Donation Good Medicine for Ex-Deputy

Former Sheriff’s Deputy David Joens thought life couldn’t get any tougher once he got the phone call from his doctor explaining that the lump under his left arm was cancerous.

“And I’m sorry to say the treatment at this time is fair at best,” the doctor told Joens.

Determined not to give in to a form of cancer with a 20% survival rate, Joens underwent painful surgery, chemotherapy and even tried an experimental vaccine.

But as his medical bills mounted, Joens--too ill to work--quickly realized the disease wasn’t his only battle.

“When you get cancer, or any serious disease,” Joens said, “you don’t just fight the illness. You fight the insurance company; you fight socioeconomic problems. . . . I thought, if I just had to mess with the cancer, I think I’d be OK.”

Back at the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department, former colleagues were listening. At a dinner in Camarillo earlier this month, deputies handed Joens a check for $30,000--money collected from deputies and other department employees. Days later, they gave him another check for more than $11,500.

“I just couldn’t believe it,” said Joens, the sound of amazement still echoing in his voice. “I just kept thinking, I’m not alone.”

“That’s one thing about law enforcement,” added Sgt. Randy Pentis, a former co-worker. “It truly is a family. People who didn’t even know him at all donated, just because he’s family.”

It’s not the first time Joens, a 45-year-old divorced man with an 11-year-old daughter in Florida, has battled the disease. In 1983, Joens learned a mole on his back was malignant.

He checked into the John Wayne Cancer Institute, then based at UCLA, where the mole and a patch of skin surrounding it were removed. For the next 14 years, he was cancer-free.

“The doctors told me my job was more of a danger,” he recalled, smiling at his physician’s assessment at the time.

Joens flourished at the Sheriff’s Department beginning in 1981, putting his 6-foot, 4-inch, 230-pound frame through rigorous tactical procedures as part of the agency’s SWAT team.

His career came to an abrupt end, however, when in 1992--while rushing through a door during a SWAT exercise, Joens injured his back.

He soon moved to North Carolina to be near family and became a private investigator.

Putting deodorant on one morning last year, he noticed some sensitivity under one arm. Then he felt the lump. It had been 14 years since the cancerous mole was removed.

The cancer probably hadn’t returned, a doctor said. Still, as a precaution, the physician recommended a biopsy. Two days later, on Aug. 8, 1997, the surgeon who performed the biopsy called.

“I knew right away when the surgeon called I was in trouble,” Joens said with a nervous laugh. The doctor told him about the new cancer and his narrow chance for survival. “He told me all that over the phone.”

It was six days before his 44th birthday.

Doctors recommended Joens return to the John Wayne Institute, which had relocated to Santa Monica, where improvements in cancer treatments were among the most advanced.

“They said if I didn’t return, there was nothing they could do for me,” Joens said. “The treatments they had to offer only could keep me alive another year.”

In the span of two weeks, Joens sold everything he could, packed the rest of his belongings into a Ryder truck and drove to California. He moved in with his mother and stepfather near Torrance.

Dr. Donald Morton suggested an aggressive attack on the cancer, starting with surgery to remove all lymph nodes under his left arm.

But by then, a battle with insurance carrier Blue Cross was heating up, Joens said. Prepped for surgery, intravenous tubes in his arms, and his mother standing at his bedside, Joens was waiting to be wheeled into the operating room when an employee from the hospital’s business department said Blue Cross had not authorized the procedure.

“They said they had no way of knowing if they would get paid for the costs of hospitalization,” Joens said. “I looked at him and said, ‘You’ve got to be crazy.’ Here I am, the doctors have been telling me I’ve got to get this out, I’ve got to get this out, and now they won’t take me in for surgery because of my insurance.”

Desperate to see the surgery go forward, Joens’ mother took out a credit card and charged the $4,000 bill.

Eventually, Blue Cross did cover his costs, but they charged him a $1,200 penalty for not allowing the carrier to approve the surgery before he scheduled it. Making matters worse, the company agreed to pay no more than 80% of his care because he moved from North Carolina to California for treatment. Medical costs in California were more expensive, they explained.

After his surgery, Joens learned that of the 44 lymph nodes removed, 17 were malignant.

Dr. Morton recommended an experimental vaccine that boosts the body’s immune system to fight the cancer. Earlier studies showed a 53% success rate with the vaccine, a dramatic improvement over the 10% to 20% survival rate with traditional treatments.

Joens’ insurance, however, would not cover the experimental treatment. So, despite being unable to work and surviving on a modest pension from the Sheriff’s Department, Joens dipped into his savings account to pay for the $3,000 cost of the vaccine. Prescription pills were another expense, at times adding up to $900 a month.

“Fighting a disease is a big emotional burden,” Joens said. “And it’s a big financial burden, too. But the fear of self-preservation becomes paramount. So you do what you have to do.”

But after several months on the vaccine, Joens’ health started to decline.

A second surgery was necessary, and doctors found five more cancerous lymph nodes in his shoulder and neck. In June, a tumor was removed from his stomach. The vaccine had failed.

For now, Joens is undergoing a series of treatments that include painful and nauseating chemotherapy and other medications. The cost of this set of treatments: $72,000--$14,400 of which Joens expects he will have to pay himself.

“I was angry and fearful,” said Joens, whose weight has at times dwindled to 184 pounds. “But those are wasted emotions. It doesn’t help you be successful in this little battle. It becomes a challenge, you know--’I’m going to beat the odds.’ We all think that way, I guess, even when the odds appear overwhelming.”

Helping him stand up against those overwhelming odds has been longtime friend and former roommate Sgt. Bruce Macito.

“Talking to Dave, I knew a lot of his treatments were experimental, and insurance wasn’t covering them,” Macito said. “And he didn’t want to leave any bills behind for his parents, if things didn’t go so well. I knew a lot of people in the department still knew Dave and would want to help.”

He was right. Deputies, clerical staff and Sheriff Bob Brooks dipped into their unused vacation hours and donated them to Joens. Some donated the maximum allowed, 40 hours.

The department converted the vacation time into cash, which totaled about $60,000 before taxes--more than $41,500 after. Joens said he will use the money to cover $8,000 he owes in outstanding expenses and to help cover future bills.

Earlier this month, Macito handed his friend the first check. He didn’t open it immediately, just folded it into a pocket while struggling to maintain control of his emotions, friends said. Later, during a car ride home, he finally looked at the amount his friends had raised.

He was stunned.

“More than just monetarily,” Joens said. “This has given me a lot of inner strength. And for that, I thank them just as much.”