Wouldn't It Be Good - Nik Kershaw
January 9, is my brother Ron's birthday. Ron and I were cut from the same cloth we lived in the same house and couldn't have been any more different. We each had heavy crosses to bear growing up - much more than any child should have to endure. Ron's got too heavy and he left the physical world to join the rest of our family at the age of 21.
In happier times, Ron was a bit of a privileged soul. With Dad having died when we were babies, Ron was the only source of testosterone in the gaggle of 4 female in the house. He was revered by my grandparents - who tended to favour the male species. There were no hand me downs for him, no girly toys to share and he had his own "boys" bike for his use only. Mom fought to have us all treated fairly but with financial struggles, she didn't look the gift horse in the mouth. At the time, except for the bike which I was envious about, it was all good by me. Life was grand! We thought we were living the dream!
Then came Christmas Eve 1972, Ron was just shy of his 10th birthday. We were all in the kitchen with my grandparents and Mom had just finished making her traditional Crostoli. There was laughter and Mom was gong to embrace Ron when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence and with a fear in her voice that silenced the room, she gently touched the goose-egg sized lump on the side of Ron's neck and asked how long it had been there.
That was the moment that changed the rest of my life from a dream to a never ending nightmare.
By the next day, Mom and Ron were on the way to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester Minnesota and the diagnosis was Hodgkins Disease! Cancer of the lymph nodes. We didn't understand, we were just children. I was 11, Sandra was 12 and Linda was not quite 9. Cancer was not as commonplace as it is today. We didn't know anyone who had it, we didn't understand what it meant. Ron was sick and we had to put up with a succession of care-givers who came into the house to care for us while Mom and Ron were gone for treatments or checkups. I resented those people and even tried to runaway once because I missed my mother and her kindness, compassion and love. I feel bad now that I understand I probably caused her stress that she could have lived without. But children are selfish creatures and I didn't see beyond my own needs.
Beyond that initial lump that was found I don't know anything about Ron's prognosis or treatment. I now know that Ron and Mom got very close, spending so much time together in travel and in waiting rooms. When she died, it affected him much more than it did me. Ron and I had very different interests, in the family we were on opposing teams. In an argument or in play it was always Sandra and Ron against Linda and myself. In a physical contest, they always won! But I digress, with Mom gone, my grandmother took over the guardian role and accompanied Ron to his appointments. The same grandparents so spoiled Ron before, continued to shower him with his hearts desire. For me, Mom wasn't around to balance the scales any longer. I rebelled. I argued. I fought. Ron didn't understand. He didn't see that we were being treated differently (selfish children remember), he thought we should be grateful. We had horrible fights about it. He didn't see my side and I didn't see his.
Ron had a lot of medical set-backs throughout his teen years. He contracted Chicken Pox for a second time and with it came Shingles. I am beginning to review diary entries and learn about the on-going cancer treatment that Ron endured, but I don't know about recurrences except for the tumor in his head because the treatment caused hair loss. I felt so bad for him, that small patch at the base of his neck grew back in tight curls completely contrasting his wavy thick hair. Needless to say, because of our tumultuous relationship at home, we didn't discuss sensitive topics like feelings or his medical condition. I once overheard some talk about tumors found in his belly, but I don't know what it meant - today I am annoyed that I didn't care enough to know.
Thankfully, there came a time where Ron and I were able to get close and be supports to each other. I moved out and he began to understand the restrictions that I was dealing with. All the negativity and anger that was directed at me was now directed at him. Some of my best memories of that time include him. Looking for a hill to teach me how to change gears while on an incline without rolling back. Him laughing at my ineptness and promising that we were going to keep it up until I was ready to trade in an automatic sports car for a standard. When it was time for him to go back home, he took my car and left his standard. I did my share of gear grinding and screeching as the car rolled, but by the end of the summer I was a pro! Ron came from Thunder Bay to the Toronto area to visit, but also for treatment at Princess Margaret. I wasn't allowed to visit, he didn't want me to see him throwing up and so sick.
All told, we had about 4 years to repair our relationship. Four years that hold a lifetime of memories for me. For a couple of naive, hurting kids, we did pretty good. In his own way, Ron tried to make me a stronger person and prepare me for his death. My dad died in 1964, my mom and sisters in 1974, and we were nearing 1984. Everyone knows that bad things happen in threes and Ron's big concern was my sanity if I should suddenly find myself alone and if something bad happened in 1984 - the prophecy would be true. In his words, he was afraid that I would become "a crazy dog lady. Living alone with a house full of stray and adopted dogs, never leaving the house out of fear."
Sure enough, Ron died in 1984. He was 21 years old. The doctors said that he shouldn't have died, that with the advances in research and treatment, that he could live to his 30's. By that time, progress would give him another 10 years. His doctor told me that in a sense, Ron committed suicide. He gave up, he refused treatment, he had had enough. Mom was his support and she wasn't there when he needed her, he missed her terribly. Ron didn't have a lot of hope for his future, he was fired from a part time job at MacDonalds because he needed too much time off for medical treatment. That wouldn't happen today but in the early 1970's it did. Ron spent the last few months of his life in the Port Arthur General Hospital. I left my life in Toronto to be with him, not knowing that the end was there but sensing I was needed. I watched as his once muscular legs became thin stalks barely strong enough to support him. Two days before Ron died I had officially closed an unpleasant chapter in my life and was moving on and he saw that and knew that he could move on too. And he did.
And I still miss him...
"Another time, Another place
We will be together again"
(And Now the Waltz) C'est La Vie by Slade
- In the past 15 years or so I have participated in a sibling study conducted by the Mayo Clinic in Rochester Minnesota. In an effort to understand treatment options and their effects better I have granted access to Ron's medical history and submitted my own DNA and medical records for comparison. They have found that many children of that era suffered heart failure and died prematurely due to the radiation levels they were subjected to being to strong/high for their fragile and immature bodies. Officially, Ron died of heart failure
- In recent years I have learned that my parents celebrated their wedding anniversary on January 9th. With my father's early death, the day must have caused my Mom as much sorrow for the loss as joy celebrating her only son's birth. Never in life did I have a chance so I shall now, with all my heart wish Livia and Dante Sdraulig a Happy Anniversary and I am glad you are together to love each other...We'll be together again some day also!
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