|
Welcome To Brock Barnard's Page! 
August 23, 1987 - February 16, 2004
Welcome to Brock's Web Page. Brock fought a hard 9 1/2 year battle with Wilms Tumor. This webpage is his story.
What do we wish others understood about the loss of our child? Here is a partial list of such wishes:
I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was very important and I need to hear his name.
I wish you wouldn’t feel awkward if I mention his name.
If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you hurt me: the fact that my child died has caused
my tears. You have allowed me to cry and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or if I
have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.
I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy and I
wish you wouldn’t compare it to the loss of a parent, spouse or pet.
Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
I wish you knew that all the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration,
hopelessness, the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.
I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us.
As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forever be a “recovering bereaved parent.”
I wish you understood the physical reaction to grief. I may gain or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, lose my short-term memory,
develop a host of illness and be accident prone, all of which may be related to my grief.
Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of his death, and the holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are
thinking about our child these days and if we get quiet and withdrawn, just know that we are thinking about our child and missing him terribly.
Please understand the I am not the same person I was before my child died, and do not expect me to "get back to my old self". I am forever changed, but if you give me a chance, you may find that you like the "new me".
Journal
Saturday, July 4, 2009 8:33 AM CDT And so it began.....
15 years ago today, we began a journey that we never thought would happen to us. No family ever does. But then again, we never know where life will take us.
July 3, 1994 - Brock had been having signs of blood in his urine on and off for a couple of weeks. The doctor assumed it was an infection or an injury of some sort, and had been prescribing antibiotics. We had decided to set up our camper and sleep out in it, "pretend" camping for the 4th of July holiday. Brock complained all night long of his stomach hurting. Lynn rubbed his stomach and felt the lump. Practically frozen with fear, we called the doctor's office first thing in the morning. The doctor, not our regular one but a friend of ours, agreed to meet us immediately at the emergency room. We took Tessa to her aunt and uncle's house, and Brock to Ball Hospital. After some testing, the doctor came in with the look on his face that you never want to see. There was something there, he said, but he couldn't be sure what. He had already spoken to the ER docs at Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis, and they would be waiting for us. Go home, grab some clothes, and get down there. The hosptial was about an hour away.
WHAT?????
So....we did just that. The doctors and nurses couldn't have been nicer to us. After hours of testing, blood work, all manner of things medical, it was confirmed. At 10:00 that night, while Brock finally slept in his hosptial room, we met with the man who would ultimately perform many surgeries on Brock to remove whatever new monster popped up. He told us that Brock had cancer, a type called Wilms Tumor. Pediatric kidney cancer. The lump we felt was a tumor in his kidney, and it needed to come out NOW. Surgery was scheduled for the next morning, July 4.
July 4, 1994 - What I remember most about this morning is telling Brock that he would be having surgery that day, and would most likely miss the fireworks that evening. He was MAD! At 6 years old, one of the coolest things you can do is light fireworks! And he was going to have to miss it! I remember quite a discussion ensuing (Brock was quite the debater!), but ultimately he was taken to surgery, and a tumor the size of a small football was removed along with his left kidney. The surgeon was wonderful, a man we remain friends with to this day. The cancer, he said, was confined to the kidney and they got it all. Whew! That was what we wanted to hear! Wilms Tumor had a 96% cure rate, we were told, and if you had to have cancer, it was the one to have. A little chemo, and it would be fine. He started chemo while still in the hospital after his surgery.....the first of HOW many?????
They say ignorance is bliss. What I wouldn't give to still be ignorant! To still believe in statistics, medicine, doctors, technology. To still believe what someone told me was the truth, without questioning it. To not be consumed with fear at every pain, every strange twinge that one of us had. Truly, ignorance is bliss......
February 16, 2004 - After too many surgeries to count, too much chemo to mention, too much radiation to keep track of, and too many relapses to try to forget, Brock Alexander Barnard passed away. He was 16 years old, and had battled "the good kind" of cancer for 10 years. I remember him telling me once that he didn't remember a time that he didn't have cancer. To quote him, "It's just my life, mom."
Fly high Superman. We love you and miss you every single day. I hope the fireworks are super cool from up there! <3
Peace,
Mom
Read Journal History
Hospital Information: Riley Hospital for Children
702 Barnhill Drive
Indianapolis, IN 46202
Links:
|
|
