My brother is dying. His
journey is a very sad one. Last summer he developed back pain. Everyone has
back pain occasionally; some even live with it all the time. It is no surprise
that anyone with this kind of discomfort would try to treat it on their own, or
live with the pain. And that is what my brother did. He ignored the nagging
pain, until he could no longer, then he scheduled a visit with his doctor.
Thus began his journey,
a journey I truly wish he wasn't on. Exams were done and tests were ordered,
including a PET Scan. Sadly, the lining of my brother's abdomen lit up like a
Christmas tree full of neon lights as the radioactive tracers injected into his
vein identified the source of his "back pain." He was now at war with B-Cell Non-Hodgkin
Lymphoma ravaging his "peritoneum,"
the membrane that lines the abdominal cavity and covers most of the abdominal organs.
Peritoneal cancer is
rare and acts and looks like ovarian cancer. Obviously, this cancer should be
more common in women, and it is...talk about stupid, bad luck. My brother is a
true victim of just that.
With an attitude to beat
the unlikely odds, he began his chemotherapy: four, maybe six rounds, depending
on his response. Every round of treatment bounced him back in to the hospital
as he developed low blood cell counts, anemia, fevers and infections. Still, he
fought to hear the news after round four that his cancer had improved by 90%.
The very next day after
receiving this joyful news in the end of January, he fell ill and was
hospitalized again. Then, late into the
evening hours, lying in his hospital bed, it happened. My brother had cardiac
arrest that stole 10 minutes of his life while the astute and heroic staff at the
Avon Cleveland Clinic worked tirelessly and successfully to resuscitate him.
Little did he, or we,
his loved ones, know that the next leg of his journey would prove to be even
more grueling. My brother, you see, has been in a hospital bed since January
31st, and he will never go home.
Did I mention that I
hate stupid cancer??
While my brother is
fighting this fight some 200 miles away from me, I think about him every single
day, wishing his journey with suffering would end, knowing it's a choice I
cannot make for him. I can, however, turn to my loved ones, to seek comfort
from my own sadness as I grieve for my brother's plight. My loved ones, by the
way, are both two-legged and four.
Frequent phone calls and
text messages with my other siblings help to acknowledge my feelings of
helplessness and sorrow, as they share the same. When not communicating with
them, however, I turn to my other loved ones...those with four legs.
I've always known that
animals bring comfort to humans. As a veterinarian, I witness this phenomenon
every day. But, now it is I who needs comfort, as I am a spectator on the
sideline watching my brother be defeated.
By choice, my husband
and I surround ourselves with no less than four house pets at a time. Each one
of them provides us with unconditional love, joy and happiness. So, when my
grief becomes overwhelming, I instantly reach for one of them and I feel my
sadness abate as my blood pressure sinks and I begin to feel uplifted.
For me, pets ARE "the
best medicine" of all, and the ultimate caregivers. I witness the power of
their healing every day in my profession and that is why I promise you that the
American Cancer Society's Bark for Life fundraising event is "a walk woof
taking." This mini-relay honors the life-long contributions of canine
caregivers and empowers people, through their canine partnerships, to
contribute to cancer cures via the mission of the American Cancer Society.
While I am more than
aware that my efforts to stop cancer will not help my brother, I can only hope
that I might impact the future health and lives of his children and
grandchildren. I ask you to join me and
so many others to help "Finish the Fight." The life you save may be
your own.
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