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May 2, 2007

Slowing, but not stopping

Biology professor doesn’t let serious disease dampen his passions

Story by: Alexa Garcia-Ditta

The Shorthorn staff

The Shorthorn: Rebekah Workman

Biology professor Joe Kuban stands among the colorful fields of Tandy Hills Park waiting for his ecology seniors to arrive for class. His favorite flower in the park is the prairie celestial.

One late night while researching at Big Bend National Park, Joe Kuban thought his life was over.

The biology professor drove his truck down the same dirt road toward the mesquite tree he always parked under. Only this time, he stumbled upon a group of Hells Angels-type bikers and stopped his truck suddenly, causing rocks and dust to dull the luster of the black-and-silver motorcycles. Before he knew it, the bikers were pulling him out of his truck onto the dirt ground.

“I thought, ‘I’m gonna get the crap beat out of me,’ ” Kuban said.

Amidst his shock, Kuban noted the bottles of tequila scattered around the bikers’ campfire. As he was being manhandled, he hurriedly pointed to a nearby century plant.

“I quickly apologized and said, ‘I study these plants,’ ” Kuban said. “I told them, ‘They make tequila from these plants, and I’m trying to figure out how they reproduce so we can have more tequila for the future.’ ”

“Before I knew it, I was sitting with them drinking tequila.”

Kuban would find out many years later that although the motorcycle gang wasn’t lethal, the century plant may have been.

Kuban has Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, sometimes called Lou Gehrig’s disease, a disease of the nervous system that ultimately paralyzes the muscles. It is often fatal.

Kuban, who teaches here and at Fort Worth’s Nolan Catholic High School, said he first noticed his calves cramping in 2005.

“My doctor thought it was related to [the drug] Lipitor, which I was taking at the time,” he said.

The leg cramps continued, and in spring 2006, a chaperone on a class field trip noticed Kuban was hiking slower than usual.

“I felt kind of like maybe there were rocks on my back,” he said.

He began limping, and his fingers started twitching that summer. After several neurology tests and visits to specialists, Kuban was diagnosed with environmental ALS in September.

Even though his doctors still haven’t pinpointed the cause, the biology professor has a hypothesis.

“My guess is that overexposure to mercury is what triggered my ALS,” he said.

It is the same mercury that can be found in the century plants he studies and loves.

Daragh Heitzman, director of the ALS/Motor Neuron Disorder Clinic at Texas Neurology in Dallas, said that between 20,000 and 30,000 people have ALS in the U.S. and that 10,000 Americans contract either familial or environmental ALS every year.

Dr. Heitzman said a person’s life expectancy after being diagnosed with ALS is three to five years.

“It’s one of those slowly progressive diseases that will result in someone’s death,” he said.

He pointed out how peculiar it is that only the good guys contract ALS.

“That’s why it’s called the ‘nice people disease,’ ” Heitzman said.

Day By Day

The Shorthorn: Rebekah Workman

Kuban holds a delicate blue flax flower found in Tandy Hills Park in Fort Worth. Kuban takes his Nolan Catholic High School seniors to the park once a week to study wildlife.

Every morning, Kuban gets up at 5:20 to have coffee and breakfast.

“It slows me down a little bit, so I have to get up earlier,” he said.

He finds himself gripping stairway railings and stopping more often as he goes from place to place. He doesn’t need a wheelchair yet, but he does wear a brace on his right leg.

While Kuban doesn’t have breathing problems yet, he said his mouth muscles weaken quickly. Toward the end of the day, his words start to slur.

“In the evening, my brain is working too fast for my mouth to follow,” he said.

Kuban has also been forced to adjust his wardrobe.

“I usually wear pants with stretch waists because they’re easy to get on,” he said. “I have to button my shirt before putting it on. It takes me about another eight to 10 minutes to get dressed.”

For the Love of Teaching

“The two things that I love the most — hiking and playing the guitar — I can’t do anymore,” he said.

The first of these loves came from growing up on his family’s farm in Wichita Falls.

The Shorthorn: Rebekah Workman

Kuban and his Nolan Catholic High School seniors examine plants and gather data at Tandy Hills Park in Fort Worth. Kuban takes his students to the park weekly.

Kuban spent hours alone closely watching cottontail bunnies, snakes and turtles interact with one another and the Earth.

“Being outside and being able to see nature, I think, is what inspired me to be where I am today,” he said.

