Mourning an Unexpected Loss

Hey,

Well...all losses are unexpected, and all losses are hard. I've lost a lot of people in my life, whether it have been my first love, my childhood friend, my biological mom, a good friend from college that I'd fallen out of touch with, a surrogate grandmother, and those are just the folks that died. Sometimes we lose people without them actually dying, just by simply losing touch. In the world of cell phones and email, it's hard to lose track of people as we move and migrate through our lives. 

Today, though, I found out that my best friend Kevin, the same one who is dealing with his own mortality via a battle with pancreatic cancer, has lost his grandmother. The ordinary relationship that a typical boy has with his grandmother is (based on my experience) full of something I call "living disdain". In that you love the person, but aren't exactly thrilled to be spending time with them, mainly because they are either unhip, boring or just not a person you'd choose to be around of your own free will. 

Kevin and his grandmother, Grandma Eve (Evelyn), were always joined at the hip. Even as a little boy, he'd always talk about how cool she was, and how he always felt like he really was her son instead of his mom's. He looked forward to spending time with her every summer in California, and when he couldn't make it to her, she came to him. She even adopted me by being my grandmother, bringing me sushi lunches in high school, buying me purses and shoes, and kissing me just as much as she kissed Kevin, if not more so. When I was with the two of them, I never felt like I was the odd man out. She had the biggest laugh, always giggling with me and Kevin about something, and taking us both out to late-night movies and ice cream sundaes, even when we got older and no longer thought of those outings as the highlight of our week. 

As Kevin grew up, she was there for him, from his highest moments to his less flattering and lowest moments, and she never once judged him or said a harsh word against him. When we were sitting in the hospital waiting to hear what the situation was when Kevin got shot in the stomach for messing with some gang dude's girlfriend, she just said, "It's Kevin. He does sh** like that." (He turned out to be very lucky and the bullet hit no vital organs, just cost him a three-day hospital stay and a week and a half of bed rest after that. Later that day, when I saw him first in his room, he told me he was scared of seeing his grandmother's 'mean face'. When he needed money to go to college, she sold her house and moved into a nice condo, putting the difference into an account in Kevin's name, which he used to pay for his education. When Kevin got sick, she was there for him even more than his own mother was, stepping into the role of guardian on more than one occasion, and talking with the doctors about his treatment. She offered her home to him, and he accepted, knowing that he'd be taken care of, and not babied, and that his grandmother would have his back, 100 percent of the time. She'd often refer to him as her baby, and me as her adopted granddaughter. Later, she'd call me her granddaughter, and drop the word "adopted". 

Today, I found out that she has passed away. She wanted to not outlive her eldest grandson, and in a twisted way, she got her wish. We don't know exactly what happened, but it appears that she succumbed to a household accident. I don't want to go into specifics, but it was not something that could be attributed to suicide. Kevin's father, Eve's ex-son-in-law, found her while Kevin was at our friend's house 2 hours away. He was the one to tell him of her death, and I am thankful that he was there to be a boulder of support for him. It is a sad day indeed.

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

PS: My ex-boyfriend, Mr. Wonderful, found out about the blog and has told me of his intent to read it from beginning to end. I'm not quite sure how to feel about it, since the beginning of it, and a good portion since, has a lot to do with him and is about him. 

The New Goal

Hey,

Just wanted to say hi, and give a few updates on stuff. Nothing too elaborate today, my head is pounding, I think my cat is sick and I've gotta get up in the morning.

1- My male BFF Kevin is so much better now. Against all odds, he's still here, and he managed to walk out of the hospice they'd put him in after he was basically in a drug-induced coma to reduce his pain. The hospice stay was 3 weeks, he woke up after the first week and immediately wanted to leave. He worked towards it and made that a goal, and he did it. Immediately after leaving, he went to a holistic doctor, and fasted for 3 weeks to get all the toxins out of his body, eating only small organic dishes on the weekends, and drinking only organic juice and water during the week. I haven't seen him, he's still in California, but from the phone I know his voice sounds stronger and he sounds more rested. He has yet to go see a doctor, but when he does, I am hoping the prognosis is good. For all purposes, it is a miracle.

