The Battle We Didn’t Choose

Vão ver um trabalho pungente, arrepiante, doloroso mas, sobretudo, de enorme coragem, dignidade e, creio que estou certo, Amor.

Retrata uma realidade cruel, implacável, indiferente a idades, credos, classes ou raças. Que a muitos chega e a todos pode chegar. Silenciosa, traiçoeira e, se não denunciada, fatal.

Um sopro de ar gelado na nuca.

As fotografias são sublimes. Pela primeira vez neste blog, prefiro não as publicar para não lhes retirar nenhum do impacto brutal que têm. Aqui fica apenas uma e peço-lhes que vejam as outras directamente, no site The Battle We Didn’t Choose.


E lembrei-me desta canção.

The first time I saw Jennifer I knew. I knew she was the one. I knew, just like my dad when he sang to his sisters in the winter of 1951 after meeting my mom for the first time, “I found her.”

A month later Jen got a job in Manhattan and left Cleveland. I would go to the city – to see my brother, but really wanting to see Jen. At every visit my heart would scream at my brain, “tell her!!” but I couldn’t work up the courage to tell Jen that I couldn’t live without her. My heart finally prevailed and, like a schoolboy, I told Jen “I have a crush on you.” To the relief of my pounding heart, Jen’s beautiful eyes lit up and she said “Me too!”

Six months later I packed up my belongings and flew to New York with an engagement ring burning a hole in my pocket. That night, at our favorite Italian restaurant, I got down on my knee and asked Jen to marry me. Less than a year later we were married in Central Park, surrounded by our family and friends. Later that night, we danced our first dance as husband and wife, serenaded by my dad and his accordion – ♫ “I’m in the mood for love…”♫

Five months later Jen was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember the exact moment…Jen’s voice and the numb feeling that enveloped me. That feeling has never left. I’ll also never forget how we looked into each other’s eyes and held each other’s hands. “We are together, we’ll be ok.”

With each challenge we grew closer. Words became less important. One night Jen had just been admitted to the hospital, her pain was out of control. She grabbed my arm, her eyes watering, “You have to look in my eyes, that’s the only way I can handle this pain.” We loved each other with every bit of our souls.

Jen taught me to love, to listen, to give and to believe in others and myself. I’ve never been as happy as I was during this time.

Throughout our battle we were fortunate to have a strong support group but we still struggled to get people to understand our day-to-day life and the difficulties we faced. Jen was in chronic pain from the side effects of nearly 4 years of treatment and medications. At 39 Jen began to use a walker and was exhausted from being constantly aware of every bump and bruise. Hospital stays of 10-plus days were not uncommon. Frequent doctor visits led to battles with insurance companies. Fear, anxiety and worries were constant.

Sadly, most people do not want to hear these realities and at certain points we felt our support fading away. Other cancer survivors share this loss. People assume that treatment makes you better, that things become OK, that life goes back to “normal.” However, there is no normal in cancer-land. Cancer survivors have to define a new sense of normal, often daily. And how can others understand what we had to live with everyday?

My photographs show this daily life. They humanize the face of cancer, on the face of my wife. They show the challenge, difficulty, fear, sadness and loneliness that we faced, that Jennifer faced, as she battled this disease. Most important of all, they show our Love. These photographs do not define us, but they are us.

Cancer is in the news daily, and maybe, through these photographs, the next time a cancer patient is asked how he or she is doing, along with listening, the answer will be met with more knowledge, empathy, deeper understanding, sincere caring and heartfelt concern.

“Love every morsel of the people in your life.” – Jennifer Merendino

(Muito obrigado ao meu  amigo Jorge Cravo – fotógrafo competente e musicólogo atento – que me indicou o caminho até este trabalho notável)


4 responses to “The Battle We Didn’t Choose

  1. Será, antes do mais um acto de AMOR, assim o entendo. Também de coragem. Em tempos idos, senti na nuca, por todo o corpo , o sopro frio.. Guardo na minha tela mental esses, então, dolorosos momentos. Mas o amor, esse perdurará alimentando a chama do reencontro num outro plano da vida.

  2. Reblogged this on "Good Night&Good Luck" and commented:

    A única coisa que digo é que o brilho desvanece lentamente

  3. Brilhante partilha: muito obrigado!
    Uma doença que o meu seio familiar visitou há cerca de meio ano. Mas, saliente-se: uma batalha que não é apenas do doente mas tb dos que o rodeiam. E… uma batalha possível de vencer!

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