Warning. This is a long, but important post.
I remember it so distinctly. The pacing of the halls. I knew I should be in the room with him, holding his hand. He had refused. I had quickly accepted the safe route and thought the world outside his room would be less tumultuous (for me). For that day was the day that Steve would receive a bone marrow biopsy. Rumors of treacherous pains lead me to believe that I couldn’t watch. I felt guilty. Guilty that I wasn’t physically bedside. Either way, pain or not, there was a deeper issue at heart. The results. The unknown outcome. The inability to help. As Steve was experiencing this moment, I was in utter disbelieve and overwhelmed with helplessness. Had I remained bedside during the procedure, I would have worsened the situation. Instead, I chose to roam the hallways in search of some serenity or guidance.
Pacing up and down. Each time, tempted to look through the doorways into the unknown journey that many others had started before me. This was the oncology floor at UCLA Santa Monica Hospital. At first thoughts, not exactly a place of serenity and hope. Mixed feelings of intrigue, despair, guilt, and desperation overtook my entire being. The feelings so intense that my heart actually ached. A rare feeling that I had falsely experienced in my younger years. A feeling so strong that it overcomes your entire being. I had heard of people who have collapsed, fainted, or felt dizzy while experiencing this state. But, in the past cynicism had always ruled my thoughts making this feeling seemingly gratuitous and unlikely. However, I was wrong. This time it was unlike any other emotion I had felt. True fear, true despair. For the first time in my life I understood the real meaning of a word. Not only did I understand it, I felt it. Fear, the “feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.” I remember this day distinctly. It was the day I cried, alone, on my home late in the evening. I wasn’t sure I would be able to drive home that day. I knew what it meant to be physically paralyzed by emotion. For someone that has always be in control of emotion, this was unlike anything I had experienced. This day I felt something that only someone threatened with the loss of a loved one, can understand. I felt things like these:
“life altering”
“to feel helpless is devastating”
“possibility of them not being with you”
“every single time they are tired, you have to take it seriously”
“amazed at the generosity of others, but you’d give it up in a second to not see your child suffer”
These are all words spoken by mothers of children with cancer. And, although, I experienced a spouse with cancer, these words resonant with me. As I watched the clip below, I again felt each single word as it is spoken. Throughout the past year, I have met so many amazing people. People that you wish you’d met under different circumstances. We’ve had good friends fight cancer, some winning, some unfortunate and some still fighting. Our very close friend has been fighting Melanoma for almost 2 years now. Originally, not expected to live, he has now had one clear PET scan, but recently reoccurring in his spine and brain. Regardless he has made it this far with the support of others. Friends, family, research and even those he doesn’t know. He emailed me 2 days ago, “life is funny, sad, shocking, raw, amazing, and full of surprises. I love life!!!!” … this just 3 days after brain surgery. He has a true appreciation for friends, family, support and an immense love for his doctors and their dedication to research. I don’t want to get into the politics of health care. But, I do want to address the need for help. Help of people’s daily experiences. Help for research. Help for making people’s journeys as comfortable as relatively possible.
It is with this that I ask for your support. MY DONATION LINK (click here)
Cancer research has helped Steve survive. Years ago he would have passed. I realize there are so many charities in need. But for some reason I am so drawn to one local, becoming International, grass roots charity. Lead by Jeff Castelaz & Jo Ann Thrailkill., Pablove directly benefits Childrens Hospital LA. Unfortunately, their son Pablo lost his battle at the heart wrenching young age of 6. But, they are still so thankful for the treatment and care they received. And, even though Steve is an adult and Pablove Foundation is for Childrens Hospital LA, I feel that any cancer research helps everyone. You really don’t know when it may effect you, a loved one, a friend of a friend. The more we research, we prevail. The more we make families and children comfortable at the hospital, the more they prevail. The more access to treatment, the higher the cure rates. All obvious stuff. All in need of financing. Jeff & Joann deserve your help. They are incredible leaders, fighters, givers and just amazing human beings. They don’t want people to ever have to feel the loss they still feel on a daily basis.
Here are some mothers who unfortunately know cancer. Support them.
You can support below. Jeff Castelaz is riding 3000 miles across the US on his road bike to raise money for Childrens Hospital.
(don’t worry you don’t have to sponsor per mile, but you can)
Or if you cycle you can join the ride in your city (Click here) (THE MORE THE MERRIER) and raise money for yourself HERE (Click here)
I have many friends riding with him. You can make your own group.
If you need resources for you or a loved one, go here
And, lastly i leave you with 3 pictures of Steve’s journey
…full of waiting and wondering and unknown
some pain and frustration (sorry the photo is blown out)
And in Steve’s True nature, some laughter.
Thank you. MUCH.