2-I've put up a "Donate" button on the right side of the blog. It's for my trip to Europe after my graduation in May of 2009. I've always wanted to go, and I figure asking for donations, the worse thing that will happen is that no one will contribute. If you have a buck or two that you wouldn't mind sharing, hook me up. The money's going into an account that I'm setting up to save for the trip, and whatever you contribute will be greatly appreciated.

3- I'll be doing my radio show Saturday night, discussing one of my favorite topics, RELATIONSHIPS, (haha) from 7 to 9pm, and I'm going to try to blog as I do it. We'll see how well it works. If you are interested in listening, click here. Follow the prompts on the website, under the "Listen Live" area. If you have a question, you can ask it in the comments or email me here if you want your comment to be more private.

Take care and I, as always, want your thoughts...

*Ashley Robin*

The Unexpected Gift from Facebook

Hey All,

It's the Queen of the Late Night Postings...lol, just kidding. Today, one of the coolest things that could ever to happen to me, happened. It was so unexpected and not something I'd even considered, but here's the story. A few months ago, I wrote a note attached to my Facebook profile, similar in tone to one of my recent posts on here, entitled "So Much Heartbreak, Not Enuf Time". The Facebook note, which you can read here, is emotional, but in it, for those who aren't able to read it, I wrote about my disgust with God in relation to events that had happened in the past, as well as finding a renewal in my faith via my relationship with my local priest. I also discussed Kevin's condition at that time, and while it was terminal, it was nowhere as bleak as it is now. I tear up when I read it, but not just because of the words and memories involved in it, but also because of what a relief it was to get that out of me. I can still remember the pain I was in before I wrote it, physical and mental. I came home, in a frenzy and sat down to my laptop where the words flew out of me. My hands were sore because I was typing so fast and I wrote it in literally about three minutes because all these feelings were about to erupt out of me, and I was feeling sick. When I managed to get the words out, I felt a lot better. Then I went and threw up. Not a great picture of me, I know, but I needed to mentally eject those feelings and then physically eject them too, I suppose.

Anyway, I got the most touching message on Facebook today. I won't go into the details of the note, but it was from a young woman named Diane*. Diane wrote me to let me know that she had experienced a similar circumstance to what I'd been going through and what I am currently dealing with, and how my words helped her find an answer to the question we'd both asked ourselves, "How to go on? How to not hate God and not feel as if the world had turned its back on me?" She relayed some of her experiences and was very open in her words, and I was amazed by some of the things she said, just because they were so painful, without even knowing Diane, I was so proud of her for keeping her wits about her, even through the darkest days. She said in the note that we didn't know each other personally despite being Facebook friends and that she just randomly found me and my profile and my note. 

Honestly, if I could share what she wrote, you'd probably have ended up in tears like I was, but I definitely will not violate her privacy by doing that. Let's just say the girl has not had an easy life and some of her circumstances, well probably all, would have brought people to their knees. Anyway, I ended up in tears because I never would have imagined my need to share my feelings with everyone and no one' actually helping someone. It made me feel so proud that I could do something like that, that I could reach out to someone via a computer, and actually affect them, help them and make a change in their life. I told her, and I'm telling you guys, I will never forget that moment and the following feeling for the rest of my life, and I will love her always for letting me know I helped her and allowing me to experience it firsthand.

*name is changed

The point of today's blog is to make as many connections to reach out and help someone if you can, somehow...if it's a blog that you get published, if it's a volunteer effort like working in a soup kitchen, donating blood or helping with a voter registration drive. Something as small as helping someone learn how to use a computer or set up email or simply reading to someone can change the way people live their lives. Since I've received Diane's email, I've decided to make a huge effort to help out as much as I can, blogging or any of the above efforts to help in small ways...sitting down and actually making it part of my routine. Hopefully if this job prospect works out, I will be tutoring children in the fall...and helping out will become part of my daily repertoire.

