"Don't cry because its over, smile because it happened"- Dr Seuss.
It's funny the friends and relationships you form with other people who are in your boat. Since my diagnosis 3 years ago, I have made numerous friends through cancer. It has been one of the good things, meeting new people, creating new bonds and friendships with people who understand what your going through or went through. I have been fortunate to make several friends, a few have become very good friends. I never imagined I would have to say goodbye to one of them.
In one of my very first blog entries I wrote about a patient at the cancer center who I ran into in the chemo room. This was not just another patient (I don't mean that in any negative way), this patient was a favorite of mine. From the first day I met him, he was special, he was always happy, always positive. Even when he was feeling like crap from his chemo he always wanted to talk about my family, my life, he always told me "it is what it is" or "what am I gonna do, feel sorry for myself". He was the very first patient I told that I had cancer to, he was at the cancer center (by coincidence) the day of my first chemo. He saw me in the chemo room, stopped us and said "what the hell are you doing back here", when I told him he responded with "not you". He then put his arms around me gave me the biggest hug and said "you are going to beat this kid". He shook Ryan's hand and told him whatever we needed he was there for us. We ran into him a bunch of other times during my course of treatment and he always asked about me when he went in for his appointments. Once I returned to work, he would come in, ask for me, give me a hug and tell me how great I looked (even when I had no hair and knew I looked horrible, he always told me I looked great). He sat down with me once I was in remission and he told me how pissed off he was that it happened to me. I told him cancer doesn't discriminate and he wanted to hear nothing of that, he wanted to know what was being done to make sure I stayed in remission, what needed to be done to help my mental state of mind, whatever I needed he reassured me it was going to be alright. He became more than a patient, he was my buddy, he had a piece of my heart.
Earlier this year, his cancer came back. I was devastated when he came to my desk that day. He sat down looked at me and said "well sweetheart its back, it doesn't look good", I remember telling him "no, you are going to fight and you are going to beat this again, you have to". Every time he came in for treatment from that day on he always came to my desk, called me "sweetheart" or "kid" and never wanted to talk about himself. He only wanted to know that I was fine, that I was still in remission, that I was taking care of myself. He downplayed every aspect of what he was going through. He truly was a selfless man. I mean, he would always bring in cakes or breakfast, but what I always remember is the hug I got after each appointment. He would hug me so tight that some times I was certain he may pop an implant. He came in for an appointment last month, he came to my desk sat down and said "its over kid", I told him no, no it wasn't. I wasn't listening to him, I didn't want to hear that. I told him he still had fight in him and they were going to figure something out. He came in last week for another appointment, at that appointment, it wasn't him. It took everything I had to be strong while he was there, I wanted to cry, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him I was sorry, tell him it wasn't fair. Not him! I couldn't make eye contact with his wife, she was trying to be strong for him. Today, he went to Heaven. Today, he was set free from pain. Today, the world lost an incredible man. Today, a piece of my heart broke.
Mr. Brooks, you will never fully know how much you mean to me. How much encouragement you gave me. I am glad you are free from suffering, I am glad you will finally get to rest. It will be hard to not see you, I will miss your hugs, I will miss your humor. I will hold onto the memories that I have of you.
