The day after I found out Brendan's diagnosis, I spent way too much time on the internet learning everything it could show me about the cancer, volunteer opportunities, t-shirts, wrist bands, car magnets, survivor blogs, treatments, charities and organizations. It was the only thing I could think to do in order to make a feeble attempt on getting my hands on that cancer. When I sent an email to Brendan and my parents asking if they would do the walk with me, I didn't mention how much I had needed them to say yes. Especially Brendan.
I never, ever expected anything more than the four of us sauntering 5K on a Sunday afternoon.
On Wednesday, July 21st I sat in the library with Josh and told him I wanted to do this walk and asked him to help me think of a team name while we studied for the MCAT. I had called Brendan a few times to throw names around, everything we could think of was funny - but totally inappropriate for a walk in broad daylight where there would be children, the elderly, and people we did not know and who did not know our sense of humor. A lot of really bad puns were tossed around in that library, and no one was thinking about inorganic chemistry.
By July 28th a bold $810 stood under the team name Walking 'phoma Brother on the Lymphomathon website and would continue to smash onward and upward.
Then suddenly it's late August, and it has been a difficult month for everyone. Brendan finds out he has to get his wisdom teeth pulled before he starts treatment, so on Wednesday the 18th bright and early he gets them removed from his head - and then goes to orientation for the PT job he has just started. I get a phone call while taking a practice MCAT in the library from my mother. Her exact words through a shrill voice are "WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOUR BROTHER NEEDS YOU." The minute delay that it takes her to explain the situation feels like eternity after hearing that. His mouth hurts (obviously) and he needs Vicodin (obviously) so can I drive to Morton Grove to pick it up and bring it to him at work (of course I will).
Thursday - Brendan's first day of treatment. The actual course of it all only lasts 20 minutes, but it takes 45 minutes to get him ready. He is feeling fine after and even drives out to Dekalb in order to gather letters of recommendation he needs to get the ball rolling on his application process to medical school. So far so good.
Friday - I called Brendan, who is at work, from Daley Plaza to tell him an hilarious story and he only sort of snickers at it - nausea has kicked in, and the medication they gave him to fight it hasn't. He says he will still be up for going to see Elsinore play some rock and roll with me later that night though, and wishes me luck on the MCAT. Later that night he calls me back and tells me he doesn't think he can make it - he just isn't feeling good.
Montrose Harbor was hot and sunny and beautiful on Sunday morning. I got there before it was anywhere near crowded - and found our tent with ease. We set up a table and some chairs in a circle, I tied a red balloon to the top of the tent and looked around anxiously for team members to arrive.
There is no way I can explain the little moments that created the bigger event and how meaningful it ended up being. Our total is still growing so I can't say what our final amount raised actually was - but it will most likely be $4,000.
Granted, on most days my brother looks invincible, but on Sunday he was invincible. I know part of that had to be because 40 people...40 people...were there walking behind him (literally...he walks really fast and I had to actually call his phone and tell him to stop and wait for everyone). But that lime green and purple (and white) army was huge, and beautiful, and so generous and kind and I can't begin to thank each and every one of you enough for being there and showing your support.
At the end of the walk, a woman came up to us and asked if we had any extra shirts she could buy. Although I had to say that we didn't, one of the team members just pulled his shirt off and gave it to her - and she went on to tell Brendan and I that she is a survivor and that her brother is recently diagnosed. She gave Brendan her contact information. She was wonderful and heartbreaking and kind and insisted on shoving $20 in Brendan's hand for the shirt she took - so we donated it right back to the Lymphomathon.
I got home late that night after having to be at work, and sat down at my kitchen table, exhausted. I was still wearing my green shirt that smelled like sweat and sunshine. My cat was bumping up against my leg. My feet hurt. I opened my computer and all the letters blurred together and something inside me decided this was a good time to cry. So I did. I was so happy and tired and overwhelmed and...probably a million other things. It was brief and hot and salty and my cat made a beeping sound just once - I picked her up, she fought it like an asshole, and I walked to my bedroom and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Thank you team. Thank you donors. Thank you Heidi Thompson and the LRF. Thank you mom, thank you dad. Thank you friends for being my friends. Thank you family. Thank you, Brendan.
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