08.26.07
Eric
Last night I finished reading an old book called, Eric, by Doris Lund. Wow, what a story. I had not intended to read this book. I just happened to stumble across it while waiting for Brian at the library. Course, once I started, I couldn’t put it down.
Doris Lund was Eric’s mother. She documents Eric’s four-year struggle with leukemia, which began in 1967 and ended in 1971. He was only 17 years old with a promising future as a soccer player when he was first diagnosed. Basically, Eric obtained six very short remissions during that four years before he relapsed for the final time. I don’t even know where to start, but definitely know that the story of Eric touched me for several reasons.
While I realize that this book is dated (it was first published in 1974), I still found that many of the experiences Lund wrote regarding Eric is still relevant today, particularly amongst those who have experienced life-threatening illnesses. I will admit that before being diagnosed with aplastic anemia, I was pretty much in the dark about serious illnesses like cancers. I had heard little bits and pieces of cancer stories and knew that the patients got very thin and bald, but that was about the extent of my knowledge. After developing aplastic anemia, I began to read and delve deeper into what cancer patients experience. And I learned the ghastly reasons why so many people dreaded cancer and why they got thin and bald. All too often, it was a death sentence which involved pain and disfigurement. The story of Eric is another testament to the truth of that.
In addition to learning about the physical effects of cancers on the human body, I also learned about the emotional effects it can have on each person. While I know that aplastic anemia is different from cancer and that each person has his or her own personality, there were references in Eric that still brought back memories and similarities to me. For one, an unusual bond seems to form amongst the sick. Age, gender, size, nationality, or social status are no longer barriers between patients. The struggle to survive becomes the common goal, and the loss of any member is mourned. This was true for Eric, and it validates for me why even after 7 years, I still go back to check in on the aplastic forum. Like everyone else, I want to continue to live my life, but I still can’t forget my brothers and sisters who struggle or have struggled with aplastic anemia. Life-threatening illness do change people, whether it’s the patient or the caretakers.
Lund also shared conflicts in her relationships with her husband and children. Again, I see similarities to my own experiences! The dynamics between men and women and how differently we cope with various situations and especially during times of stress would be easier to bear if we understood that men and women deal with stressful situations differently. There were times when Lund asked her husband after his visit with their son how Eric was, and his reply would be a short, “fine.” Ack! Her response was just as my reflex response was! “As long as my son has leukemia, he is not fine! I want more details!”
It was interesting reading Lund’s perspective as a mother of a terminally-ill, young adult son. Thank God I have not experienced this. I pray I never have to. From her accounts, it was obviously heart-wrenching to watch and know the danger her son was in, yet due to her respect for her son’s independence, she had to stay at a distance many times. How unbearable that must have been to see and know it all happening, yet being unable to change the course! Just reading her descriptions had me crying even though I know Eric died 30 years ago! During my illness, I was the patient, and I did not realize the turmoil my illness was causing my family. It wasn’t until I was out of danger that I heard the stories of my family members and the things that transpired among them in the event of my passing. And I did not experience half as much horror as Eric did.
A few other events in Lund’s account of Eric’s struggle reminded me also of some other feelings I had. There was one argument Lund documents between her son and herself when she exclaimed that she wished she were dead. Her son stopped and cursed her, and walked out. That may sound harsh, but I felt I could relate because I remember at the time wanting so much to live while reading of others killing themselves or senselessly drugging themselves up. “Oh,” I thought, “to have the health that they were just throwing away and did not value.” One of the male nurses who attended me during one of my hospital stays was very kind to me and even told me that he had added me to their prayer list at his church. I later found that he was shot and killed in a spree shooting at a local fast food chain restaurant. So young, healthy, and so kind. How could someone have senselessly wasted his life like that?
The description of the other patients who shared the hospital ward with Eric was also reminiscent of my many visits to the hospital. The varied people, personalities, and unique illnesses were there along with the mix of emotions. It was so real. I could remember it. I could almost feel it. Lund describes it from thirty years ago, yet so much is still the same today even down to the cancer drugs that were given to the patients! I realize a few more have been added since, but the same ones are still employed–methotrexate, prednisone, cytosine, arabinoside, thioguanine, vincristine, and the list goes on. It’s amazing how much poison the human body can take before it completely succumbs.
There does appear to be a difference in views between patient and caregivers. This book reminds me of a post on the aplastic forum regarding how long a person has had AA. There were a couple posts pointing to a long-time AA survivor who has lived with it for about 20 years or so. I know that sounds encouraging, but the catch is this patient has relapsed several times and has suffered debilitating health issues due to the treatment of her AA. So for me, from the eyes of the patient, I actually found that story depressing. Because one of the things we AAers don’t want to happen is to relapse. And to see that this person has relapsed several times is discouraging. Yet, for a caretaker, just the fact that this patient is still alive is encouraging! Co-incidentally, both posts were by “caretakers,” not the AA patient. And that story was actually encouraging to them! How different we view things depending upon which side of the fence we’re on!
Well there was more in Eric’s story that I could go on about, but should really stop here. The one consolation I had was that he was able to find a beautiful woman who loved and cared for him during his last days and even into his last hours. I am reminded how important it is that we care for one another. How terrible it must be for those sick and dying to not have someone who loves them by their side. Eric’s story, like several of the other biographies I’ve read of people suffering from terminal illnesses is a testament to how beautiful the human soul can be, how short life on earth is, and what is really important in life. I’m 42, but Eric died at 21. I can’t imagine dying that young. I’ve had so many wonderful experiences since 21. (Course at what age do any of us feel that we’ve lived enough unless we’re mentally depressed or have already suffered too much?) And I’m reminded of how much time have I whittled away doing nothing. The story of Eric has had my mind racing about all sorts of things, but I’ll stop here before I go off on too many other tangents like wondering what my purpose is in this life, and why I am still here.
Marlakins
