Los Angeles Times

Safe from flames, but not out of the woods

- BY PETER ROWE

SAN DIEGO — Olav Johannesse­n’s fast action saved his life. As wildfire swept into Paradise in Northern California, the former Oceanside resident fled with the clothes on his back.

“We saw fire on both sides of the road as we drove to Chico,” said Johannesse­n, 85. “There were people who were slower, and they didn’t make it.”

Though he was out of the Camp fire, he was not out of the woods. A brain cancer patient, Johannesse­n had been in his oncologist’s waiting room in Paradise on Nov. 8 when he heard the evacuation order.

Soon, the medical offices — and most of the town — were reduced to ash.

The timing was terrible. In fleeing to safety, Johannesse­n left behind the medical team that has been managing his care.

Three weeks earlier, surgeons in Chico had removed a tumor from his brain. The day of the fire, he was supposed to start radiation and chemothera­py.

“His medical oncologist, his radiation

oncologist, his neurologis­t — none of those doctors were reachable after the fire,” said Jenna Lavaliere, Johannesse­n’s daughter. “There was a double sense of emergency: A, to get him out, and B, to get him into treatment.”

Within days, Jenna and her husband, Gary Levaliere, had moved her father to their home near Lake Murray in San Diego County and set him up with a new medical team.

During the journey south, the Lavalieres contacted Johannesse­n’s surgeon in Chico, asking him for a referral to San Diego oncologist­s.

They opted for Scripps MD Anderson Cancer Center in La Jolla.

“And the next thing I know,” Jenna Lavaliere said, “I’m on the phone with a wonderful nurse navigator.”

Before he even arrived in Southern California, Johannesse­n had an appointmen­t with his new medical team.

Glioblasto­ma is a brain cancer known for its speed and ferocity. Only about 25% of patients are still alive two years after diagnosis, estimated Dr. Chien Peter Chen, a radiation oncologist with Scripps MD Anderson.

In his mid-80s, Johannesse­n is determined to live — and on his own terms.

After his wife died, Johannesse­n left their Oceanside home more than a decade ago.

In the Sierra Nevada foothills, he moved into a prefabrica­ted home beneath Paradise’s towering jack pines.

The former constructi­on owner quickly grew enamored with Paradise. He remodeled his new home, building a living room and shop. He liked the changing seasons, the relaxed pace of life. He enjoyed chopping wood and dancing at the Italian Garden, a restaurant in Paradise’s modest downtown.

When you meet him, he delivers a crushing handshake with his left hand.

His right hand went numb this summer.

“I thought I had hurt my elbow,” he said.

In September, he was diagnosed with a tumor in his brain’s left hemisphere.

Today, he’s under no illusions about his chances.

“I don’t expect to be whole again,” he said. “But I hope to be able to function.”

His daughter, having spent decades watching her father overcome challenges, is more upbeat.

“He will go about the business of getting stronger,” she predicted, “and living the quality of life that this treatment is buying him.”

At Scripps MD Anderson, Johannesse­n was assigned an oncologist; a radiation oncologist, Chen; and a nurse navigator who is there to answer patients’ and family members’ questions.

Staffers recently fitted Johannesse­n with a mask that will keep his head immobile as radiation is applied.

He’ll undergo those treatments five days a week, across three weeks. At the same time, he’ll have chemothera­py. The chemo eventually will be scaled back, but it will continue for at least a year.

“We’ll be keeping a close eye on him,” Chen said. “He’ll be here for at least a year, maybe two years.”

Longer term, what are his plans?

The Camp fire destroyed 14,000 homes, among them Johannesse­n’s place and all his belongings, including a mint-condition 1968 Ford pickup he had bequeathed to his daughter.

“There’s a small chance” he’ll return to Northern California, Johannesse­n said. “I can’t move too far from my daughter.” She laughed. “Go ahead and dream about all the things you can do,” Jenna Lavaliere said. “It’s good for you to think about that.”

‘There was a double sense of emergency: A, to get him out, and B, to get him into treatment.’ — Jenna Lavaliere, daughter of Olav Johannesse­n, a Camp fire evacuee who is now being treated for glioblasto­ma, a form of brain cancer known for its speed and ferocity

 ?? Eduardo Contreras San Diego Union-Tribune ?? OLAV JOHANNESSE­N, 85, has an aggressive form of brain cancer. He was in an oncologist’s waiting room when he heard the evacuation order for the Camp fire.
Eduardo Contreras San Diego Union-Tribune OLAV JOHANNESSE­N, 85, has an aggressive form of brain cancer. He was in an oncologist’s waiting room when he heard the evacuation order for the Camp fire.

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