Life After Chase: Dave Farrell

A Special Thanksgiving
 

Many of our members have reached the age where catch-ups begin with the “organ recital”. Some have faced serious illnesses, and, thankfully, have come through to see the light. This conversation with alumnus Dave Farrell was prompted by his wanting to share a personal expression of Thanksgiving from South Africa, after a particularly arduous battle with squamous cell skin cancer.
 
First, tell us about your background.
 
I am of Anglo-American descent; my father lays at rest in the American cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer overlooking Omaha Beach, Normandy, France. My wife is South African Afrikaans, my late wife Eurasian, my granddaughters Israeli Jewish and October 7th survivors, my South African nephew has just finished reporting directly to the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, my family has Catholics and Jehovah's Witnesses, and my mother sang with Frank Sinatra in World War 2, remaining friends for life. As they say in England, "The whole darn box and dice."
 
Although I have lived and worked in Africa for 65 years, my home town is Oxford, England, where I was born in 1944 and educated until age 16. See the picture of the Oxford coat of arms, with its motto Fortis et veritas - TRUTH IS STRONG – sadly lacking in the world of today! My American roots are in Maryland, in and around Hoopers Island, and the family historian is my cousin Delaware State Senator Stephanie Hansen.
 
"Life After Chase" started for me in 1965, when Chase withdrew its South African retail operations in Johannesburg and Cape Town. I had worked at the 78 Fox Street branch in the Stock Exchange building in Johannesburg, starting in 1962 as a recent school graduate. I worked under the American Bob Dandrea and Steve Pryke, the Managing Director and eventual head of the American Division incorporated within The Standard Bank of South Africa for ongoing trade finance.
 
What are you thankful for? What did you go through?
 
I am “back” after having been out of action for the last 18 months as a result of eight major skin cancer operations in Cape Town.
 
The first surgery on my head, to remove squamous cell skin cancer the size of a burger, was quite a challenge for Dr. Dehan Struwig, my plastic surgeon in Cape Town. He had to burr some 6 centimetres in circumference into my skull to remove everything. This exposed my brain, requiring a fabric patch to be placed on top of the cavity to allow blood vessels to grow and develop and to allow the skin transplant from my stomach to be stapled to the bone of the skull.
 
A negative pressure seal, pipe and pump (2 kilos in weight) was carried 24/7 for six weeks before and after the actual skin transplant, with wound care for two months. The devices were supplied by Smith & Son UK through their SA agent - all high tech. The first operation was touch and go.
 
Although the squamous cells had not metastasized throughout the body affecting inner organs, seven other areas – such as neck, behind the ears, shoulder, leg and wrist –needed squamous cell removal.
 
I also had to make sure my hair was cut and shaved off. Sixteen sessions to remove the glued-on pressure pad and change bandages is no joke.
 
I feared the dear South Indian wound care lady more than the surgeon - and felt I was continually being scalped!
 
You mentioned a million-to-one coincidence?
 
On June 6, 2024, the day of my first emergency operation on my head to, I lay in my hospital bed mulling over my mortality. I looked up at the television monitor on the ceiling and watched film of the American troops being loaded on barges for the invasion of Normandy, on June 6, 1944.
 
My second operation took place on June 18, 2024, the 80th anniversary of the day my father was killed in the fields of Normandy after the Omaha Beach landing. US Army mortuary records show the position of his shrapnel head wound, which is almost in the exact same position as my operation. 
 
How many of these procedures required general anesthesia?
 
Five – made up of a cocktail of narcotics including Ketamine. I had an out-of-body experience, floating above the recovery room where I could see myself and the nursing staff, with color visions from another planet, and the subsequent restoration and sharpness of my memory beyond belief. 
 
The wrist was treated two months ago by a Dr. Alsaaf Parker, a specialist who uses the American MOHS technique to remove, freeze and clear any remaining cancer cells in the surrounding area, and only then close the wound. I received local anesthesia without the need to go under again.  
 
How are you now?
 
I am on the mend, but it's been a difficult process, particularly for the family who care and suffer with you. I still have regular checkups with a dermatologist and have to take care of the hole in my skull for the remainder of my life, I have what they call a "Bump Cap" – a cap insert to protect my head. (See photo) There is other protective headgear on the market.
 
I am still coming to terms with this experience and hope to include it in a book on my life. So much is lost nowadays…the kids sell your house and contents when you are gone…I feel it's important to pen a written record to pass on to future generations. Just do it!
 
