On August 1, 2008, Ray Underhill passed away from complications with his chordoma, not even two years after his initial diagnosis. He was 45 years-old. The former skateboard pro with the Powell-Peralta Bones Brigade during the late eighties left behind Kerry, his wife, their two children, Keaton (13) and Olivia (8), and a laundry list of friends stretching from North Carolina to California 

After tropical storm Hanna swept past their Wilmington, NC, home in early September, Kerry Underhill—a brave, honest and incredibly pleasant person—took a break from picking up the broken branches out of her yard to talk to Chordoma Foundation writer, Craig Hysell. She opens up about Ray’s philosophy, their intense battle with chordoma, finding respite in Tony Hawk’s guest house and her hopes (yes, she still hopes) for the future.

Craig: When did you meet Ray?
Kerry: We met in 1989. Ray used to be a professional skateboarder and was on tour in New York. We met through a mutual friend at a party and clicked right away. When he left we kept up a long distance relationship and I moved out to California 8 months later. It was definite love at first sight… I know that sounds so corny. We got married in 1992 and had Keaton, our son, in 1995 and Olivia, our daughter, in 2000.

C: When did your family find out Ray had chordoma?
K: The summer of 2006. We had moved back to the east coast in August of 1998 to be near our families, but we would go back to California every year for vacation. Ray was actually skateboarding with one of his best friends, Tony (yes, that Tony, Tony Hawk) and his son, Keaton, when he stumbled over his words a little bit. Ray was never sick so we knew that something was going on.

When we got back to Wilmington we headed to Duke in the fall of 2006. The doctors did an MRI and then scheduled a spinal tap in the afternoon. We were confident that they wouldn’t find anything. But, when we showed up for the spinal tap, we heard the MRI results: Ray had a skull base tumor that looked like a chordoma.

C: How did you and Ray deal with the news?
K: We were shocked. The doctors said Ray needed surgery right away. In February of 2007 Ray had the surgery. They got as much as they could, but it was so intertwined around Ray’s nerves and brain stem that they weren’t able to remove it all. At that point we knew we had a bigger battle ahead of us. From there it was one battle after another.

C: Where did you and Ray go from there?
K: A few days after the surgery, the doctor didn’t like the way Ray’s tongue was moving so we had to put a feeding tube in Ray’s stomach. I thought, “Okay, worst-case scenario we have the feeding tube in for a few months.” Ray died with that feeding tube in his belly… Our doctor felt there was no time to wait, we had to go for radiation immediately. We were in California for 11 weeks with 8 weeks of daily radiation at Loma Linda. The upside was that we were only an hour and a half drive from where we used to live. Every Friday we’d drive down to Tony’s and stay in his guest house. We got to spend the weekend with his family and our other friends and relax a little bit.

C: What was Ray’s philosophy on life?
K: Ray was always a very optimistic person. He wasn’t a big worrier. He would keep things inside and wouldn’t let out much information to other people regarding how he was feeling. But, when it was just the two of us, he was afraid. He was angry. He led a very healthy life—although he knew that had nothing to do with his tumor—he didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, he was very athletic. He would just say, “This is not how it’s supposed to be.” I can’t say that chordoma made Ray appreciate his life more because Ray always appreciated every aspect of his life. He never complained, never took anything for granted, he always appreciated his family.

C: How were you doing?
K: I worried every day. He was losing his hair, he was vomiting, he was frustrated with his speech. It became more difficult for him to read to his kids and it was little things like that which really got to him. His first MRI in October had shown no growth, but by January it had grown considerably. That’s when Ray really started to worry, but he was determined to fight it to the end.

We always felt like we were grasping at straws with this disease, that there was no set protocol. After trying different types of chemo there was always new growth with each MRI. We felt like he never got a break.

He had great doctors at Duke and we were lucky to be at Duke but, with the uncertainty of medicine we didn’t feel like there was anything out there that could help us. That’s when Ray met Josh. (Josh Sommer of the Chordoma Foundation). Ray was so impressed with him. He felt that if Josh could do anything so that others don’t have to suffer the way we have suffered it was worth it. When it got to the end with Ray, I had no clue Ray was going to die.

He had gotten weaker and was in and out of the hospital with aspiration pneumonia. The cancer had metastasized into his lungs. But he was still working from home on his laptop for Eastern Skateboard Supply. He had such great bosses… Then he lost ten pounds in two weeks. He was down to 128 pounds and could no longer lay flat for his MRI’s. The doctor was unsure if the chemo was making him weak or if it was the cancer. We were going to take a few weeks off to see if Ray was going to regain his strength.

Keaton, Olivia and I kissed Ray goodbye the next morning. We were going to pick up a little lap dog we had adopted to hang out with Ray—even though Ray always had big dogs and wasn’t too sure about a little “fufu” dog—and Ray died at about 10 a.m. that morning. [Crying] But, I think he died the way he wanted to. He hated hospitals. He always said he didn’t want to die in the hospital…

C: [Holding back tears of his own] How are your kids?
K: Keaton’s just like his dad. He’s a skater, a surfer. He misses him. Ray went everywhere with him. He was always home by 5:30. Our big Friday nights were going to Barnes & Noble and Starbucks. He’s having a hard time. He wonders if he’s going to get sick, too. He and Olivia don’t understand why so many people have been cured of cancer and their daddy wasn’t. Why couldn’t daddy be cured?

Olivia is more a free spirit. She would rub Ray’s feet, comb his hair, help me feed him. Ray always read to her at night and would walk her to the bus stop in the morning. She cries a lot at night. We’re having a hard time getting through it. But we have a lot of great family and friends. We’re going to California for a memorial dinner so that should be good. But Ray is present in every room in our house. His toothbrush is still on the sink. His medicine is still on the counter. We find a lot of peace being at home.

C: Do you believe Ray would have any advice for other chordoma patients?
K: To not give up. To not give up hope. To pray each day that they get closer to finding something, some medication, or even more, a cure so no one has to go through what our family has gone through. We had a rule in our house: never go to bed mad. Just be a ray of hope. Then go out and skateboard.

…Sometimes life is like picking up the branches out of your yard after a storm. You know that someday, one branch at a time, especially with the help of family and friends, the grass is going to grow bright and green again.

Kerry has asked that, in lieu of flowers, donations be sent to The Chordoma Foundation in Ray’s name. Eastern Skateboard Supply along with Ray’s family and friends will be hosting a chordoma fundraiser in Ray’s honor sometime in the spring of 2009. Charlie, the adopted fufu dog, follows Kerry around everywhere.

For more information about Ray please visit www.rayunderhill.com

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Written for the Chordoma Foundation by Craig Hysell