My Bookend: He's Fighting Very Hard
When my oldest brother, Tom, called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me he found a lump on his back and thought he was having a re-occurrence of melanoma, I was floored. He had melanoma seven years ago, but there had been no sign of it since he had an operation to remove it. I was under the impression that once you’ve passed the five-year mark, you were safe. Oh God.
So I picked him up and took him to an oncologist. The oncologist looked at the lump with concern. Tom was in a lot of pain, so the oncologist ordered a bunch of tests and sent him home with a prescription for pain medication. We went straight to the pharmacy to fill the prescription, enjoyed each other’s company while we waited, and then afterwards, I dropped him off, telling him I loved him.
Telling him I love him isn’t unusual. I really do and I always want him to know it. Especially since his favorite hobby is rock-climbing. That is a sport I just don’t get – suspending yourself high above the ground, hanging onto a rock by your fingertips. Even though I’ve witnessed him climb rocks with such grace that it takes my breath away, the sport is incredibly dangerous, even for the pros.
Tom and I are the bookends of our family. We’re twelve years apart with six siblings in between. For the past 20 years he’s been a bilingual fourth grade teacher in the Los Angeles Unified School District, and he’s loved by his colleagues and the children for his passion, wit, innovative ways of teaching, and sense of humor.
He teaches year-round school so he gets two six-week vacations instead of one long summer vacation. For a single guy who loves the outdoors, the school schedule fits perfectly into his adventuresome lifestyle. This year, on one of his breaks, he told me: “I’m going to connect more with the family this year.” Normally, on a break, he would travel to some exotic place to go rock climbing, so this was something new.
So, off he went, driving around the country, visiting my brothers and sisters. Reconnecting was a lot of fun for him and for them. See, everyone loves being with him because his spirit, curiosity, and quest for life is infectious. He’s a life-jolt, an energizer. Tom’s the type of person who, even when he’s bad company, is still way above average. He was glad he made the trip; something just told him it was time.
I always knew how much the family loves him, but until the last couple of weeks I really never knew how many friends he had who love him as well. After Tom left the oncologist, his pain couldn’t be controlled by the prescribed painkillers and he became jaundiced. My husband, Anthony, took him to the emergency room, and doctors found a large mass in his pancreas. He was admitted into the hospital; then we learned that Tom has melanoma in his back, pancreas and lymph nodes. His doctor said that Tom is in stage IV of cancer and the “tissue is growing rapidly.”
My mind was flooded. What does that mean? Can you help his pain? Can we stop it? Can we start chemo right now? How did this happen so fast? Why him? Can you surgically take it out? Why can’t he keep anything down? What the hell is happening? Damnit! You can beat this Tom.
They started the chemotherapy five days ago. Since then, his kidneys have failed and they have put him on a ventilator to help him breathe. The nurses say that Tom is the strongest man they have ever treated. And every day that passes, they tell us he’s fighting really hard. That’s just like him, giving whatever task at hand, his every bit of strength.
So, I went to church today to find some peace. Father Barry called all the children up to the alter to say a prayer. He said, “There is a special teacher who is very sick in the hospital right now. Thomas Burke. Please Lord, give him a miracle. And if you are not going to give him a miracle, welcome him peacefully, quickly, and openly into your home.”
So, as my brother hangs on, we hold his hand, sit by his bedside and pray with hope and gratitude that God is listening.