Any regrets?
 
My heart goes out to all those who suffer with this condition, much of which could have been avoided with proper care and caution.
 
When you are young, you think you are "bullet proof": Sunscreen lotions, nada, that's for sissies! Common sense does not prevail, and heck, who wants to smell nice in a hard contact sport?..look it's cloudy, no chance of UV damage today. The African sun ravaged my Celtic English skin. 
 
I keep hearing my granddaughter chanting that darn Barney song "Mr. Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine on me." Stay out of it if you can and slap on whatever sunblock is on the market.
 
How did you navigate the South African health system?
 
We have a government-financed hospital system for the general population who cannot afford private health care. There are plans for a National Health System similar to the UK, but the question is when?
 
South Africa has always had first world medical expertise; you may remember Dr. Christiaan Barnard, the heart transplant pioneer. 
 
Many of our doctors and specialists practice in Canada, the United States and the United Kingdom, which creates pressure locally. Excellent ones do remain, however.
 
I joined a closed Medical Aid – Bankmed – when still at Chase in 1962. Over time it becomes expensive, but it is critical as one gets older, my recent case in point!
 
A private hospital and skin specialist would cost circa USD 3K per day, which makes "medical holidays" to South Africa for foreigners a good deal at current exchange rates. You also have a fabulous holiday recovery period.
 
Has the experience changed you?
 
Yes, most definitely. There are many lessons, some I do not fully comprehend, perhaps the most important of which for now are the following:
  • Life is short, make every day count and make darn certain all your personal affairs, such as financial matters and your will, are in order before going to hospital. I must say working in a Bank should instill discipline. As we get older, however, "things" do slip unfortunately – too much comfort zone, winding down and that pesky mobile phone!
  • Reach out to others. Irrespective of our differing beliefs, we are all human and need to live in peace with each other. There are two such recent experiences which left many in tears.
I was lying alone in my hospital ward when another patient was wheeled in right next to me at midnight, though other wards were also available. There was a privacy curtain between us and the attending Doctor asked his patient if he could count from one to five, but he slurred and could not.
 
During the early hours, he got up and went to the bathroom. I simply saw a young lad with a beard and dark skin. Heck, I thought, someone has put out a number on me and I am headed for the "Train Station Wyoming" à la the Yellowstone movie series!
 
We then spent many hours chatting. He had tried to commit suicide, only 18 years of age and rejected by his Muslim girlfriend's family. Here I was after mentoring many young Africans in the bank during my banking career doing it again, telling him his whole life was ahead of him and what my life of 80 years had meant for me.
 
My wife arrived to fetch me and he ran to her. They spoke, and she told him that Jesus had watched over him and brought him back - quite a statement for sure, bearing in mind we are devout Christians. They hugged and were both in tears - me too! We just have to open up and hold our hands out to each other and speak irrespective of who they are.
 
  • In tough times, friends are few and far between. Yes, siree, cherish those who love you. Talk of your experiences.
 
I was told by a lovely Muslim owner at our coffee shop that she would pray for me. We went back and thanked her for her prayers and my ongoing recovery a few months later, she replied that we had blessed her by saying so - more tears.
 
Our local pharmacy here has always shown concern for my situation. I described just one of my experiences to the young pharmacist and she said, " Mr. Farrell, I needed to hear what you have told me at this time in my life" and walked away crying.
 
  • Just say a personal thank you! I hate tick box hospital questionnaires: the nurse was cool, the food sucks, I know more from Google and AI than the surgeon, etc. Send a letter to the hospital executive thanking everyone. They are a dedicated team. My letter was placed on the staff notice board for everyone to see. Find the time and make the effort.
 
And the future?
 
For me, life now begins again at age 81. Somehow my memory is restored beyond belief, I have hundreds of serving and retired bank members supporting my nomination as a Trustee of Bankmed. My hometown Oxford motto, TRUTH IS STRONG, will be my mantra!
 
For all those who suffer - there is hope, just never give up!
 
From the other side of the world, I would like to wish all Alumni a Blessed Thanksgiving this November and over the festive season in December 2025. 

What are you thankful for?

 
If you have something in particular you're thankful for this season, or want to comment on Dave Farrell's story, please let us know at  news@chasealum.org.
 
From Habib Faris: I am thankful for my family and friends for their support last year after quadruple bypass surgery.