When The Ending Isn’t Happy

I thought the story was over, at least for me. During my last phone call from Erika, the one when she told me Cousin Bob was clinically stable (whatever the heck that actually meant), I had the impression that I wouldn’t be hearing from her again, unless my stem cells were requested, or unless Bob wanted to contact me. I hadn’t heard anything from her, and I assumed that my part was finished, and perhaps Bob was focusing on his recovery and didn’t want to meet me. I was not offended or anything like that, but I did feel wistful. As if I came close to something, but never quite reached it.

But I felt unsettled. Every time I thought of Bob, I felt somehow as if he was not ok. I couldn’t picture him healthy and well. Something didn’t seem right and I didn’t know why. I thought maybe it was because I didn’t meet him or exchange letters. I thought maybe if I had written to him during the process, maybe I would feel closure. I never did write because I was concerned I’d be intruding and I didn’t want him to feel pressure to respond to me. I wish I could express more clearly how I felt after my last contact with Erika, but uneasy is probably the closest I can come.

And now I know why. Erika called me last night. I was taken aback to see her number pop up on my phone…and I knew it wasn’t good news. I don’t know why I didn’t think it was a request for contact. I only know my heart started racing and my throat became tight. I grabbed the phone and croaked out a hello. From her voice, I knew. From her soft hello, and her quiet words. I knew. When she said Bob passed away, I was already sobbing. There is no happy ending. There is no miracle.

The Gift of Life is an incredible organization that doesn’t leave donors like me floating with no resources. Erika offered to connect me with a donor who has been in my shoes. She offered me support and a compassionate ear. All I could do was cry and say no. No thank you, I’ll be fine. But I’m not. Because he is not. And I am grieving for a man I’ve never met who I remain connected to in some way.

Mine is the possible ending you are warned about, but don’t really believe will happen. The stories that are shared are not like mine. No one talks about that time they tried to save a life and failed. No one shows photos of the recipient who didn’t make it. When I was told his diagnosis, everyone said that he had the more treatable type of leukemia. CML is chronic, meaning it is slow growing. AML is acute, and I was told, more likely to be fatal. Now I am painfully aware that it isn’t always the case.

I took for granted that he would be well and healthy. I expected that even if we never met or had contact, he would be walking around in full health, with my cells bopping around in his body keeping him strong and well. I feel as though we were both somehow cheated. I keep thinking maybe I didn’t do my part, somehow.

I know what people will say. I did what I could. I donated. I was a match. I gave him a chance and hope. Yes, I know. But it is not enough. It was not enough. He is gone and his family did not have the lifetime with him they were supposed to have. I wanted his happy ending nearly as much as they did. I am so sorry, Cousin Bob. I am so sorry and I am so sad. I grieve for you as though you were here beside me. I will hold you close, always.

There is no happy ending.