my sweet Alexis, the stars will only shine brighter now, but our world will forever remain dim without you...

Part of the reason why I kept a blog was to keep everyone up to date
on lex. But mostly, the real reason was because I knew she was reading
this and I knew that she enjoyed my entries (no matter how sad or what they may have been) and it made her feel good. Now I'm writing this and she won't be reading it.

Its a full circle yet again. Life lost and what a life we have lost.

Its a tragedy. Debbie was right, this was like a shakespearean
tragedy, but, in our situation, its real. This is all real. It doesn't
even feel the slightest. I'm confused to b crying so much. I'm numb.
My fingers are weak, my mind is fogged and my body has been left in
complete and utter shock. Shaking.

This is the one blog lex would never have wanted to read. "I just don't think about that" she would say when we talked about life. "i'm a fighter."

I'm sad I'm
writing it, sad that u are reading it.

This whole disaster truly sheds light on so many fundemental aand
important life lessons. The unwritten ones. The situation and
relationship of mother and daughter. Father and daughter and sister to
sister. I'm seeing life differently. Forces of nature are
impressionable and I feel it. So profoundly. My words are jumbling amd
humming. this is how i'm feeling and i'm sharing it.

What I'm saying is that when I look at a mother with her
young daughter. I want to burst out. Tell that mom to love that child.
Tell that child to love their mom. Or in a sibling situation like my
own, I want my sister to know she's the queen of my world. My rock. My
shelter. My guiding light.

There are so many lessons. So many. All of which we can't take for in
vain. Alexis was not that way, nor should we be. Vanity is our and
should be our antithesis.

I can't help but think of all those who have been so present in all of
this. I wish u could all pinch me and tell me none of this is true. I
wish I had better news. I wish she was here.

I know she's so present though in this world. For those that knew her,
knew that she would want us smiling and not think about death. Let us
then, just, remember her life. she'd want that. Lex. I will write for you.

Been home for almost a month now...

It's hard to believe how fast time flies by. Just weeks ago, I was in Israel with my team, Alexis and Debbie. Now I'm home. The only communication I have is the internet and the phone, and though I shouldn't complain, I'm still, not there.

I try to call as often as possible to get updates--wait with great anticipation for good news. Good news is helpful for me since I am so far away--as is the case for all of you.

And, so far so good.

Alexis has been set free from the hospital as of about 3 weeks now. She's been back at her Tel Aviv apartment--and what a change of scenery that is for her. For everyone.

All I can share is that she is getting better. There has been one minor hiccup of which we are waiting to pass--and knowing Alexis, it will. But so far, her blood is looking good and the doctors, from what I've heard are impressed.

Third Annual Revelations Art show in support of Alexis Wronzberg

Come out tonight in support of Alexis! Now that I'm home, I'd love to see you all there!

Join JUMP and BAC for our third annual art show, Revelations.

Showcasing the work of young artists in the community, Revelations will be a night of collaborative art, music, spoken word, and visual experiences.

All proceeds for the event will be donated to UJA in direct support of Alexis Wronzberg's fight with cancer.


Jump
1992 Yonge Street (just north of davisville station)
Toronto, ON

being away

It’s been less than a week away from my precious ladies—Alexis and Debbie. And though I abide by the mantra of all “good things” must come to an end, it seems that all the good things were starting after I left (that’s not to say that we didn’t have a good time, but the reality was that we were spending most our time in a hospital)—and even though I’d love to still be in Israel to share in Alexis’ new found freedom of breaking through the hospital doors, I am comforted that she is happier—out of the boxed room she was living in for over a month. Free from nurses, doctors and what seemed to be zookeepers—constantly getting checked up on, fed and stared at—Alexis, though not completely free from the C word, is finally getting a breath of fresh air. I spoke to her the other day—she had a lilt in her voice and her energy was strong.

confidence to go

I'm leaving in a couple of hours--back to Toronto, away from Alexis
and away from Debbie. Joining all the others back home who can't be
with Alexis all the time. Back to Toronto to start a new routine--
waiting to hear how the day went and what the doctors had to say
rather than be there to hear it first hand. But one thing I have, and
one thing ill bring back which gives me a little bit of ease is that I
got to be here and see Alexis day after day. And day after day she got
care and love and will continue to receive that. These doctors are
past the doctor - patient relationship--they've joined us in the
bleachers section. They know they have to get her better.
She is in good hands and I can leave in confidence.

