January 17, 2011
After what everyone thought was a turning point for Brielle back in September, has now turned into everyone's biggest nightmare. Last week they received the news that the cancer returned to her brain stem and spread to her spine, leaving her with weeks to live.
I have been following Brielle's story for about two years now. As a lot of you know, my cancer is extremely rare. I am the only person on Earth right now that has it, so finding someone with an identical case to mine is next to impossible. But this girl and I have had such a similar cancer journey, which is why I cry out every time I visit her website reading bad news and joyful news. Her mom, Lisa, writes on the website every once in a while sharing the conversations she has with Brielle. So much of what has been said was exactly how I felt during my treatment and surgery days. I remember one time Lisa watched Brielle hugging her chemo bin while sleeping as if it somehow brought comfort to her. I did not know whether to laugh or cry because my chemo bin never left my side wherever I was. I took it with me to the hospital. I took it with me on car rides. I took it with me to my friend's house. I took it with me to the movies. And I always had one hand on it while sleeping. How strange that something like that brings comfort to a cancer patient going through chemotherapy.
More than just that we have other things in common as well. Last year she had a brain tumor removed behind her right ear, and after waking up she found that she was deaf in that ear and paralyzed on that side of her face. She had trouble eating and was rapidly dropping weight. Before this, though, she was a part of an experimental study where initially they thought it was a success, but soon after scans showed a brain tumor in her ear. A brain tumor that they could actually see just by looking in the ear.
And now this morning she received the exact same pinpoint radiation treatment as I did three years ago called Gamma Knife Radiation. Screws are screwed into the scull, while awake, and a halo is secured on the head and fitted into the radiation device. I remember it as one of the worst treatment days of my life.
My question is, with all of our similarities why is she dying and why am I surviving? I guess I will never know the answer to that. On Wednesday Brielle and her family will be flying to Hawaii for a ten-day trip. And I know that while trying to have a good time, in the back of everyone's mind will be, Is this going to be her last trip? Is this going to be the last vacation where we are all together as a family? The reason I know this is because I took that exact trip to Hawaii five years ago. I flew to Hawaii with my dad and best friend the week before my 16-hour brain surgery. And when the week was over I kept wondering if that was going to be the last time I ever did anything like that; if I was actually going to make it through the surgery or not.
The sad thing is, I got to retake that trip just one week ago. I got to do one of the same activities I did during that last trip that I never thought I would be able to do again. I am the lucky one. But why not her?
Please continue to pray for Brielle during these final moments. Pray that it is not her time to go. But if it is, pray that God will make her as comfortable as can be during the upcoming weeks. And pray for a life-changing final vacation for the Murray family.
I have been following Brielle's story for about two years now. As a lot of you know, my cancer is extremely rare. I am the only person on Earth right now that has it, so finding someone with an identical case to mine is next to impossible. But this girl and I have had such a similar cancer journey, which is why I cry out every time I visit her website reading bad news and joyful news. Her mom, Lisa, writes on the website every once in a while sharing the conversations she has with Brielle. So much of what has been said was exactly how I felt during my treatment and surgery days. I remember one time Lisa watched Brielle hugging her chemo bin while sleeping as if it somehow brought comfort to her. I did not know whether to laugh or cry because my chemo bin never left my side wherever I was. I took it with me to the hospital. I took it with me on car rides. I took it with me to my friend's house. I took it with me to the movies. And I always had one hand on it while sleeping. How strange that something like that brings comfort to a cancer patient going through chemotherapy.
More than just that we have other things in common as well. Last year she had a brain tumor removed behind her right ear, and after waking up she found that she was deaf in that ear and paralyzed on that side of her face. She had trouble eating and was rapidly dropping weight. Before this, though, she was a part of an experimental study where initially they thought it was a success, but soon after scans showed a brain tumor in her ear. A brain tumor that they could actually see just by looking in the ear.
And now this morning she received the exact same pinpoint radiation treatment as I did three years ago called Gamma Knife Radiation. Screws are screwed into the scull, while awake, and a halo is secured on the head and fitted into the radiation device. I remember it as one of the worst treatment days of my life.
My question is, with all of our similarities why is she dying and why am I surviving? I guess I will never know the answer to that. On Wednesday Brielle and her family will be flying to Hawaii for a ten-day trip. And I know that while trying to have a good time, in the back of everyone's mind will be, Is this going to be her last trip? Is this going to be the last vacation where we are all together as a family? The reason I know this is because I took that exact trip to Hawaii five years ago. I flew to Hawaii with my dad and best friend the week before my 16-hour brain surgery. And when the week was over I kept wondering if that was going to be the last time I ever did anything like that; if I was actually going to make it through the surgery or not.
The sad thing is, I got to retake that trip just one week ago. I got to do one of the same activities I did during that last trip that I never thought I would be able to do again. I am the lucky one. But why not her?
Please continue to pray for Brielle during these final moments. Pray that it is not her time to go. But if it is, pray that God will make her as comfortable as can be during the upcoming weeks. And pray for a life-changing final vacation for the Murray family.