A Beginning and a Premature End

This last week I cared for a young man with Medulloblastoma (brain cancer) that had metastasized to his spine.

Like most adolescents he tried to be macho; he was also respectful, well-spoken and kind. These are attributes that you rarely find in kids who have much less to be angry about.

I did some research on his disease prognosis. The National Institutes of Health say this of his cancer: "although response (to chemotherapy) is seen in more than 50% of patients, long-term disease control is rare."

'Long-term disease control' is a nice, sterile phrase for 'cure'. For him there really is no cure.

He was in the hospital for another round of Chemotherapy, just to help him live as long as possible. We have potent drugs that reduce the horrible nausea, vomiting and pain, but Chemo is still so hard on the body.

He was cooped up in his room all day while the poison dripped into his veins. Late that night I asked him if he wanted to walk around.

There aren't many places in a hospital that a teenage guy would think were cool, but I lamely listed the best ones: the patio with nice landscaping, the coffee shack, or the garden out front with the funky sculptures.

"Actually, I would really like to see the newborn babies," he said.

We went to the Newborn Nursery, and I cried a little as I watched this big, macho adolescent press his bald head to the glass and admire the babies.

"Oh, that one is really cute!" he said, pulling his IV pole behing him.

~~~
I believe there is a part of him that knows his time here is short. He wanted to connect to the beginning, to the very start of this thing we call life: the innocence of a new babe. I hope it will help him be at peace with the end.