*Ashley Robin*

An update

Hey,

I just wanted to write a quick post thanking everyone for the emails, ims, phone calls and other ways to express their thoughts for me and Kevin during this time. It is nice to know people care. I also wanted to write and let you know that Kevin is awake, but in terrible pain and being sedated to keep down the pain. He will be moving to a hospice tomorrow where he can rest and feel better for being out of the hospital. I can't really cry anymore, or think about it too hard because I simply get upset. It's hard to be calm in times like these, but knowing people are there and care about us makes me feel better. So thank you.

Ashley Robin

So Much Heartache and Not Enuf Time

Hey Everyone,

I haven't been up to posting in a little while mainly because the past few days, I've been living on eggshells. Just to sum up for those who don't know, I'm a very hard person to get to know. I tend to keep my feelings to myself, and build up walls of protection from outsiders. Some could say it's issues from my mom or my dad, whatever-they can kick rocks, but it's just because I don't want to be hurt. It was so bad in high school that my nickname amongst my posse was "Shady", just because I played my cards close to the chest and had no problem lashing out to those who hurt me in any manner. It was my way of protecting myself. Plain and simple. Anyway, when I first came to Chicago, I was a very sad little girl. In a lot of ways, I felt alone and I had no idea if I'd ever be friends with anyone. I was confused, depressed and just out of sorts adjusting to a life in the Midwest. Well, that soon changed with the unlikely friendship that Kevin gave me.

Kevin is the one person I've been able to turn to when I had to experience all the dramatic events of life, from losing someone close to me, to starting a new life in a new place and finding myself, and even being my moral compass when I felt lost. It was no surprise that he felt he could turn to me, and on one night in 2002, a night that I will never forget for the rest of my life, as I studied and resided in Washington D.C, he told me he had leukemia. To be specific, he had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, and he was diagnosed when he noticed his lymph nodes were enlarged, and after tests, found that his spleen was slightly enlarged as well. That phone call was the worst because he sounded so sad, very unlike the usual rambunctious style of his usual conversations. He seemed sad, but hopeful, and so I was as well.

I researched it for hours after talking to him. I found out the symptoms, the treatment, the life expectancy, all of it and was unsatisfied. I questioned medical students, talked to doctors, did as much research as I could until I felt like I knew all there was to know. When he called me after the doctors had officially diagnosed him, I asked him for his doctor's information, and with his permission, spoke to his doctor for hours about his condition. While Kevin focused on getting better, I focused on the statistics. I wondered out loud if chemo, radiation and surgery were viable treatments for him, due to his slow immune system, and I was the one who took a week off from school to return to Chicago so that he could have my hand to hold while he went in for exploratory surgery. When he couldn't walk, he leaned on me, and when he couldn't get up from the bed to hug me, I climbed in the bed with him. When he couldn't bathe, I washed him and shaved his face, and I was his shoulder to cry on. I'd seen more sides of him than anyone, and I told him, I promised him, that even though the cancer was in his body, it would be our fight, and I would never leave him to fight alone.

In retrospect, those two years I was away from him while in DC were the most terrible, because I could not see him everyday or talk to him every second. When I started to realize that the school was not the school I wanted, I began to think, "If I returned home, I could be there..." and so, I left. Partly for Kevin, partly for me, all because I knew if the shoe was on the other food, he'd have done it for me, no hesitation. When he got better in 2005, was deemed cancer-free and was told by his doctors that he could go to school, I was the happiest person in the world. I saw him drive off to Georgetown and I thought life would be perfect for him after that...and I thought the world had yet to see all that he had to offer. In some ways, I would prove to be wrong.

He started his degree in the fall of 2005. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help people who had the same illness he did, and gain as much understanding of the science that involves cancer in the human body...he volunteered at a children's cancer ward, and he spent time reading about cancer cells. He often spoke candidly about his illness, and would start the statements with "I am a cancer survivor." As the year progressed, he started to develop a general exhaustion. He'd sleep whenever he wasn't in class, and he'd pick at food. We started weekly iChat sessions, and I saw his skin texture change, his eyes become hollow and all the weight he'd gained go away. So, in the fall of 2006, when the change was too much for me to bear, I asked him to go to the doctor. He went, and when he came back, the prognosis was horrible, the cancer had returned. This time, it was cancer in his blood.

