It was January 22, 2009. We had just started the year fresh, hoping for some relief from the financial crisis and for me, from the breakdown of a long time relationship with my boyfriend. I was just taking each day one at a time, enduring one more day with hopes it would be a little better than the last. I was at work, preparing for an event in the evening, when my phone rang, "Mom" flashing on the front of my flip phone (yes, I am old). I was happy for the interruption from the mundanity of the tasks and enthusiastic to talk to my mom. It took less than 5 seconds for me to be disabused of that enthusiasm as I was met with the broken voice of my mother "Hi, do you have a minute?" I crouched down as if I was trying to hide from someone ready to run up and punch me in the face, and braced for impact. My grandfather had been admitted to the hospital the night before with respiratory distress and was on life support. There was nothing they could do and the family would have the opportunity to come say their goodbyes before they removed the ventilator. There was no protracted conversation, I told her I would be right there and hung up the phone.
I furiously drove to Millard Fillmore Suburban hospital, too shocked and confused to feel the devastation. What the heck happened? I just saw him a month ago. He was fine! Strong and healthy as always. He sounded a little raspy, but it was winter, a cold, of course. How am I finding out that this is the last I will see him? In what seemed like a blink of an eye I was pulling into the hospital entrance and called my mother so she could get me into the ICU. I made it exactly 3 steps in the front door when I saw her and the reality of the situation hit me like a wrecking ball. I broke down in a fit a grief that has yet to be rivaled to this day.
She had no comforting words, or any words at all, she just grabbed me and held me as tightly as she could, both of us would likely have collapsed to the floor otherwise. No one seemed too surprised by the display, it was a hospital, after all. After a moment to compose ourselves, we walked what felt like a death march to the ICU at the back of the hospital. Wiping tears from my eyes, I was hoping with every step that I would wake up. When we got back to the door to his ICU suite, we could not yet go inside, the nurses were in there. My siblings and stepfather had gone into the waiting room down the hall. I mustered the comportment to ask my mother what happened. That raspy voice last month, wasn't a cold... it was a tumor penetrating his airway and it was inoperable... cancer... undiagnosed...
My grandfather was a hero and a patriarch in my family. My siblings and I absolutely adored him. He came to our concerts and sporting events. He watched Bills games with us on weekends, never empty handed with spoils for his grandkids of course. He was tough as nails - he had to be to deal with what must have been severe discomfort in silence until it required hospitalization. But what we saw when the nurses called us back in was my grandfather looking small and broken for the first time in my life. My mom and Rick were holding my 12 year old sister tight, she wanted to be brave and see her grandfather too, but it was very tough for someone so young. I stood next to my brother and turned to look at him. He was 14 and he thought it was his job to be tough. He was fighting back tears, but no one there cared if he cried... no one would tell... I grabbed his hand as if I was giving him permission, he dropped his head and tears streamed down his face. My heart broke a little more in that moment. I realized that at least I was blessed with the opportunity to get to know my grandfather as an adult and appreciate him even more. An expectation we had for my siblings as well, based on my grandfather's good health and long lifespans in the family. That dream dissolved in that room.
My mother walked up to my grandpa, grabbing his hand and kissing his cheek. "Hi dad" she said "the kids are here to see you." The final twist of the knife... my mom... that was her dad... she was losing her dad in that room... I thought about my dad and stepdad... how much I loved them and never wanted to endure that moment as a daughter. The emotions piled on like an avalanche, this was literally the worst feeling of my life. It was pure overload, grieving for the losses of each of us with no warning, just a big part of our lives being ripped away with no reason or justice.
We spent a little time, each of us saying a few words and kissing grandpa goodbye, and had to leave, visitor hours were ending. Only my mother was able to stay. The ventilator was removed soon after we left. My mother stayed by his side for almost two days while he hung on, leaving the room only to shower and change clothes. She wouldn't have forgiven herself if he had woken up and had been alone. He never woke up, but we like to believe he knew we were there. On the 24th I got the call, he had passed away.
Cancer stole my beloved grandfather away from us like a thief in the night. The tragedy of his loss still feels like an unresolved piece of our family's history. Could this have been caught sooner? Should this have been caught by his primary care doctor? Was there a treatment or surgery that COULD have given us more time? We will never know that answer, but it put the pernicious C word front row center in our thoughts.
In the years to follow, Cancer would touch our lives in more ways, friends, family, co-workers... I would come to have conversations with friends and colleagues about struggles and loss surrounding cancer. I watched in real-time as cancer became a household word. Why, with all the advantages and privileges we enjoy does Cancer still loom over us like the sword of Damocles?
As divided as we can seem as a society, Cancer is subject around which we remain united. Everyone hopes for and supports a future without cancer. We all want better prognoses for those with a diagnosis. We want a day when we don't have to ask "who's next." The Ride For Roswell is an event that pulls the community together around those ends to fight back in ways that inspire and give more hope each and every year. Tens of thousands of people will participate and fundraise to support this laudable goal, and I am proud to be one of them.
Please help me raise critically needed funds to support the thousands of patients who turn to Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center for hope each year. Your donation provides funding that researchers need in order to investigate new treatment options that could save lives in our community and around the world. For every dollar donated, Roswell Park can leverage an additional $13 in new grant funding!