Cancer scare sobering for Rowan coach Joe Cassidy

LIKE A LOT of fair-skinned people, Joe Cassidy knew all about the dangers of getting too much sun. And like a lot of folks as they get older, at some point he figured it might be a good idea to finally see a specialist. Just in case.

"My wife (Betty Ann) has always been on me about taking care of myself," said Cassidy, who's been the Rowan basketball coach for the last two decades and a baseball/softball umpire for twice that long. "I had a little blotch on (the left side of) my face that was discolored, about the size of a quarter. My daughter (Devon) was going to this dermatologist, so I made an appointment. I was hoping it was a sun spot, or something like that. Turned out I actually had a couple of them. A week later they called and said one was cancerous and had to be cut out.

"I my mind, it wasn't that big a deal. Then I researched it a little bit. At one point the doctor said, 'It can kill you. People die.' That makes you think a little bit more."

That was June 2014. Not that going through the removal procedure slowed him down any.

"I had this huge bandage wrapped around my head," Cassidy recalled. "I looked like the guy from the Revolutionary War with the fife and drum, the whole bit. And I'm supposed to ump that night. My wife and I got into an argument. Of course she didn't want me to. She asks the nurse to tell me I can't. But (the nurse) says she ain't getting involved in it. Then the doctor comes in and says I can do anything I want. So I did.

"It was a slow-pitch game, and it's like 92 degrees and the bandages start falling off. At least the teams were familiar with what had happened. But it was stunning how many people came up and said, 'I've had some skin cancer.' It's just that mine was a little bigger and had to be cut out."

Did we forget to mention that Cassidy didn't use a sunscreen? Even after he had that scare. But now he insists he's going to start. Because last month he had to endure another close encounter with a scalpel. And that was one too many, even for him.

"Once you have it, they want you to come back every three months for a checkup the first year, then every six months after that," said Cassidy, an Ardmore native who went to Archbishop Carroll and Saint Joseph's, where he was the Hawk for two seasons in the mid 1970s. "I was scheduled to go in on a Thursday, and I literally noticed that Monday that I had a little brown spot in the same place. This time it was about the size of a dime. I said something to my wife, and she said she'd noticed it two weeks before but didn't want to say anything. So they get a biopsy and it was melanoma again, and I needed more surgery."

This time it was much more extensive. He had to undergo Mohs Micrographic surgery, a highly specialized, precise technique that involves progressively removing and examining thin layers of the affected area followed by reconstructive measures that allow the surrounding healthy tissues to be minimally impacted.

It's complex and time-consuming, but helps increase the chances of a cure while decreasing the need for additional treatments.

"It lasted 10 hours," said Cassidy, who was an assistant at Drexel (1980-91) under Eddie Burke and on John Giannini's staff when the Profs won the Division III national title in 1996. "I got to the hospital early in the morning. I had tickets for the La Salle-Miami game that night (Dec. 22) at the Palestra. The doc said no problem, he'd get us out of there. We didn't make it. They cut you and scrape it out, then you have to wait for the (diagnosis) before they can move on . . .

"There was a half-dozen people, all guys, when I first walked in (the waiting room). It looked like St. Patty's Day. There were some good-looking Irish guys sitting around. Every single one of them looked just like me (complexion-wise).

"When the nurse was ready to give something to kill the pain, I couldn't believe how big (the needle) was. The reason (the incision) was so wide is they want to try and get it all. They thought they did the first time but it came back. No one knows the answer."

Eventually, it makes an impression. Especially when you're left with a 100-stitch scar on your cheek.

"My wife stayed with me in the operating room . . . (but) she couldn't take it anymore when she saw the open wound," said Cassidy, who did not miss any coaching time during the ordeal. "That's when it kind of shocked me. It wasn't little. They cut up a whole big space.

"They told me (the scar) will go away in a couple of months. It's still a little freaking scary."

You think? And not only for him.

"I did tell him for years, but he basically ignored me," Betty Ann said. "All his brothers and sisters have issues with their skin, but they haven't had anything as dramatic. We have great plans for traveling together, doing all these things, and to think that you might not get to do them is scary. And our daughter's in her first year of college. He has a lot to live for. At least now he's trying, thank goodness. I just hope he remembers all this come March . . .

"When you're watching someone do something like that to someone you love, it's tough. I wanted to keep him company (during the surgery), but then I felt guilty getting up and leaving. I'm a teacher. I never could have been a nurse, for sure. It was a bad move on my part, not one of my finer moments. I'd seen all the blood and guts I could take for one day. I couldn't watch anymore. I had to get out of there. It was really hard. Then when you think about it you feel like you're reliving it."

Suffice it to say that Cassidy will start applying something with a suitable SPF to protect himself. Even if the sweat runs into his eyes through that umpire mask, which was the reason/excuse he used all these years for not taking the proper precautions.

"When I started, my parents literally had to drive me (to the game) because I didn't have a car yet," said Cassidy, who got a degree from the Al Somers School for Umpires and has worked at the collegiate and high school levels. "It's something I've done my whole life and I enjoy it. But the doctor stressed that I have to really be careful. I need to load up (with sunblock). The message is there: Don't end up like me. If my checkup didn't come at the right time, it could have been a lot worse.

"When you're 21, you think you're invincible. What can go wrong? Well, I'm 63 and I know better. Growing up, I was never a beach person, even in college. My outdoor activities were running and umpiring. I never wear a hat, except when I'm umpiring. And I have a dozen hats at home. Not anymore."

And if a picture is worth a winning Powerball ticket, he's certainly got the evidence to pass along.

"When I go to the next umpire meeting, I'll have the pictures on my phone to show anyone who wants to see them," Cassidy said. "I'll let the young guys know I'm the old man telling you what to do. If it keeps one person from dying, it's a plus. When I showed up at practice with the big bandages I said the same thing to my players. I just want them to listen. Because I didn't. And my wife was right.

"When they told me I could die from what I had, it was the most sobering thing. I was like, 'Hmmm, that's an interesting thought.' So yes, I can put up with the sweat."

kernm@phillynews.com

On Twitter: @mikekerndn