So, because it was around Christmas break, he decided that he'd return to Chicago to get his treatments, and return in time to make up his missed classes during the summer, and resume his schedule in the fall semester of 2007. He came home, in his Georgetown sweats and I barely recognized him, this thin man who resembled my close friend, whose eyes told stories of pain, heartache and disappointment, but mostly of frustration with himself for falling ill. I spotted him, and when I saw him, I threw my arms around him and we cried. He smelled like Kevin, he smelled like home. 

I can remember the day of the blood transfusion, how we all waited while the doctors drained as much blood out of Kevin as they could, and infused him with the blood all of Kevin's friends and I gave them earlier. I actually gave the doctors more than I was supposed to, but I did not mind because for once, my exhaustion matched Kevin's. I stayed with him until he woke up, and I watched as the color returned to his face, as his eyes became clearer and he smiled that broad grin of his...he only asked me one thing, "When can we eat?" I knew then he was better, that my dearest friend, who ate family dinners from Pepe's like most people eat a White Castle cheeseburger, had returned. Days later, he had a bone marrow transplant, and had to spend two days in an isolation chamber, but he wrote things constantly. He didn't sleep, and all he thought of was things to do when he was out of his "medical jail". He wanted to see the Louvre in Paris, the Mountains of Colorado, the waters of the Nile. In those times, he had so many dreams.

He would return to Georgetown for two more semesters, and excelled in areas of science, specifically chemistry and biology, almost as if he understood the books without reading them, since the story of cells and their division had ravaged 5 years of his life. Finally, after falling ill again and receiving a so-so prognosis, he decided to return to Chicago for a second opinion and be with his family, his friends and me. He would go through chemo again, as well as surgeries to remove one of his kidneys, part of his liver and scar tissues on his lungs, and after changing his diet, forgoing red meat, and eating more holistically, drinking tea and working out in the gym, he became stronger, and gained all his weight back. He was deemed strong enough to transfer to a local school and take classes there for a semester. However, after falling ill in May of 2008, after he made a declaration that he was not going to subject himself to any further treatment; he was told that the cancer had gone to the one place they were hoping it did not travel to: his pancreas.

When they told him, his eyes were teary and he again felt that same cloud of disappointment that hindered him before, he slumped in the chair and let his weight collapse into it, and he looked at me. I kept looking at the doctor, and I asked what I knew Kevin wanted to, but couldn't. "How long?" The doctor took a breath and looked at the two of us, and told us that because Kevin was opting against treatment, depending on how aggressive it was, it could be weeks or months. Not years. Without looking at Kevin, I took his hand and held it. Before I could ask, I heard his voice ask, "What can we do?" The doctor said, "We will figure it out." But I knew that Kevin already knew what he wanted to do.

For years, it had been our battle, and our fight. But I knew that it was time to let him fight it alone. But how to let him go? How to kiss him and tell him I loved him, letting him carry the burden of the worrying and the fighting alone? How to subject him to such a harsh concept? We both knew it would be a hard idea for me, so due to that and other reasons, Kevin went to California to be with his grandmother..to let her care for him in his supposed final days. Kevin's dream didn't become about seeing the world and all of its beauty, it became simply just to be able to live in it. He began to distance himself from me, to not try to lean on me as much during the time he spent in California, to worry more about being with his dad and his grandmother, to spend his days surfing and walking the beach, and to spend his nights sitting by the ocean.

Then Friday, he fell into a coma after his heart stopped. This happened once before, but he woke up right away. Now, it's not the case. Part of me wants him to wake up, and part of me is ready to let him sleep forever...rest from the pain, the sorrow and the misery of this world. I don't know which one to pray for, and I find myself so conflicted. I don't want him to die, but how much longer will he live? I just pray that he wakes up and walks out of the hospital- one of his least favorite places to be and hopefully, not the last.