When I taught summer camps at Como Zoo in 2003, I befriended
one of the interns. Rachel and I became
fast friends and were a good match in our young single days. We did all kinds of girly things together: movies, shopping, dinners out. I’d say our most successful outing was a
Bruce Springsteen concert. He was
performing a one man show at the Northrup Auditorium. To this day, it’s still the best show I’ve
ever seen . . . by leaps and bounds.
Rachel dated Ross for the whole time we have been
friends. They married in 2004 and danced
their first dance to The Luckiest by Ben Folds.
It was a beautiful
celebration. As they started their new
life together, they met the challenges of making ends meet. Rachel was in graduate school and worked as
much as she could. Ross worked second
shift and got home in the wee hours of the morning. The time they had to spend together was
extremely limited. Even so, they made it
work and they were very happy in their relationship. The little time they could spend together was
treasured.
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| Rachel and Ross |
In January 2011, at the age of 35, Ross was diagnosed with
acute lymphoblastic leukemia. It was right
at the time that this happy couple was planning to start a family. As cancer does, it ebbed and flowed. It got bad and then it got a lot better. Cancer is such a trickster. It gives the false hope of overcoming the
disease and then it strikes back even worse.
It’s a horror story that you can never escape once you’re
afflicted. Even in remission, it
changes the way you live and it always makes you wonder if, how, and when it’s
going to attack next.
Ross was in remission for a while. He suffered bone loss from his treatments
that would be a permanent hardship in his life, but the disease itself was
gone. Or so we thought. Last fall, things got bad again and the
recommended course of action was a bone marrow transplant. Thankfully a match was found and Ross
received the transplant in January. As
of today, he’s been in the hospital for over two months in preparation for the
transplant and then recovering from it.
During that time, Rachel had medical issues of her own that required
surgical attention. The stress in their
life was compounding. You can imagine
getting by on one income and accumulating infinite medical bills. To add to that, Rachel recently started a new
job and has not yet worked there long enough to be eligible for FMLA time
off. Not only was her husband
critically ill, but she had to keep working to maintain the medical
benefits.
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| Hanging out at the hospital |
Then last week happened.
Last week, Ross was admitted to the ICU because his kidneys were failing
and he wasn’t breathing well. He was put
on a ventilator and started dialysis, all while trying to replenish his white
blood cell count. It got really bad and
Rachel thought she might lose Ross. We
all thought she might. Here is a post
she shared with close friends:
Day 3 ICU: Ross will have dialysis
again today. His weight was 240lbs (normally 185lbs) He was able to get his
weight down to 230 with dialysis. The extra weight off will make breathing a
little better and hopefully help lungs overall too. He is using 65% oxygen
which is better than the 100% he was using on Monday. He had a feeding tube put
in yesterday so he can get better nutrition. He is on an anti-viral for a virus
that is still in his bone marrow. There are 5 different teams of doctors
working on him, and overall the gist is that the Primary is the BMT- his cells
need to work on growing (which is hard- his white blood cells are not getting
higher, they are getting lower) and beating this disease, and helping his body
function and the Secondary is his lungs and kidneys. He has a extremely rough,
tough, ugly road ahead of him. These past few and next few days will ultimately
determine his survival, which is scary as hell. He cannot talk due to the
intubation, and only opens his eyes for a few seconds a couple times a day. (he
is on pain meds to help sedate him) This is something no one can prepare you
for. I am fearful of losing my beloved at any second, yet am creating ITunes
lists to play for him in the room, praying, watching Hulu tv, sleeping in a
chair in his room every night and staying by his side. Please pray and support
us! Sincerely, Rachel
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| Ross fighting as hard as ever |
As of today, Ross is improving. He had several days of uncertainty followed
by a boom in his white blood cell growth.
His tube was removed and Ross continues to recover and even communicate
with his wife and family.
My way of supporting them is sharing their story with
you. You can read about Ross and
Rachel’s journey at their caring bridge site:
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/rossproctor/journal/2/createdAt/asc
If you’re inclined to help them out, here is a donation
page:
I can say now that I’m confident in Ross’s survival. He has a long, long journey of recovery ahead
of him, but Rachel and Ross are fighters.
They will do everything possible to get back to a normal life.
I wish I could say the same for my uncle. As I type, my uncle is losing his battle with
cancer back in Kenosha. Last Friday,
the nurses gave him a day or two to live.
He received his last rights from the priest and has had friends and
neighbors stopping in to say goodbye. He’s
holding on longer than we all expected, but he won’t make it long enough to see
another spring. Like so many before him,
he is going through the last dance of cancer.
I thought of my uncle on my run last weekend. I came upon the Mississippi River and I
wondered if he was alive still. There is
bound to be some lag between when it happens and when I find out about it since
I’m not there. Crossing the river felt
momentous and I thought maybe he had crossed over as well. But that wasn’t the case. I keep expecting that I will just know when
it happens . . . that the air will shift or an image of him will flare through
my conscience.
The night before my Aunt Silvanna died, a woman that was
identical to her in shape, voice, and mannerisms visited my work. The resemblance was unbelievable. I talked to her for a long time – mostly because
she reminded me of the healthy version of Silvanna. The Silvanna of my youth.
While I keep waiting to feel Uncle’s passing, I don’t want
him to go. I already miss him. I hope he finds peace in his last few
hours. With everything I have, I wish him peace.
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