Looking back

It was with a heavy heart that I looked back to the first post for this site. March 9, 2010. Less than a year ago, I started this blog to help keep track of Jerry's transplant journey. Along the way, Kristen and Michelle launched a facebook site and created a "show us your wrist campaign," inviting people to post photos of themselves donning the NHL "relentless band" Jerry wore. Along the way, the facebook site got 8,000 hits a day, and the photo campaign boasted hundreds of photos from around the world. Along the way, one of Jerry's biggest fans, our dad, passed away. And then the worst day of all, January 19, 2011. It has been the longest year of my life.

When we first took Jerry's story public, he was reluctant. Accustomed to protecting and leading, he didn't want "to be that guy," the one people felt sorry for. He never was. "I feel great," he routinely told me, even when it was difficult for him to get out of bed. "I feel great," he would say to anyone who asked and on every post he wrote. He never once complained and did not tolerate over-protection, characteristic of an older sister. "Vinnie," he would say sharply. Just that and no more would silence me. And it was oddly comforting. Because I knew he was in charge and determined. I knew he was a warrior who would fight with dignity and courage. I knew he would never give up.

Over time, he found strength and solace from what he came to call his "Join Jerry family." In the dark transplant days when he was weak and sick, he would ask me to read posts or describe photos. In the darker final days, it was his family who went to the web to ask for prayers and to post updates.

Until the last minute, he said he felt great. What he really felt, I am not exactly sure. But I know he actually was great. He launched a national bone marrow drive for all FBI agents. He volunteered time to help young cancer patients. He reached out to the National Lymphoma Society to provide them ideas on how they can help others. He started writing a book about his journey and the "good" that he perceived he got from having cancer. He reached out to other 9-11 responders to learn of their own cancer battles. All this he did in the time when he was suppose to be recovering from a transplant. He was not one to be idle.

His journey touched thousands. Other potential bone marrow recipients have referred to this blog and the facebook page to learn about what to expect of their own procedures. Others have copied the idea of "Show us Your Wrist" to support their own causes and loved ones. And all of us who loved Jerry came to realize the importance of living life like there's no tomorrow. Because that's what he did. And he lived with good humor and optimism. He looked to create a better tomorrow for strangers, as well as for himself and his young family.

During the transplant procedure, he would find strength each day to work on school papers that were due. He was trying to complete his master's degree and would not let anything get in his way -- not cancer, not chemo, not fever, not nausea, and certainly not me telling him he was supposed to be resting. Less than two weeks after his passing, his wife phoned to tell me that Jerry's diploma came in the mail. We were both overwhelmed at what he had done--quietly, when no one was looking.

Cards, letters, posts, messages come in every day describing a contribution that Jerry made or a life that he touched. One person wrote to tell me how Jerry saved his life. I had to stop opening cards after that...My brother was always my personal hero, but I never knew he was a hero to so many others.

Most days I struggle to find an answer for all the effort and all the suffering. It is his last facebook post that I turn to for comfort. I know now that he wrote it even as his body was starting to be attacked by an aggressive and rare virus, a sneaky intruder he never saw coming. I will repost Jerry's words here in hopes that the hundreds of you who still check this blog each day will find comfort as well. Despite everything, my brother, who passed away at 46, truly believed he was one of the luckiest men on Earth:

To my Join Jerry Family:

On this Christmas, more than any other, I am thankful for the many blessings in my life, including my Join Jerry family. You helped me take a year of challenges and turn them into triumphs. You helped me laugh at bad news and embrace good news. You showed me even tough guys can use help. Your Relentless photos made me smile on most days and cry on others. After 2 ½ years of this, I occasionally find myself on the dark side; being sick and tired of waking up sick and tired. Then, without fail, someone says something via phone, email, text, FB, card or in person, that puts me back on the right track. Thanks. I know exactly how Lou Gherig felt on July 4, 1939. Merry Christmas to you and your families. Jerry