Round three

Cancer back, but this time, it will not win

This may not be my circus, but these are my monkeys. And my heart aches for this family -- MY family -- fighting cancer so much like what killed my college sweetheart less than two years after we found each other again.

That was five years ago. Last year, a friend from Louisiana was the one diagnosed. This year, it's my fencing mentor, my chosen big brother. He's about halfway through chemo and radiation after the removal of a tumor the size of a golf ball.

We all know each other through the Society for Creative Anachronism, an organization that started from a desire to play in the world of Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" and Dungeons and Dragons and became an international nonprofit dedicated to research about and engagement with the Middle Ages. Unfortunately, sometimes the real world insists on intruding. But the friendships don't stop then, and that's one of the great joys of our game.

I thought as I sat down today that I wanted to write this column as a warning about the particular kind of cancer Larry had -- the only one, as far as I know, that's linked to a virus: human papilloma virus. "HPV is so common," writes the Centers for Disease Control, "that nearly all men and women get it at some point in their lives. HPV can be passed even when an infected person has no signs or symptoms. You can develop symptoms years after being infected, making it hard to know when you first became infected. In most cases, HPV goes away on its own and does not cause any health problems."

That would be, the CDC says, nine out of 10 cases. But in the 10th case, it doesn't. And it morphs into cancer.

So here's the warning: Be aware of your body. If something starts growing somewhere, see your doctor.

But you already knew that.

Turns out what I want to write this column about is love and grace and tears and faith -- the faith I must have to believe that this time it won't turn out like Larry's did. My friend in Louisiana is happy and healthy a year later. There is hope, both for my friend in Little Rock and for everyone who fights this battle.

But it's not an easy road for the warriors or the ones who care about them. Even though I am removed geographically and am not related by blood to this family, there is not a single moment in a single day that they're not in my thoughts.

So, even though I'm keeping my "helpful advice" to them to a bare minimum -- because there's always plenty of advice to go around -- I hope you'll allow me to tell you what I think I learned fighting beside Larry. Maybe it will be useful to you sometime.

Normal matters. If you ordinarily go to a movie on Tuesday night, go if you can. You may not be able to chew the popcorn or swallow the Diet Coke, but you will get to spend a couple of hours being "normal." And in a perfect world, you'll be so engaged that you won't think about the "Big C" for a while.

Don't give the word power. Larry and I didn't say "cancer" because the word carried too much dread with it. We called his "Frank." Nobody's afraid of "Frank." And being afraid doesn't do any good.

Accept help -- whether it's financial, emotional, whatever you need. Friends in the arts community had a fundraiser for us that paid for Larry's cremation. I have no idea where the money would have come from otherwise. So many of us hate asking for help, hate being a burden, all those things we learned from our mothers. But, with any luck at all, this is the only time you'll need it. (NOTE: If you'd like to help my friends in Larry's memory, please visit www.gofund me.com/thefamily stew. And thank you.)

Live every moment. People were weirded out that Larry and I kept going and doing as much and as long as we could instead of hibernating. As it turned out, it was all the time we had -- and I am so glad we didn't waste a second.

Be a caregiver, but not a "mother." Larry was my sweetheart, my lover, and finally, a month before he died, my husband. Yes, I fed him and all of those things that needed doing. But when we sat down together on the couch or laid down together at night, we were two people in love. We never stopped cuddling or holding hands. I held his hand as he died.

Laugh every chance you get. I knew Theatre- Squared was going to do "Noises Off" the next season. I also knew Larry wouldn't live to see it. So we rented the movie. He laughed until it hurt. It was a very good evening.

And cry when you need to. Larry saw me cry only once. I am extremely proud of that. But it's come back to haunt me. I've cried more in the past three months than in the entirety of my adult life put together -- enough that nobody at work even acknowledges I'm crying in my cubicle again. So don't think you won't. And that's OK.

In fact, that's the biggest advice I can give anyone: However you choose to handle your battle is OK. It's YOUR battle. Just know there are people around who have your back -- it doesn't matter what century you met in!

Becca Martin-Brown is an award-winning columnist and Features editor for the Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email her at [email protected].

NAN Profiles on 09/03/2017

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