Here I am again, trying to do what Karen wanted me to, and crying. I’ve been crying a lot lately. Every year at Camp Sunrise (and at Sunsibs) the campers and counselors get a bracelet. A dedicated volunteer (or group, I have no idea, really, but Karen would have known!) makes enough bracelets for everybody, which must take forever. Karen had an armful of them. Each year’s bracelet is slightly different than the previous ones, with a different colored bead to represent that year’s camp theme. Karen could tell you which bracelet was for which year, for both camps. She was always very patient with things at the hospital (well, usually very patient) but nothing irritated her like having to take her bracelets off. She also wore a yellow Livestrong bracelet as a sort of exchange program with her Uncle Dean – when Karen was first diagnosed, Dean wore a Livestrong bracelet all through her treatment. When she was rediagnosed, he dug it out of the drawer and put it back on. During her many treatments, Dean was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and Karen wore a Livestrong bracelet for him. And last but certainly not least, she wore a black and white bracelet that was part of her relationship with her best friends from Drexel. When she died, she only had the camp bracelets from that year, the Livestrong bracelet, and the black and white one with her. I put those on, and have been wearing them since then. I gave most of her other camp bracelets to friends and family members, who all knew how much they meant to her. Last week, I looked down at my arm, and the Camp Sunrise bracelet wasn’t there. I have looked and looked, but I can’t find it, thus the crying. I tend to put off the tasks I don’t enjoy, or that I think will be less appealing than they usually are. This explains a lot about the state of my house, and why the taxes aren’t done yet. I was applying that to writing this blog post, and then the other day I got a package in the mail that made me glad I had waited (sure, we’ll call it waiting…) A friend that I have never met, who also lost a child to cancer, had sent me a beautiful votive candle holder with Karen’s name on it, and also a cute little rabbit, to remember her son. I opened the package, lit the candle, and cried and cried! Since I am always looking for signs that Karen is near, I’ve decided that she encouraged me to wait to write my blog post, so I would get my package first. On the less tearful side, I went to Florida, to spend time with two of my sisters. It was cold (for Florida, anyway) while we were there, but much warmer than here. We biked around the community where my sister’s house is, did a lot of shopping and errands, since she doesn’t have a car and we had rented one, and went to visit my father, who lives three hours away. Lots of projects got done, and there was a lot of laughing. At times like that, it hits me hardest that Susie doesn’t have her sister anymore. She and Matt are close, but it’s not the same. We all went to the Camp reunion at the roller skating rink again. As always, it was nice to see everybody. I didn’t cry as much as last year, but two of Karen’s best friends weren’t there this year, so that might have been a factor. One of the other teenagers Karen knew, who had a bone marrow transplant near when she did, has finished nursing school and will soon be starting a job at Hopkins in Pediatric Oncology. I’m sure she’ll be great at it, since she can certainly remember her own treatment, only 5 years ago. There was another family at the reunion who brings food to the hospital every other week or so. Karen used to look forward to seeing them if she had to be inpatient on a Friday evening. They asked if we wanted to join them on a Friday, but that is something I just wouldn’t be able to do. I can see the people from the Pediatric Oncology unit at various events, but I don’t know if I could go back in there.
Steve has been getting a lot of phone calls asking for platelet donations. If you are able - I’m not, something about antibodies that can cause a reaction in some recipients - please go and donate some! It takes a little bit longer than a regular blood donation, but it’s very important!
1 Comment
Tina Melanson
6/24/2019 12:55:06 pm
Chris, I hadn't read Karen's blogsite for so long, your entries are so real and touching. When Dan and I visited you last week, you did not even hint of the personal agony you are going through, although we know you are, understandably. My heart goes out to you ,Steve, Matt and Susie, Forgive me for failing to ask how you are coping, I suspect sometimes people are uncomfortable bringing up the subject, I wanted to but didn't want to make you cry. Although that would have been perfectly OK.
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AuthorI’m Karen. I was originally diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) in August 2004 when I was 10 years old. When I was working on my college and scholarship application essays two years ago, I wrote about my journey. Although it was a rough few years, it became such an influential part of my life that I can’t, and wouldn’t want to, imagine my life without having had cancer. I called it the worst best thing that ever happened to me. Archives
April 2022
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