 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
collection tins for Anzac Day badges, Legacy badges, and poppies for Armistice Day... Our Bill
was a happy and loveable character, and one of his proudest moments was this year, when his
grandson, Joel, marched with him on Anzac Day... Bill loved a good yarn, and what's more he
could always tell one. And I'll bet my bottom dollar that when we catch up with him, the first
thing he'll say will be - "Have you heard this one?"... So long, Babe.'
434
live forever. Our world views can accommodate the idea that some must die to make room for
the next generation, and had we lived a hundred or more years ago, our expectations would
have included regular deaths among the young. Modern science has created a fools' paradise in
developed countries, to the extent that we are largely shielded from death, and consequently, do
not always cope with it when it takes the form of a young person.
"Young adults have come, with some justification, to regard themselves as immortal. Death
applies only to the elderly, and, by the age of 21, most young people have never attended a
funeral service. So, when a young person dies, for whatever reason, we are forced to confront
our own mortality.
'When I was told that my extremely fit 15-year-old son had a lump in his groin that required
surgery and a biopsy, I experienced a powerful wrenching feeling in my gut. I knew that this
could be the beginning of the end. And yet, many people recover from all kinds of cancers. If
anybody had a chance of fighting this off, I thought, it would be Christopher. He had never
smoked, maintained a balance diet (or at least as balanced as parents of teenagers can ensure),
lived away from the deleterious environmental effects experienced by city-dwellers, and pursued
a rigorous training programme that had enabled him to swim at the highest level of competition
that this country offers its juniors - the National Age Championships - at Easter, 1991.
'Rhabdomyosarcoma is a particularly aggressive form of cancer. But with early detection,
surgery, and a follow-up course of chemotherapy, recent cure rates have given patients a much
better than even chance of survival. Christopher had the lump removed in June 1991, at the
Healesville Hospital, less than three kilometres from his home. A further operation was carried
out at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne a month later, to find out if the cancer had
spread to the lymph nodes along the spine. The good news was that it had not. Chris now had
two large abdominal incisions, at right angles to each other, and was quite sore for some time.
'Eight months of weekly chemotherapy sessions followed, with the inevitable effects of nausea,
vomiting, tiredness and loss of hair. But Chris never complained. Eventually, his doctors felt
confident in concluding that Chris was in remission. It was thought that all that would be
necessary from then on would be six-monthly check-ups.
'As a result of the therapy, Chris had lost most of his hair, leaving his friends at school to ponder
over the debilitating effects of this dreaded disease. For them, it would have been greatly
reassuring for him to recover completely; thereby adding further credence to their belief in the
immortality of youth. He himself coped stoically, always with the expectation that he would
throw off this affliction. When he first alerted his best friend, Aaron, to the problem, he said:
"I've got cancer. But don't worry, it's no big deal."
'He was resentful at having to endure those months of chemotherapy, as it stopped him from
living the life he had planned for his sixteenth year. Chris believed that the cancer had seen
surgically removed, and there was no need for this prolonged trauma. This often made life
difficult for Beth, his mother, as
 |