When Hanford Police Chief Carlos Mestas leans back in his chair, puts his hands behind his head and laughs, it's hard to believe that this is a man who just underwent major surgery. Many local residents questioned the chief's absence when on May 28 Dave Hawk was arrested as the primary suspect in his wife's murder. Why wasn't Mestas present for such an event?

His answer: a 12-inch scar across his stomach, with 35 staples holding it together; the last remnants of a pancreatic tumor.

"I want to apologize to the community for being so secretive," Mestas, 59, said. "I should have been open and brought everything out to the community. Being a cop for 32 years, you put up a shield where people can't hurt you, you get used to that, but we are all susceptible to age and disease. Those can take anyone down. In a position like this, you have to wear this armor, because we have to stand up against all that is bad."

Mestas said he kept his medical condition a secret from everyone but his family and command staff.

"As chief of police, though, I probably should have let more people know what a trying experience I was going through," Mestas said.

Four years ago, Mestas suffered from an attack of pancreatitis, which is an inflammation of the pancreas that causes persistent abdominal pain. As a result, he spent four days in a hospital hooked up to IVs and receiving morphine for his symptoms. When his time there was over, he was released and told that everything was OK.

In September 2007, the pancreatitis came back with a vengeance. The chief was rushed to the emergency room at St. Agnes Medical Center in Fresno, where he spent four days being examined by a gastrointestinal specialist. After a careful examination, some medication for the pain and a magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) scan to help find the problem, medical officials came back with a diagnosis.

Mestas had a tumor in his pancreas.

"At this point, I was getting a little concerned," Mestas said. "I mean, I was 58 years old, I have five children and one grandchild. I thought, I'm kind of young to be leaving this world right now. And quite frankly, I wasn't afraid for myself. I was afraid for my family."

In March of this year, Mestas found himself in San Francisco undergoing another series of tests and additional MRIs. Doctors would follow this with a biopsy, where a small amount of mucus clogging the pancreatic duct was removed and tested for cancer cells.

The results were benign. But doctors couldn't get far enough into the pancreas to be certain.

"It's funny how you start to cherish life," Mestas said. "I remember thinking to myself, if the doctor says I have to eat fried cockroaches for the rest of my life to get through this, then bring them on. Tell me what it takes, and I'll do it.

"Of course, thinking about it now, I don't think I would like to eat fried cockroaches, but the experience made me see life so differently."

The best option, according to the doctors, was a pancreaticoduodenectomy, more commonly known as the "Whipple procedure." This technique removes almost half of the pancreas and rearranges certain internal organs to keep the body functioning properly.

"They told me I had to make a decision about when to do this in the next six months," Mestas said. "I had a daughter graduating from college -- my fourth daughter -- and my youngest girl was joining the varsity swimming team. I wanted to be there to watch her swim, and I did.

"So, I scheduled the procedure for May 28 and my last day of work would be on May 27."

Of course, as fate would have it, the Kings County District Attorney's office wanted to meet with the chief on his last day. According to them, it was time to arrest Dave Hawk, but the chief would be in mid-procedure then.

"I told them, fine, if you guys feel confident in it, then we feel confident in it," Mestas said.

And with this decision soon came regret.

"People questioned why I wasn't around," he said. "The only people I told was my secretary, my captains and my lieutenants. Then people began to wonder if I was on vacation, if I was coming back, if I had a terminal illness. Rumors spread. Right now, I'm penning a memo to all of the departments in my station, personally apologizing for not telling them that I was going through this.

"I remember, on my last day, I was going to take my uniform and badge home with me. I was standing there, looking, ready to take it. And then I said to myself: I'm leaving this here, because I am coming back."

The operation lasted six-and-a-half hours. When Mestas awoke, it was to find himself in the intensive care unit, completely hooked up to hoses, IVs and breathing tubes. His every movement was restricted. For several days, he was left without answers, spending his time learning to breathe properly with an oxygen tube down his throat. Every twinge ached. As Mestas described it, it was the most physically and emotionally trying time of his life.

But when the pathologist saw him on the third day, the outlook was good. The tumor was benign. Everything looked great.

Every day in the hospital, his wife Colleen remained at his side. A few weeks later, she would become the assistant chief of police in Visalia after 20 years in the Fresno County Sheriff's Department.

"I have to thank her for being at my side," Mestas said. "She went through hell. She was with me every day at the hospital, all day long. She also had to take care of my 15-year-old daughter and she began to question what she would do about her new job if something happened to me, if I didn't make it. She didn't think she could do it.

"But I told her no matter what, you go for it, you need to do that."

Soon, a leak began to form in the great secret. Friends and community members began to hear where the chief was and how a long recovery process for the man had only just begun. By the time he left the hospital, Mestas said his room looked like a florist's shop.

"I spent 16 days in the hospital and then I got to go home," Mestas said, "on Friday the 13th, of all days."

Five weeks passed before Mestas could return to work, but during that time, he began to discover things about life he never noticed before.

"I would read in my backyard and marvel at what God has put there," Mestas said. "I would see lizards on the wall and the birds would sound so much different, so beautiful. I had time to think rather than living life in the fast lane. We all go through life as creatures of habit, but now I stop and think about how there is more to living than just working and going through the motions.

"I started going a bit stir-crazy, though."

Now, the chief is back in his office. He dug his college master's degree out of a box to frame and put on his wall. Pictures of his family sit on nearly every surface in the room. Small piles of paper need to be reviewed. The job of Hanford's chief of police will not rest, even when he returns to the hospital in six months to confirm the status of his recovery.

But in the meantime, something else has changed for the veteran law enforcement official.

"I appreciate things more, people more," he said. "I appreciate nature more. I love sitting in my backyard, reading, listening to the birds. I didn't have enough time to read before. Now I make time. For pleasure, and to learn.

"I live as if every day is my last, but I also live to try and reach 100. I know it sounds contradictory, but that's exactly how I feel."

The reporter can be reached at 583-2425.

(July 26, 2008)