Sat. Oct. 6th – Happy Birthday, Ali!!!
Happy 22nd birthday to Ali — the most wonderful, kind, and funny daughter, big sister, and friend in the world.
Ali posted the passage below on Facebook yesterday. I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read this…you won’t regret it!
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“I’m missing my brother. Thoughts of loved ones lost can hit when you least expect it.
For me, they’re often dreams of Andrew being rediagnosed, sometimes where I can actually see the cancer wrapping itself around my brother. It’s just awful.
Last night, Andrew was in my dream…I guess it was more of a nightmare. We were at a baseball stadium, similar to where Andrew played little league. He was sick, but wasn’t 14 years old. I was carrying him & his story was being told in the background. At one point, a girl came over and kept poking at him, making fun of him for being sick and saying that he just shouldn’t be alive. She was pure evil. I got so upset, not understanding why this person would do this to my brother. I kept yelling at the girl to leave Andrew alone, but I wasn’t able to get her to stop. The girl reached over and, while laughing, began to choke Andrew in front of me and a crowd of people. Everyone else just watched and I couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening. My screams and tears couldn’t stop Andrew from being killed by this monster. It was horrific.
I talked about this over lunch today with my mom and we tried to interpret what it might’ve meant. My mom suggested that it perhaps symbolized the fact that I was such a support to Andrew and helped carry him through his illness, but the girl – who symbolized cancer – just took him from us and although Andrew was surrounded by people who loved him, nothing could be done to stop it from happening.
Even though Andrew may be gone, childhood cancer is still very much a part of my life. It haunts me.
Unfortunately, these nightmares aren’t uncommon for me. I was with Andrew every single day of his hospitalization. I would go to school in the morning and come right back to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit after school, sleep over in Andrew’s PICU room and repeat the process in the morning. Some days, while I was at school, Andrew would call my name wanting his sister by his side. One day, I came back from school and told Andrew I was there and with eyes closed and 22 medicines going into his body, he let out a tiny smile and simply said “Good”. He was just so glad to have his sister with him and I was SO glad to be with him. Our sibling bond and friendship were what I imagine every parent hopes for.
Recently, I reread Andrew’s entire CaringBridge. I do this occasionally. You might think I’m absolutely crazy to do that and relive the horror, but from my point of view, it’s a journal of the last 167 days I shared with Andrew on this Earth. While they were under circumstances and in situations we would never wish for, our family of 4 was physically together, something we can’t do anymore.
In reading through CaringBridge, I found a few posts that just warmed my heart and reminded me of my amazing connection with my brother. On May 14, 2007 – exactly 2 months before Andrew passed away – my dad wrote in CB that “The only person the Andrew would let near him was Ali. When Chris or I would touch him, he would say ‘get off me!’, but when Ali went up to him, he let her hug him. It was amazing. I continue to be convinced that Ali’s voice is the most soothing to him. It’s like a calming medicine.”
Keep in mind, at best Andrew was down to 22 medicines with the most being closer to 40. [Side note: Think about that…When you get a new prescription, doctors worry about what other medicines you’re on to see how they’ll interact with each other. Imagine the drug combinations with 22 or 40 medicines at once? Unfathomable.] With so many medicines, he wasn’t always able to have a conversation with us, so the times he spoke were that much more valuable. On June 13, 2007 – a month and a day before Andrew passed away – he said, out of nowhere, “You can tell Ali, everything happens for a reason.”
Andrew, I wish I knew the reason for you having to get cancer. I wish I knew the reason that you had to pass away in my arms, though I’m forever grateful that I got those precious moments with you. A clinical psychologist I met at a conference once, lit up when she heard Andrew passed away as I hugged him. I’ll never forget why…She said, “Think about that. You held him as he passed away. Imagine the comfort you gave him as he left this world, to be hugged by his best friend.”
I wish I knew the reasons. I know that you’ve touched thousands of people’s lives and you continue to do so through B+, and I’m glad for that, but I really think B+ could’ve happened if you were alive too. I wish you could come to our speaking engagements with us. I wish you could’ve been there for prom, your graduation from Sallies, to go off to college. I wish you could have been here to celebrate your 20th birthday with us.
I miss the little things about you, like when I was doing her homework in the family room just a few weeks before you got diagnosed. You went down to the family room, stood behind my chair waiting for me to turn around. When I did, I saw you standing there smiling, holding a piece of paper that said “I love you.” I miss that.
I miss your kind heart. Your humor. Your soccer and baseball games. The way you would comfort me and try to make me laugh when I was sad — I could use that right now. I miss your hugs. I just miss having a little brother around.
My dad spoke at Eisenhower and Hillside Intermediate Schools in Bridgewater, NJ earlier this week. He asked the students to raise their hands if they had little brothers or sisters. Then, he asked them to raise their hands if their little brothers or sisters sometimes get on their nerves. He followed that up with, “99% of the time your little brother or sister is following you or bugging you, it’s because they want to spend time with you. They want to be like you. I know one girl in this room who would do anything to have her little brother back, even if it meant he tried to annoy her every day for the rest of her life.” At that point, 800 5th and 6th grade heads would turn to the back of the gym and stare at me. But, it’s true. I really would do anything for that…
I’m not really sure the point of this post, except maybe to share with you a glimpse into this crazy weird life I now live having lost my little brother. When I’m awake, I think of Andrew. When I’m sleeping, I clearly am thinking of Andrew – despite the thoughts sometimes being nightmares. That’s the reality. What Andrew went through was a nightmare and now, versions of it get replayed in my head over and over again.
I will never forget what my little brother went through. I will never forget the times I spent with him. I will never forget the memories. I’m not saying I know what’s best here, but if you have someone special that these feelings remind you of, please let them know how much you appreciate them.
Andrew knew how much we loved him. I have no doubt about that. But, I can’t imagine what I’d be going through now if I had kept the “I love you”s to myself, thinking I could just tell him later on.
I appreciate all of you for sticking with us through this wild rollercoaster of a journey. Thank you for supporting B+, joining us in the fight against childhood cancers and for helping us keep Andrew’s memory alive. I’m forever grateful.”
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B+
Ali’s Proud Dad
www.caringbridge.org/visit/andrewmcdonough
P.S. Please remember to put a recurring reminder on your calendar to vote for Ali at www.nascar.com/award each and every day from now until 11/29. Help honor Ali and help us raise $100k to help families of kids with cancer. Please spread the word!!! Thanks.