A Patient and a Friend

By Stacy Parkhurst

I’m sure most of us have been asked where we were on 9/11/01. Well, I was in Casey’s room in our transplant clinic in Greenville, SC.

I was Casey’s nurse during her first stem cell transplant. She came into our clinic for her daily assessment and IV fluids after her high-dose chemotherapy the week prior. Casey had the TV on and we saw it all on live TV when the attack occurred. Like everyone else, we were shocked and couldn’t believe what we were seeing.

During the day, Casey kept all of us nurses up to date on the news and did her job as a reporter even though it wasn’t sports. And, I think we all shed a tear that day because we knew our world had changed.

Casey’s world changed first when she was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in 2000. However, she didn’t let it slow her down and she wasn’t angry at her diagnosis. I asked her once if she ever felt angry and she said “at first but then you realize you just have to cope and move on”.

A lot of people would be angry at such a fate, but not Casey. I am always inspired and amazed at the strength and courage patients like Casey display. I never heard her complain about her disease or curse at God for allowing such to happen. With a smile beaming on her face, she came to the clinic daily for weeks until she recovered and always entertained the nurses and doctors with jokes, sports talk, and just being Casey. She inspired the other patients in the clinic who were just starting with transplant and was always willing to share her experience with them.

I will never forget one hat she liked to wear. We called it her “Pippy Longstocking” hat. It looked silly but it was Casey and she told me once it made her feel happy. When she wanted something from her parents, she use to joke and say she would play the “C” card and she would get it. Casey found humor in the midst of her storm. She was easy to love and we all did.

Casey and I became friends and kept in touch after she recovered from her first transplant. I knew it was a risk to allow a patient to become such a friend but it was a risk worth taking. We had a lot in common: both of us loved pink, wearing tiara’s (she had a real one, I don’t), silver jewelry, and loved laughing. She always knew how to cheer me up and make me laugh.

One day, she tried to teach the nurses how to dance in the clinic. (I don’t have any rhythm so she got a big laugh). And of course, she educated all of us on who Lou Merloni was. When she moved back to Boston for further treatment, she continued to update me in letters and I would call her to check on her status. She came by to visit last fall when she was in SC for a wedding. She was the same ole Casey and kept us entertained during her brief visit.

When her Mother called me on May 17, I knew it was the end and this was what I had dreaded for so long. Casey asked her Mother to call me and she wanted to speak to me. I can honestly say that was the hardest few moments of my life. I knew it was our last conversation. She could only say a few words due to the oxygen mask but it was good just to hear her weak voice. My prayer became a prayer of mercy and that death would not linger and she would be comfortable during her final moments.

I feel so privileged to have been a very small part of her life and I appreciate her Mother, Eileen, calling me at the end. My heart still aches and the tears are still there. But, I am reminded of what a friend said to me, “don’t be sad it’s over, be glad it happened”.

I am very glad that a friendship developed out of such a circumstance. A lot of people think working with cancer patients is sad and depressing. Patients like Casey remind us of the joy in life and to not take life so seriously. Everyday is a gift from above and life is precious. Now, Casey has a brilliant tiara! She is and will forever be my hero!

Stacy is a nurse at the Cancer Center of the Carolinas.