What Happened To Colleen? I never did pay much attention to cancer before this. No one in our family had ever been diagnosed with it. Whenever I thought of cancer, I was never afraid of it or afraid to say the word...I mostly thought of bald-headed children from the Children's Research Center commercials. I was aware that the disease could kill but just never imagined it could ever take the life of anyone so dear to me.

My sister was diagnosed with Lymphocytic Leukemia after a year of experiencing unexplainable symptoms such as pain in the hips, legs and side. She visited the doctor on several occasions last year but was initially told that she had arthritis. My sister who until recent years (the last 4 or 5) had been a thin person assumed her doctor's diagnosis was correct. She had gained over 40 pounds over the last few years and thought she could exercise herself back to good health. For a few months she worked hard to lose weight and build muscle mass. She watched as her muscles toned and her body fat disappeared. The pain began to subside so she felt she had defeated her condition. The victory was short-lived. The pain returned to her body only to worsen. She began to walk with a cane and then with a walker. Finally, one of the several doctors she visited, was concerned enough to perform the necessary blood work.

On February 18, 2000, Colleen was diagnosed with Lymphocytic Leukemia. The doctors claimed that her test results were "like nothing we have ever seen before". The first hospital was quick to decide that they could do nothing to help her. We were unwilling to hear that so we had her admitted to Sloan-Kettering Memorial Cancer Center (SK). The doctors at SK did not appear any more hopeful, but began a series of chemotherapy treatments. They administered large doses of various medicines. But each medication seemed to cause a side-affect that called for another medicine. Colleen seemed to be in constant excruciating pain and at one point the dosage of her pain medication was so high that she was no longer alert and aware. She also received numerous blood transfusions.

Colleen's chemo treatment was halted on several occasions because her body was unable to handle it. She later returned to SK after she kept experiencing high fevers. Her body was not producing the necessary white blood cells and was therefore unable to fight any type of infection. Her chemo was resumed only to be halted one final time when the doctors informed us that Colleen had two weeks to live. Even though a bone marrow test had been done and our "baby sister" Trudy was a match, the doctors informed us that she would not survive that procedure. My family has always been a religious one. We have prayed all our lives, but we prayed especially hard for Colleen. We also knew that God's will would always be done and we trusted that whatever God permitted was what God knows is best. But I wanted Colleen to live, as did the rest of my family.

Throughout Colleen's treatment period, I refused to give up on the idea that she would defeat this disease. When I was told about her "two weeks", I refused to hear it. I knew she would be okay. Then approximately 10 days before she died I received a call from my mother saying that Colleen was not expected to make it through that night. I was stunned. It became more real to me, but I still refused to acknowledge that her prognosis was as the doctors had declared. I flew to New York two days after that phone call. Two of my supervisors had urged me to go home to see my sister. Its not that I did not want to see my sister, I just wanted to continue to have faith that she could survive this and I was sure that if I saw her I would lose faith. I also thought that she would see that I had lost faith and she would not find the strength to fight.

The night I arrived at Colleen's bedside, I became afraid. She looked like someone else...a stranger. She said she had given up on seeing me again. I felt terrified. She was smiling and her spirits were high but I could tell that her vision was gone in one eye. I spent the entire evening in her hospital room and the things I saw her experience were ugly and painful. I now knew cancer. It was wicked, evil and cold, and it was feeding on my sister. Somehow, I still fought to believe that she could make it. She had to make it. During my one-week stay, I spent all but one evening in my sister’s hospital room. She always had company, usually several people. Her speech declined significantly over that one week. At first she had to repeat her statements once or twice then once her words became inaudible, she had to write down her thoughts. Her hands were shaky so her writing was sometimes unclear. Sometimes I pretended to know what she was trying to say so that she wouldn't have to put so much energy into trying to say or write it again. I watched as the other family members did the same. Colleen was a pretty sharp woman so I am very certain that she became aware that we did not understand her.

On the day I was scheduled to return home, the hospital's Chaplain told my step-dad that Colleen was "going". We had been hearing that for approximately two weeks so I went ahead and flew home anyway. That day she no longer spoke but only moaned and opened her eyes as slits. The following day, I was taking a nap between classes when the telephone rang. It was my mother and she could not speak, she just sobbed. I remember feeling angry because I knew that she was trying to say that Colleen was dead when I KNEW Colleen had not died. My mother still could not speak so I asked, "Did Colleen die?" She said yes and then described for me what had happened. Mom had been at Colleen's bedside holding her hands when it happened yet still I thought my mother was wrong. I hung up the phone and sat stunned for over an hour. About 90 minutes after hanging up from Mom, I called back to Colleen's hospital room and asked Mom if they were sure. They were sure.