A Legacy of Touching Lives

A LEGACY OF TOUCHING LIVES

Readers of the LadyDocsCornerCafe have been blessed with a website on fitness, health and nutrition created BY women focused MOSTLY, but not entirely, on women. We also credit all the people in our lives who motivate and inspire us.

Sometimes that includes a man.

One such man, whose name I’ll omit for the family’s privacy, was a dear friend who I lost last month to a stroke. He was a brilliant scientist, but more importantly, he was brilliant at touching the lives of his family and friends. And he poured as much, no, more time into creating memories as he did making lives better through his work.

Can the rest of us say the same?

We were friends for more than three decades. In 2009, our lives intersected in a way that neither of us could have anticipated. He was diagnosed with multiple myeloma the year I had relapsed with CLL, Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. Both are nasty blood cancers. Now, more than friendship tied us together. We shared a common goal: to beat these diseases. The difference was that my friend already had beaten cancer once – prostate cancer nine years earlier. He was a veteran of this ugly war.

When I relapsed, I was terrified. I thought, “This is the end.” I needed to be talked off the ledge. Rather than picking up the phone, I parachuted into California from DC to visit him. I was getting ready to start a new round of chemo. He was preparing for a stem cell transplant.

Memory retention is only about 10%, so I don’t remember much from that weekend. But what did stick with me were his parting words as I headed to the airport. “Carol, it’s a game. Think of the latest treatment as a bridge to get you to the next treatment. There are always new treatments. You’re going to be fine.”

And he was right. More than that, I wasn’t alone. My friend for three and a half decades had taken on a new role, that of clinical mentor. Someone who understood EXACTLY how I felt, who had walked this walk and would walk with me on a journey we both could have done without.

My friend faced a recovery far tougher than many of us could imagine, let alone handle. He developed a post-transplant paralysis and fought for two years – successfully – to get out of a wheel chair and walk again. What’s remarkable is that his passion for family and his mission to create those memories was unstoppable. No small task since his family lived 3000 miles away from the other family members. He and his wife flew to as many events as possible, including swim meets and awards ceremonies. He talked politics and science and music with the kids, treating them as valuable verbal sparring partners. Yes, they were blessed with resources to travel with their families to several countries. But also yes, he oftentimes toured in that wheel chair. No complaints. And he always kept in his sights the mission of creating memories, touching lives.

You see, my friend decided that he didn’t have time for cancer. Exhausting physical therapy pushed him harder to capture more family time for the memory bank. And once upright again, he walked every day to build his strength.

Twice last year for two cancer patient advocacy groups, I attended the two big cancer meetings – ASCO, The American Society of Clinical Oncology, and ASH, The American Society of Hematolgists. I interviewed my friend’s doctor about blood cancer research. I would send him my video interviews, and like a proud older brother, he would watch them and comment. His doctor gushed about his star patient – his spirit, his fierce, unwavering determination to push through every medical adversity thrown in his path.

Except the one he didn’t see coming.

My friend’ stroke struck swiftly and ironically, while he was taking one of those strength-building walks. He died too young. The end came quickly. He didn’t suffer. Everyone who spoke at his funeral including me regarded him as a best friend. And why wouldn’t we? He made special memories with all of us.

Can the rest of us say the same? What memories have we forged with our children, grandkids, nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters? Are we doing enough? Are we inspired enough? Will we allow our cancer (or other medical illness) to consume our lives or, like my friend, live larger than our cancer and touch the lives of family and friends to create lasting memories? I’m not doing enough, but vow to try harder. I wish this for you as well.

Carol Preston is a communications consultant and cancer survivor who works with two cancer patient groups, Patient Power and PEN, the Patient Empowerment Network