About Debbie

Its been Alexis, Debbie and I for about 5 weeks now. The 3 of us have
created our own little family--even though we are already blood
related.  But anyway, I want to talk about Debbie--and ill try not to
trip over my words.

If you've ever seen a tree before. With its complex dimensions--first
the roots, the sturdy trunk and then the flowing colourful
branches--always providing and giving. That's her. And if plants grew
on Debbie's tree, they'd be sabras--the fruit most Israelis get pinned
for. A little prickly on the outside but soft, bright and delicious on
the inside.

Debbie and I have become an incredible team. Working well and
eloquently together. Just last night while I was laying out the
freshly wet clean dishes, stretching around Debbie in ballet form; she
was on her tip toes in another ballet position reaching over me as she
placed the dishes neatly in the cupboard above. We've got our shit down to a
dance.

We are similar and different in a lot of different ways. But the
differences only make us respect one another more.

Nights after spending the day in the hospital, the two of us would
find solace in painting, sipping delicious wine and talking. Recapping
the days.

I've spent a lot of time listening to Debbie's thoughts, dreams, wishes
and concerns and I'm so deeply humbled that she's shared them with me.

I see how she is with Alexis- strong and honest--literally an advocate
for her baby. Piping up with questions for the doctor eager to be
comforted by their response.

She's a fighter, a non defeatist and confident. Especially confident
with her decision of bring Alexis to Israel-- I think we all owe
Debbie our gratitude--especially me.

a few wishes to send me home in peace

(written on November, 18, 2010).

I am leaving Israel in a couple days. The thought of it makes me crazy. I've been here now for 3.5 months and I've had an experience that I would never pass up for anything. Ever. The only thing that could make it better was if a few of my wishes would come true.

I wished, that before I left, 4 of my wishes would come true.
To put it simply, I wanted
1) To see Alexis in the apartment
2) That Alexis' body would start reacting positively to the treatment
3) That we would have shabbat dinner under the stars (with Alexis)
4) That I would be able to paint a little bit more before I had to leave

ALL FOUR CAME TRUE--I could finally go and walk away with peace in my mind and in my heart!

can't hear past the crunching

It was Wednesday of last week. I had gone to the beach to catch a few last minute rays. I also tried to finish a book I had borrowed from the hospital.

At around 3pm I was getting antsy--I brushed off the sand from my sun kissed body and made a mad dash for the apartment.

I had my key in hand, but, surprised and nervous, the door was left open. I couldn't figure it out. Why was the door left open? Was someone robbing the place? Did I leave it unlocked? Omg! Debbie was going to be so angry. But, it wasn't any of that, and Debbie certainly wasn't going to be angry.

I opened the door and...ALEXIS was sitting INSIDE!

I stood. Staring. Tears brewing in my eyes. Remnants of sand stinging between my toes. I knew I needed to take a shower, but I just looked at her, she at me, staring, smiling and tears full of joy. Lex got a day pass and I got a surprise. The best of it's kind. Lex was slowly making her way home.

To celebrate, we made a yummy meal--well, Debbie made a delicious chicken stew and I made a bowl of vegetables...:)

We also took a load off on the balcony off Alexis' room--the two of us sat there, talking and engaged in fun activity. We invited Debbie down. A couple minutes later we were all hungry and took a trip to the AM:PM downstairs.

The image of seeing Alexis in the AM:PM is something I will never forget. She was free. She could pick whatever she wanted and no one was stopping her. Our little mission down to the store brought back memories of the days, the honey moon period, before she had the transplant. The days were we would wander and stroll the streets, stop in at candy shops or sit for a delicious salad. I was feeling very positive--everyone was.

We went upstairs--threw everything we bought into bowls, including the likes of Carriot cereal (the chocolate filled puffs), cinamon toast crunch, peanuts and zatar crackers. We all tried to watch Ellen but none of us could hear past the crunching. It was so loud! And no one cared! We were just happy! The 3 of us sitting on the couch, eating, smiling and crunching!

the body is a temple and a wild vessel

(I wrote this about a week and a half ago--sorry for the tardy post)

I slept at the hospital last night.

When I woke up at around 830 in the morning, one of alexis' nurses
came rushing into the room with a smile on her face. She spoke as if
little happy face bubbles were flying out of her mouth.
Alexis'neutrafills, or as I like to call them, new-trees,   had
multiplied to an excitement worthy amount. Except still not enough to
send her home.

