Matthew Newman
By Frank Quattrone
For a man who professes to have lost his belief in irony, cancer survivor Matthew S. Newman’s life of late has been riddled with irony. And considering the gravity of his diagnosis with grade 3 astrocytoma (brain cancer) just five years ago, he finds it much easier to smile these days than he ever thought possible.
You see, today Matt Newman is cancer-free. Along his perilous journey from then to now, he has discovered his new life’s calling. Eloquently expressed in a personal interview at his Washington Crossing home on April 30—and echoed throughout his recently published memoir, Starting at the Finish Line: My Cancer Partner, Perspective and Preparation—he sums it up succinctly with the words, “You shouldn’t have to go through this to realize the value and beauty of life, of living life to the fullest in the moment.”
Matt was only thirty-nine years old—enjoying a healthy lifestyle, a successful professional career as a financial services wholesaler, and blessed with his beautiful wife, Rebecca, their three adorable children (Luke, Jake, and Lola), and two frisky dogs—when the fateful accident occurred.
It was a frigid, snowy day in February 2013. Driving slowly and carefully because of icy conditions along Route 202 near Bridgewater, New Jersey, Matt hit the brakes and turned the wheel of his vehicle quickly to avoid contact with a car that was stopped just ahead. His Mercedes hit the median, knocked over some signs on the road, and his airbag inflated as he struck the car in front of him. He jumped out of his vehicle, apparently unscathed, to check on the passengers in the car he hit. They were shaken and upset but otherwise fine. Although Matt’s car had been totaled, he felt lucky to have avoided an even more serious accident, especially when the tow-truck driver told him that most people in accidents like this ended up in an ambulance.
And yet ignoring the advice of police who had rushed to the scene, as well as the admonition of his worried wife, to have himself checked out at the hospital, Matt went about his business as if nothing had happened. But the brutal headaches, which worsened with each passing day, soon began. They affected his sleep. He began experiencing slurred speech, hot flashes, and momentary mental lapses that lasted just seconds but felt much longer. He would fall asleep earlier than usual, say, at 8:30 p.m., and wake up in excruciating pain less than two hours later.
The pain in his head was alleviated only when Matt did his regular workout. One day when he and Rebecca were running and chatting on the scenic towpath along the Delaware, not far from where George Washington and his troops crossed the icy river on Christmas Day 1776, he suddenly realized he could not speak. He thought he might have suffered a mini-stroke. These symptoms were now affecting his personal as well as his professional life.
Alarmed, after months of discomfort, he finally sought help from his physician, who suggested it might just be severe sinus headaches and prescribed some appropriate medication. But on May 14, 2013, in North Jersey, in the middle of a presentation Matt was doing on financial planning, he suffered what he thought was a mini-seizure. Disoriented, he wrapped up the presentation as quickly as he could, realizing he needed hospital care.
Matt called Rebecca, who met him at the relatively new Capital Health Hospital, just minutes from his home and already acclaimed as a center for neurological issues. The healthcare professionals there immediately ordered a CAT scan, which revealed an anomaly where the pain was emanating. The MRI, which came seven long hours later, identified what they called a “lesion” on his brain. At first Matt felt relieved, believing that a lesion was just a cut or a bruise. But the hours of tests were just beginning, as Matt was soon wheeled in to get an MRA (a Magnetic Resonance Angiogram, which allows doctors to see inside one’s blood vessels). Understandably curious, he asked a nurse what was up, only to be told they had discovered a brain tumor.
That was when Matt’s world momentarily crumbled. Not easily given to tears, he found himself crying uncontrollably, wondering “Why me?” and what would happen to the rest of his life. Then he began to scream. He was only thirty-nine years old. “That was it,” Matt told me. “It was my lowest point. I knew then that I had to fight to survive.”
After an EEG the next day, Matt was taken in to surgery, which lasted three hours. His surgeon told him that no pain-killers could be used, as the brain needed to be monitored carefully throughout the procedure with no interference from medication. And he assured Matt that a positive attitude would go a long way toward recuperation.
