[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 154 (2008), Part 3]
[Senate]
[Pages 4248-4249]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                      TRIBUTE TO DR. HARRY CARLOSS

  Mr. McCONNELL. Mr. President, I rise today to pay tribute to a good 
friend and respected Kentuckian, Dr. Harry Carloss. Dr. Carloss has 
worked diligently for over 32 years to treat thousands of his patients 
who face one of life's most terrible illnesses, cancer.
  Originally from Lexington, KY, Dr. Carloss went to the University of 
Louisville Medical School and later worked at the Scripps Clinic and 
Research Foundation in San Diego, CA. Dr. Carloss, along with and his 
wife Barbara, returned a few years later to Kentucky and settled in 
Paducah to practice as an oncologist. Dr. Carloss worked in Paducah for 
28 years, choosing to help those who oftentimes were facing a death 
sentence.
  Along with helping his patients, he became a point man in the 
campaign to battle cancer. He has written medical scientific papers, 
been involved in many research and clinical trials over his career, and 
been given numerous accolades in the form of honors and awards from his 
peers.
  Mr. President, I ask my colleagues to join me in honoring a man who 
worked tirelessly and gave so much of himself to the people he served. 
Recently the Paducah Sun published a story about Dr. Harry Carloss, 
which admirably illustrates the work, sacrifice and commitment Dr. 
Carloss gave to his patients, and to finding a cure for cancer. I ask 
unanimous consent that the full article be included in the 
Congressional Record.
   There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                  [From the Paducah Sun, Mar. 12, 2008]

 Carloss Standing Down--After a Reluctant Withdrawal, Combatant in War 
                    on Cancer Looks Back on Campaign

                          (By Steve Vantreese)

