Patient won't let disease defeat him

Cancer is cruel, but Kevin Ceja's family, friends and doctor help him to fight it.
By DEBORA SHAULIS
VINDICATOR STAFF WRITER
YOUNGSTOWN -- Kevin Ceja says he'd rather cut off his trademark jet-black ponytail than lose it to his cancer treatments.
Ceja, who was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer in September, has finished his first course of chemotherapy and has radiation treatments five days a week at Forum Health Northside Medical Center. He was told his hair might fall out when he begins his second round of chemotherapy next month.
A stylist recently cut Ceja's hair, which he donated to Locks of Love, a nonprofit organization that provides hairpieces for children with serious medical illnesses.
"I'm just happy to be alive, with or without my hair," says Ceja, 45, of Millet Avenue on the city's West Side.
"The last time I cut my ponytail was about 12 years ago. I never knew people sold their hair for money, or about Locks of Love ... I said then if I cut my ponytail again, I'd donate it. It's gotta be devastating for a child to go through cancer and lose your hair. You know how cruel kids are."
Ceja's experience
Ceja now knows how cruel cancer can be.
His unbuttoned denim shirt reveals targets on his chest that medical staff draw with black markers before each radiation session. Those treatments also make his throat dry and scratchy. He gets winded by a one-walk block from his home to a Sparkle grocery store, he said.
Ceja went to emergency rooms twice this year for shortness of breath, but his illness went undetected until a doctor ordered an X-ray that revealed an "enormous" tumor, Ceja said. It's pinching off his bronchial tube and squeezing his vocal chord, which accounts for his often-raspy voice these days. The cancer has spread to lymph nodes in his bronchial tube as well as his adrenal glands and upper colon.
The cancer is advanced, so it's too late for surgery, Ceja said. This cancer carries "a pretty high fatality rate," he added.
Ceja has experienced a range of emotions -- anger, devastation, fear and depression among them -- but is trying to be both hopeful and realistic. "This might go into remission. I might be able to go back to work," he said.
If the cancer can't be stopped, he's concerned about what will happen to his family.
Financial fears
Ceja and his fianc & eacute;e, Marcella Belfiore, will be married soon. They've been together for eight years, but only couples who have been married for 10 years or more qualify for Social Security survivor benefits, he said. Their two children will receive some money, he noted.
Ceja ran a restaurant and tended bar in Cleveland for 15 years before moving back to his hometown about three years ago, he said. He was classified as an independent contractor rather than an employee whose taxes and other deductions are withheld. Thus, "I didn't get much credit as far as Social Security is concerned," he said. He's been turned down for disability retirement benefits.
A temporary agency had found work for Ceja at Dinesol Plastics in Niles. He believed he had about 20 years to build up his pension "and everything would be all right," he said. He received one paycheck before the cancer was diagnosed.
Belfiore, who works in a local restaurant, is now the breadwinner. They don't have life insurance, nor could they afford disability insurance on their mortgage when they bought their home last May, Ceja said.
Ceja is worried about foreclosure. "We can't pay the mortgage on what she makes," he said.
Then there are Ceja's medical bills, which are "overwhelming," he added. "We were just making it before" his illness.
An account is been established at Sky Bank for contributions to Ceja's family.
Supportive network
Ceja also has the help of longtime friends Allyson Torres and Dennis Welsh, who do household chores, watch his children and take him to medical appointments. Torres said Ceja helped her last spring while she recovered from a bacterial infection. They've known each other since they were grade-school classmates. Even then, he had long, dark hair. "He wrote me a note on my desk. We've been best friends ever since," she said.
Ceja refers to his 4-year-old daughter, Marcellana, as his nurse because she brings him pillows and provides many hugs and kisses.
"She's braver than I am, I think," he said. He and Belfiore also have a 2-year-old son, James Antonio, and Ceja has two more teen-age children who live with their mother in Cleveland.
Ceja's radiation oncologist, Dr. Eric W. Svenson, has lifted his spirits. "He was positive. He talked to me straight up about the disease. He wanted to start immediately" with treatments, Ceja said. "I was sitting around for a month. I felt like I was dying a little every day."
Ceja says he'll battle cancer while "sitting on my couch, not from a hospital bed weighing 125 pounds. ... People hear the 'c' word and they're beat before they start the fight, you know what I mean? I plan on being around for a long time."
"That sounds like the Kevin I know," Welsh said.
shaulis@vindy.com