In March, Dad took his children on an amazing trip to Big Sky Montana. [For those of you who ski Colorado - stop. Stop and start skiing Big Sky right away.]We arrived at Big Sky at the same time as the IEEE Aerospace Conference was taking place in order to catch Dad's best friend, college roommate, closer to us than most family members, and resident genius, Howard on the mountain at the same time we were looking for our own ski adventure. It was the first time Brendan and I had seen him in years. It was a greatly anticipated reunion. We had the time of our lives [photo set here].
Brendan had his first post-treatment checkup in April. The only concern he had going in to it was the fact that the beard he had managed to grow immediately after treatment refused to resurface after it had been shaved off just once. Dr. Rose ran some tests on his testosterone levels, and they came back within the normal range. The lowest possible within the normal, but still within normal. So he just has to wait it out.
Wait out an increase in masculinity. (ha!)
Brendan made a "deal with science" that if the beard grows back he will never shave it off again.
On April 10th, Dad and I ran the Shamrock Shuffle here in the city. Brendan was originally going to run it with me, but he had scheduled a trip out to Scotland (and Amsterdam!) to spend time with Heather, and so Dad decided to take his place. I wore my Lymphomathon shirt and dad was wearing the Walking ‘phoma Brother shirt we had made for Light The Night. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for early April in Chicago - around 80 degrees lakeside. Dad and I ran the 8K in a defiant 50 minutes - at which point he less than defiantly collapsed from dehydration at the finish line, terrifying his daughter, and sending the Shuffle medics in to work mode.
When he finally emerged from the first aid tent and we started talking about what had happened to him in that last mile he said to me “my calf was killing me, I couldn’t keep up with you, but...I’m wearing Brendan’s shirt and I all knew was - I have to keep going. I have to keep going.”
My parents are losing both of their children come August. We've both been accepted to medical schools - Brendan in Parker, Colorado and myself in St. Georges, Grenada.
So from here on out we are just spending time together, stressing over the little things you stress about when you are about to move out of state for the next 4 years.
Because of those moves we are unable to walk in the 2 aforementioned events this summer/fall. The links are above though - and they are still extremely worthy causes if you're looking for one.
2 out of 2 Klein doctors recommend them.
I don't think people change, I think people's capacity to be selfless in interpersonal relationships changes.
An acquired finesse that makes love possible.
My parents and my brother and I are the same people we were before this happened, the same people we were 20 years ago - we are just better at being those people to one another.
More refined.
More wisdom through experience.
Lymphoma was undoubtedly the worst thing that has ever happened to my brother, and I would never wish it on anyone, or any family. I would never wish him to go through it again. But, I'm not sorry that he did, and none of us look back on it with the anger and fear we had felt while it was happening. It's made us better.
It's made us better to each other.