        Paducah, Ky.--A cancer doctor dying of cancer--that sort 
     of story has a dark irony.
        In the case of Paducah oncologist Harry Carloss, happily 
     it isn't true.
        ``I've heard the rumor,'' he said, not particularly 
     offended. ``I don't have cancer. I have physical limitations 
     that forced me to retire.''
        Instead of his primary foe over 32 years as a cancer 
     fighter, a fall from a ladder stopped the 57-year-old Carloss 
     in his oncological tracks. He broke his back, had it 
     surgically repaired as best as could be done--ruined spinal 
     parts removed, at least--and now is debilitated. Not dead, 
     not totally paralyzed, both of which he could have been. Just 
     limited.
        He returned to his practice after injury and surgery, but 
     found after a trial period that he couldn't remain on his 
     feet for any length of time, or sit in most circumstances, 
     for that matter. He makes little reference to ongoing pain, 
     loss of sensation and difficulties in walking that came with 
     the nerve damage.
       ``Other people have far worse problems,'' Carloss notes in 
     self-deferring fashion.
        He's seen enough to know. As once the sole oncologist in a 
     void west of Louisville, south of St. Louis and north of 
     Nashville, Carloss saw a steady parade of patients in dire 
     straits.
        The Lexington native and University of Louisville medical 
     school graduate went to the Scripps Clinic and Research 
     Foundation (San Diego, Calif.) to work in primarily 
     hematology. He and his wife, Barbara, returned to Kentucky, 
     coming to Paducah as a smaller town in which to raise their 
     kids.
        ``I came here to be an oncologist, but I had doubts at 
     first that a town the size of Paducah could support an 
     oncologist,'' Carloss said. ``That turned out to be the joke 
     of the century.''
        In the 28 years that he practiced in Paducah, Carloss 
     treated thousands. When he recently had to cease practice, he 
     found that he had approximately 3,000 current patients on 
     chemotherapy who shifted their cases to other physicians' 
     care.
        Even though cut short by result of accident and injury, 
     Carloss can still claim a lengthy practice in a field that 
     often doesn't produce long runs.
       ``Thirty-two years is a long time to practice as an 
     oncologist,'' Carloss said. ``There is a high burnout rate. 
     Most doctors who do this end up in research or something 
     outside seeing patients every day.''
        One reason is that there is extra emotional burden in 
     specializing in the care of people who in many instances are 
     fatally ill.
        The position of the oncologist has improved through the 
     years as medicine has, yet there is still the excess baggage 
     that comes from serving some of the sickest people.
        ``Their problems become your problems,'' Carloss said. 
     ``Especially during the early years of my practice, before 
     medicine evolved as much, many cancers were just a death 
     sentence.
        ``The stuff we had to use for chemotherapy would either 
     kill you or cure you,'' he said. ``It has to attack cancer 
     cells, but it attacked white blood cells, too. We now have 
     antidotes that chemo patients get to keep their white cell 
     levels from dropping.
       ``There are lots of things we have to battle cancer now 
     that we didn't have then,'' Carloss said. ``And over the 
     years the mortality for cancer has gone down. It's become 
     more of a chronic disease than a death sentence.''
        That has eased Carloss' burden of fighting what too often 
     seemed a losing battle. More clear wins against cancer 
     certainly helped, but he also has learned to benefit 
     patients--and himself--with relative, mitigated victories.
       ``I discovered pretty early that I couldn't fix 
     everything,'' he said. ``What I learned is, while I might not 
     be able to save somebody, there are things I could do. I 
     might give them more time, make sure they had less pain and 
     improve the quality of the life they had left.''
        Carloss said fairly early in his practice he got help in 
     dealing with losses, assistance that came from dying men.
       ``I explained to one man that he was terminally ill and 
     offered him a chance to take part in some research,'' Carloss 
     said.
       ``He really didn't show any emotion and I wasn't sure he 
     understood, so I explained his situation again--and still no 
     emotion.
       ``Then he told me that he'd landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day 
     and everybody in his group was killed but him,'' he said. 
     ``He figured that everything he'd done since that day was a 
     bonus. And he said if he could do anything that would help 
     somebody else with the time he had left, he'd be glad to.''
        A young man told Carloss that there was a blessing in his 
     cancer as opposed to a fatal heart attack.
       ``He said at least he had time to correct his mistakes and 
     say his good-byes to people,'' Carloss recalled.
        Carloss doesn't regret the emotional expenditures from his 
     past practice. He does have some sore spots about some of its 
     frustrations.
       ``Because of the way treatment is paid for, all services 
     aren't available to everybody,'' Carloss said.
        He said Medicare regulations and the resulting insurance 
     coverage parameters are such that every cancer patient simply 
     cannot get access to some of the drugs that might be 
     beneficial.
       ``Now drugs have become so expensive that reimbursement 
     drives what can be used for a patient,'' Carloss said. ``I 
     could, or I used to could write you a prescription for a drug 
     that would cost you $72,000 for a year's supply. There are 
     drugs available that nobody can afford.
       ``That's the part of the practice that I don't miss,'' he 
     said. ``Before, in the first 25 years of my practice, if 
     there was a drug out there, I could use it for a patient and 
     it would be paid for. We never turned anybody away if they 
     didn't have the money.''
        Beyond patient care in small town America, Carloss has 
     been a point man in the campaign to counter cancer.
        He has been involved in a wealth of research and clinical 
     trials through the years. He likewise has been a prolific 
     writer of medical scientific papers.
        Carloss' honors and awards among medical peers have 
     stacked up through his career. His foremost recognition may 
     be his selection for mastership in the American College

[[Page 4249]]

     of Physicians, which comes only for those cited for 
     exceedingly stellar career achievements.
        Carloss, a plain talker might say, had a lot of irons in 
     the fire. His injury-forced retirement was such an abrupt 
     change in schedule, the reversal of pressure was so extreme 
     that it might have produced the bends in a mental sense.
        Long days of life and death decisions were suddenly 
     switched over to longer days of no particular commitments.
       ``I had lots of people that I was taking care of, and it 
     took me two months to stop calling the office every day to 
     check on them,'' he said. ``I solve problems during the 
     night, and it took me two months before I could sleep through 
     the night and not be lying there working things out in my 
     head.''
        The demands of the career don't seem to have taken a 
     regrettable toll, however.
       ``If I could do it all over tomorrow, I'd do it again,'' 
     Carloss said.

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