Back in December of 2018, I shared my brothers soft tissue sarcoma diagnosis and his impending surgery. I have not shared anything else about him since then. Subconsciously I may have been waiting to share some good news. And for my brother, over the last 18 months, there really hasn’t been any good news.
His surgery in January 2019 was successful, they saved his leg, he did physical therapy, he was recovering. And then he had his first post-operative scan in April. And it was the worst news. Correction, it felt like the worst news at the time. His cancer had metastasized to his lungs. He had been told early in his diagnosis that if this were to happen it would certainly be fatal. So, this was terrible news. He had not yet fully recovered from the very complex surgery on his leg and now he was facing more. No time to relish a few good months. Back at the fight, the struggle, the doctors, the chemotherapy, the tests, the drives to New York, and yes, another surgery, actually two.
One successful lung surgery, more healing, no chemo while healing, more scans. Second surgery scheduled, feeling a little hopeful, until the post-op call – there were too many tumors to be able to successfully operate. Hearing this, it’s the worst news ever. How can it keep being the worst news ever?
More chemo. He adjusts his goals, but does hold on to some hope. Some immunotherapy treatment. But more unexpected visits to the hospital. Strange occurrences, things that should not happen (“We’ve never seen that before.”), and not in a good way.
And then what surely must be the worst news ever, the worst. There are no more treatments. There are only an unknown number of weeks to live. There is a range, but it is not a very wide range. Not nearly wide enough, not even for his shrinking goals and hopes.
But, my brother is not his cancer. My brother is a giant of a man, in stature and in heart – loved by multitudes, adored by many.
He loves to make people laugh, dare I say he lives to make people laugh. He is not a jokester – he is witty and funny. But mostly, he is kind.
His sisters can be cranky, outraged and at our worst maybe, even spiteful (not that we would ever act upon it, but oh, we will talk about it). And my brother, he listens. And he always, ALWAYS, gives the positive spin, sees the bright side, the kinder, gentler way. We will not be the same without him.
I can’t bear the thought of him not being here. I already feel lost. Everything feels useless, unimportant.
And I know, all too well, the worst news is yet to come.
One of Roger’s oldest friends, Joe Garbus, has organized a Go Fund Me to support Roger’s young family.