIs in the future. But for now, the couple has a trip to Las Vegas to organize. And Alfred wants to start entering mud runs.
Each has high praise for the other. Laura says Alfred is the strongest person she knows. Alfred is effusive about his love for Laura.
Soon the couple will have more pictures to add to the collages that line the walls of their home, chronicling Alfred’s illness and recovery.
Alfred is smiling in nearly all the photos. At the end of the most recently completed collage, there’s a quotation: “The best days are yet to come.”