Kuban graduated from UTA with a biology bachelor’s in 1972 and a master’s in 1974. His master’s adviser, biology professor Bob Neill, then offered Kuban a fresh opportunity at Kuban’s alma mater — Nolan Catholic High School.

“Dr. Neill encouraged me to take a teaching position at Nolan,” Kuban said. “He told me that teaching for one year would put all my courses together to give me the big picture of biology.”

So Kuban took on biology and ecology classes at the school. In getting the big picture, though, he soon discovered another passion.

“I fell in love with teaching,” he said.

Getting his doctorate in biology at Syracuse University allowed Kuban to continue traveling to Big Bend to research for three years. He moved back to the Metroplex to finish his last year of school in absentia.

For five years, Kuban has given back to a university he calls home. However, his students at Nolan hold a special place in his heart — so much so that he found himself back on his old stomping grounds to educate high school students on milkweeds and cutleaf daisies.

Once a week, he and his senior ecology students travel about five miles down the road to Tandy Hills Park to gather data and study the intricate flowers and other plants that grow there.

The Nolan community has made several adjustments to help Kuban in his everyday work. Students rush to his side to help him out of a chair, and administrators have installed a microphone in his classroom so he doesn’t have to raise his voice when lecturing.

“Every year Dr. Kuban sings the seniors a song at our talent show,” said Nolan senior Sydney Riegel, 18. “He tells us that he wears a mic to save his voice. I hope he’ll be able to do it this year.”

Still Rockin’

Another thing Kuban is losing is his ability to jam.

He and his brothers, fully equipped with long hair and heavy-metal guitars, started a rock ’n’ roll band in high school in the ’70s. They continued to play while attending UTA.

“I used to make my living playing at fraternity and sorority parties,” Kuban said.

Kuban brought his musical ear to UTA, where he found Tim Henry, an anatomy and physiology lecturer.

“He brought his guitar to school one day. We went over to one of the labs and started jamming,” Henry said. “We’re quite compatible.”

The Shorthorn: Rebekah Workman

Kuban and his bandmates, Pam Sutherland and Tim Henry, anatomy and physiology lecturer, practice a song from their second CD. Joe Kuban and the Lost Chizo Band records its music in Rockwall.

Henry then joined Kuban’s band, Joe Kuban and the Lost Chizo Band, named for an American Indian tribe that lived in Big Bend.

“Big Bend is such an inspirational place,” Kuban said. “All of the proceeds of the first CD went to the Big Bend Natural History Association.”

Henry calls Kuban a “prolific musician” but has noticed changes in his bandmate.

“He gets tired easily,” Henry said. “He used to sing three sets in a four-hour period.”

Kuban’s brother, John, has also noticed some differences in his brother’s musical performance.

“He has some difficulty with his pitch,” John said. “You expect something like that to happen.”

The band is recording its second CD, It’s West Texas, more quickly than usual because the future is uncertain for its lead singer.

“It’s tough. It takes you unexpectedly,” John said. “We want to get it done while we can. We don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Kuban said he is beginning to feel a weakness in his fingertips and can’t easily hold a guitar pick. He predicts he won’t be able to play with his band much longer.

“I want them to keep playing without me,” he said.

Slowing, But Not Stopping

The positive side of Kuban’s struggle is that he appreciates the people around him more.

His love for his wife of 10 years, DeLane, has been strengthened. DeLane said they are still adjusting to the changes that come with ALS.

“Initially, it was like somebody had hit me over the head,” she said. “The scariest part is not knowing what’s going to happen and for how long.”

What were once eventful weekends of antique shopping and hours spent at Central Market have changed for the Kubans. They still go, just not as often.

“He has to rest,” DeLane said. “Things have slowed down. They haven’t stopped.”

Kuban said his ALS has made him more aware of his emotions and that he has become more affectionate toward his students.

“I’ve also become so complimentary,” he said. “I want people to feel special. Life is too short to not be appreciated.”

Being diagnosed with a fatal disease changed his perspective, he said. The everyday stresses and concerns that used to plague him don’t as much. He has great concern for his students’ well-being and doesn’t “freak out” about what now seem like minor things.

Even though ALS means mortality will come sooner rather than later, Kuban has maintained a positive attitude, smiling as he talks. He has accepted his fate and tries to live all that he can.

“I have this ALS for a reason,” he said. “I feel like so many good things have already come to me because of the disease.”

But no disease is powerful enough to prevent him from traveling to see those century plants again.

“[ALS] would never keep me from Big Bend,” he said. “It’s the place I love most on Earth.”