TIME

Joe Orsulak glances at the calendar in his locker, counts down the days in his mind, winces and curses under his breath.

Dammit, he tells himself, it’s almost over.

The Florida Marlins’ home stand, their longest of the season, ends in four days. He’ll be packing his bags for another trip, this time to the West Coast. He can’t stomach the thought.

“It’s almost wasted time, you know what I mean?” Orsulak softly says. “You can’t get that back. You can never get it back.

“That’s the hardest thing of all, knowing that there’s not a lot of time left and I’m away.”

Orsulak’s voice trails off, his eyes moistening again.

His wife has an inoperable brain tumor. He has no idea whether she’ll live another month, another year, another five years.

His 3-year-old son has undergone six heart procedures, including two open-heart operations. He will never be able to live a normal life.

One family, two life-threatening conditions, and Orsulak never asks why.

“There are times when you cry and get it out of your system,” he says, “and you go on. Some days are better than others. When you think about it all of the time, it becomes unbearable. When you think about what’s going to happen down the road, well, you just can’t do that.

“A lot of people go through things you don’t even know about.”

Orsulak looks like a man who has aged 20 years in two. Fatigue hangs like weights from his eyes and cheeks. And the lines in his face are etched too deeply for a man of 34.

The fear and the pain and the grief have done all that and more.

“What I’ve learned more than anything else is that time is precious,” Orsulak says. “I spend as much time as I can with my family. I want those memories.

“I remember before this all happened, I used to always go hunting, taking off a week at a time. I don’t do that anymore. Maybe I’m gone half a day, that’s it.

“What we try to do is live as normal a life as possible. That’s all you can do. There’s something to be said about living a normal life, you know.”

Two years ago, Orsulak’s wife, Adrianna, was found to have Anaplastic Astrocytoma, an inoperable form of cancer that aggressively spreads through the brain. The doctors told her she had one, perhaps two years to live.

There is no cure.

Orsulak met Adrianna while playing winter ball in Venezuela in 1984, and they were married during the 1988 All-Star break. They had two sons, Joseph Jr. and Michael, and were living the good life that major league baseball provides.

Then, Adrianna started complaining of severe headaches. She underwent a series of tests on July 25, 1994. The next day, doctors wanted to meet with the two of them.

“Right then, I knew something was wrong,” Orsulak says. “I was shocked when they told us.”

He couldn’t understand how his wife could be perfectly healthy one day, and then undergoing radiation treatments five times a week for seven weeks. Then came six months of chemotherapy. She lost her hair. Her face, neck and limbs became swollen. For a long time, she was unable even to walk up the staircase at home.

“The medication was brutal, as far the side effects,” Orsulak says.

Adrianna has slowly regained her strength through physical therapy. She still tires easily, but the tumor has shrunk, her hair has grown back, the swelling in her body has subsided.

Imagine the joy they experienced last weekend when Orsulak was able to bring Adrianna, and his two sons--Joe Jr., 6, and Michael, 3--to the family-day game at Joe Robbie Stadium, and then attend a picnic for Marlin employees on Sunday.

“She has her rough times,” Orsulak says. “But for the most part, she’s taking advantage of this opportunity when she’s doing well to try to raise her children and get them prepared for life.

“The most important thing for her is spending time with the children.

“She still has time to be an influence on them, and that’s extremely important to her. She wants them to remember her.

“She wants them to know she’s their mother.”

Orsulak is unsure just how much his sons understand. Joe Jr. prays each night in Spanish, Adrianna’s native language. He prays for his mother to be fully healthy one day, and for his younger brother to be just like any other 3-year-old.

“We explained that his mommy has a brain tumor,” Orsulak says. “We didn’t say she’s going to die. All he knows is that she’s not the same as she used to be.

“It’s impossible to know just how much they understand. Sometimes, I think my oldest son knows a lot, then there other days when I think he doesn’t understand much. You don’t exactly know how much your kids know. Sometimes, kids know things you don’t even know, things they see.

“What can you say? What can you do? You just have to live life as normal as possible.”

Orsulak realizes he is asking the impossible. Life will never be normal again. His wife might not live until Christmas. His younger son will struggle the rest of his life.

Michael was born with a heart defect known as Williams Syndrome, a rare genetic disorder that narrows the arteries. He was 6 months old when he had his first open-heart surgery. The disease, which affects one in 20,000 children, is characterized by a distinctive facial appearance, cardiovascular defects and developmental delay. Its victims can have crossed eyes, crowded teeth, gastrointestinal problems and height and weight below the third percentile.

Michael undergoes therapy four times a week to improve his weak muscle tone, and speech and occupational therapy for learning disabilities. He also has undergone medical treatments for his eyes, teeth and ears and takes blood-pressure medicine daily.

“He’s on constant watch,” Orsulak says, “and we’ll be watching him the rest of his life. Our oldest son understands. We took him aside and told him that you can’t roughhouse with him. [Joe Jr.] has been great. He’s been very protective of him.”

There was a time when Orsulak wondered if he should give up baseball. He simply would quit, stay home and relish every waking moment with the family.

Who knows, if not for the players’ strike in 1994, two weeks after Adrianna’s diagnosis, he might have quit. But the strike afforded him time at home during the ordeal, and when spring training rolled around, Adrianna told her husband to go play.

“She wanted me to keep playing,” Orsulak said. “I need to play. I’m 34 years old. If I quit now, I’m at the point where I’m done. Nobody would want me. I mean, what else am I going to do? This is what I do for a living.

“Believe me, it was tough at first. The first few days when I stepped back on the field, I couldn’t help think of her. But it’s a thing now where you’re doing your job, that’s what you think about. It kind of eases your mind.

“It’s been tough, but she was given one or two years to live, and we’ve almost reached that already. So who knows? You can’t worry about it every single day. It would just be too hard.”

Orsulak began this season as a lifetime .278 hitter over 12 seasons with Pittsburgh, Baltimore and the Mets. This season, he is batting .219 as a part-time outfielder for the Marlins, having come to them as a free agent in December.

Said teammate Terry Pendleton: “I’m sure he has his days where he goes into a corner and cries. But he’s handled it well. He’s always positive.”

Even when the news first hit, his teammates say, Orsulak maintained a stoic stance. He never asked for sympathy. Never wanted any favors. Simply wanted to play ball.

“Guys were amazed the way he handled it,” says Dodger outfielder Rick Parker, Orsulak’s teammate with the New York Mets when the tumor was discovered. “It put everything in perspective for us right away. You think 0 for 4 is a bad day? You realize that’s nothing.

“I think baseball has helped him. It gives him a little mental break. It clears your mind for a while so he’s not thinking about it 24 hours a day.”

There have been too many people to thank throughout this ordeal. His mother-in-law is in town to help out. Adrianna’s sister lives with them. The Marlins have been there at all times. The phone calls, the letters, the telegrams have been inspirational.

“It’s been overwhelming, and when I saw what happened to Brett [Butler’s cancer], those feelings all came back again,” Orsulak says. “He was there for me last year when we were together for the Mets. I know how strong he is. He’ll get through this. He’ll beat this.

“A lot of people have that reaction, ‘Why? Why is this happening to me?’ I’m sure Brett heard the same thing. But you go to the cancer ward and you see young people, old people, black people, white people and you realize you haven’t been singled out.

“We’re just trying to enjoy life as much as you can. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Tomorrow is no guarantee for anybody.

“You have to have faith.

“You have to have hope.

“If you don’t have those things, you have nothing at all.

“Believe me, I know.”