The tumor, he was told, was pressing against the speech center of his brain. Talk about alarm bells ringing in his head! Matt was a professional speaker for his firm. If he couldn’t speak, what would become of his career? Even though he had sensibly followed his own advice, taking care to secure the long-term needs of his family, including college tuition for his children, Matt was not ready to give up. He wanted to continue to enjoy the family activities, including trips to Disney World, that had become such a crucial part of his life.
That night, Rebecca’s dad and mom, Larry and Jackie Beach, watched over the children, as they anxiously awaited word from the hospital. Ironically, once again, Larry and Matt, who had always been close, had quietly become partners in combat. Two years before Matt’s accident and subsequent medical traumas, Larry had received his own shocking diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Despite his physical weakness, inability to eat, and other debilitating effects of radiation and chemotherapy, Larry (just as Matt had been for him two years earlier) proved to be a rock. The two men, brought together by the loving and amazingly strong-willed Rebecca, now bonded more closely than ever and became, with Matt’s wife Rebecca, each other’s principal means of support.
After his successful surgery, Matt’s goal was to return home as soon as possible. As the swelling subsided rather quickly, Matt was home within two days. Home, surgeons agree, is the best place to recuperate, as patients slowly begin to resume normal activities. By day eleven, Matt had returned to the gym. By day twelve, he was golfing again with his father, who was also a financial planner. Within two weeks, he was back to work.
Matt—like Larry, a fighter by nature—knew that he had to maintain a positive attitude. While the cancer could not be viewed as a gift, it did provide him with a fresh perspective. He recalls one incident, about five days after his surgery, when Rebecca drove him to their son Luke’s school for a Father’s Day picnic. Even in his weakened state, Matt had an epiphany. Noticing that virtually every other father there seemed to be spending more time on their smartphones than enjoying the company of their sons, he realized how critical it was “to be in the moment and not to waste one minute more.”
He noticed at work, too, that his presentations and interactions had begun to change. “I became more real,” he said. “I began talking about the fragility and value of life through the prism of my own experience.” And despite his optimism and support of his family, despite his faithfully following the prescribed medical protocols, Matt began to vomit at irregular intervals. He began losing his hair, so he had his head shaved. He even lost sensation in his taste buds. His ability to eliminate bodily waste also became a challenge. The radiation therapy also made him lethargic.
Through it all, with Rebecca’s and Larry’s support, he never lost heart, never lost hope, never complained, and maintained his belief that every moment counted. “You never know,” he said. Somehow, like Larry, whom he calls a “warrior” as well as dear friend, he found the strength to go on. During his successful battle against cancer (he is now five years cancer-free) he attended some support groups and began coaching and teaching others diagnosed with this dreaded disease. He also started writing about his battle in blogs, which he found cathartic and which ultimately became the genesis of his book.
His father-in-law Larry, on July 28, 2014, ultimately succumbed to his cancer, but the “warrior” lived heroically with his affliction for four years, roughly three more than the most hopeful prognosis, and he continued to enjoy spending time with Rebecca and Matt and, mostly, with his three grandchildren.
Matt says, “I used to believe in irony. No longer. That car accident—I still don’t know if I hit my head—allowed me to find this new path of community and to reach out to help others in need.” He recalls fondly the day the hospital staff rang the symbolic gong for him, signaling the successful completion of his radiation therapy—a tradition for all cancer survivors, a veritable celebration of life. Now Matt gives talks all across the country to inspire and motivate other cancer survivors, and he receives heartfelt messages of thanks both in person and on his website.
A motto on Matt’s T-shirt, as he watches and supports Rebecca on her annual Broad Street Run on the first Sunday in May—sums up his newfound philosophy. It reads: “Be strong when you are weak. Be brave when you are scared. Be humble when you are victorious. Be badass every day!”
His self-published memoir, Starting at the Finish Line: My Cancer Partner, Perspective and Preparation, can be found online on amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and on his own website: www.startingatthefinishline.com. As you’ll discover when you read this uplifting book (citing a line on the back cover): “Matt’s memoir chronicles the journey that his entire family and support group took together which got him to a place of clarity, understanding and appreciation.”