To watch and wait and be part of this, alexis' battle, is both an
experience I'd rather she not have to go through, but is one that I am
honored to be going through with her. Like I said, she makes this
cancer stuff seem easy. And as uncomfortable as she might be, when the
doctor comes to ask of her complaints, she shrugs her shoulders,
gently shakes her head from side to side, smiles and says in her soft
tone, "I feel fine".

Man, the body is such a wild vessel. The way the physical plays with
your emotial and mental well being is pushed to all limits. And to
watch alexis go through all of this is in some ways fascinating. The
way her mental effects her physical  is something worth mentioning.
She brings the idea of mind over matter to the plate and man is she a
heavy hitter. --and even when she's down, there's always a piece of
her that is fighting. Rampantly. Fighting stronger mentally, than her
body is fighting against her.

Lolipop! Lolipop! oh lolly lolly lolly, lolipop!

The doctors have been giving Alexis "special lillipops" (she said they tasted like bluberries) since her throat was bothering her. She likes them and it wasn't until a few days ago that she discovered a) why she liked them so much and b) that they worked so well. So, she did what any rational human being would do when they wanted to know more about something--She googled it. She understood, finally, why this was her taste buds new craving.

And this was her reaction...

"I had no idea it was medical. I just thought it was fun!"

"It's not something I'd buy at the candy store, but it's delicious. The effects are delicious."

"Oh that's why it works so well!"

"Known as morphine lolipops. Also referred to as percopops on the streets of U.S. Eight calories and they have a sugar free version!"

last wednesday night (november 10th, 2010)...Restless

Disclaimer for this post: I couldn't sleep a few nights ago because these were the thoughts that were keeping me up.

It's been two full days having not gone to the hospital to visit Alexis. I wasn't feeling too well and didn't want to chance anything. Alexis' immune system has been none existent since transplant day almost 21 days ago and I certainly don't want to be the one to blame for an infection. Gevalt.

Two days away from the hospital was hard--I like going there daily to be with Lex--we entertain one another. I go mostly in the evenings and sleep over. And now that i'm leaving for Toronto in a couple days, i'm feeling a host of different emotions. Feeling everything. Not only am I leaving behind the incredible personal journey of my own self exploration, but I won't be here to sit, physically, in the bleachers cheering Alexis on. I won't be here for the ups and thank gd tollerable downs. I won't be here to visit daily, or witness the day to day visits from the doctors, student interns, or iced aroma light indulgences and I won't be here the day Alexis' body is renewed--the day her body becomes her own, perfectly functioning (B"H) system that she deserves--cancer free (B"H).

I've been by Alexis' and Debbie's side since day one--I've been part of this team--part of the experience--part of the ups and downs. In a few days, I will be so far from everything--and although she is in the best possible hands, I'm starting to feel anxious--as the reality profoundly sinks in of my departure from this magnificent country, this amazing young woman I call both my cousin and truly a best best friend, and of course my com padre and mentor Debbie, I'm nervous.

Of course I can always come back here (and that's a definite option) but I don't know what tomorrow may bring for Alexis--and I want to be here for that--for the good and the not so goods (poo poo poo).
Debbie always says that "we'll be fine." And of course I know that. But I realize, too, that i've been helpful--whether couriering late night gourmet meals to the hospital, singing each morning, "It's a beautiful morning," or late night talks with Debbie seeping with meaning or simply making Alexis laugh til she cries, I know i've been an asset. That's the truth.
To be so involved with Alexis throughout this war, this battle of her bloods, has been an eye opener and in a lot of ways an honour.

Alexis and I are only a year a part--our friends are the same ages--we are all in the middle of the mid twenties "walking grounds" so to speak--and if I've learned anything, I've totally taken my health for granted--and as Debbie says, "at this age, we should be able to do that, not have to worry," and she's right--absolutely right. I really just think that we should be aware of our health, appreciate our health and recognize that most of our bodies can tolerate the intolerable. Laila Tov.

twenty-eight times

@ the kotel the day before the transplant

photo by: elise kayfetz
Number 28 has been following Alexis for some time now. She was first diagnosed six years ago on the 28th of September, her mother's birthday is the 28th of June, she relapsed again this year on September 28th, she's is in her 28th year and their Tel Aviv building and apartment number is 28 as well.

In the Gamara, twenty-eight means koach, strength; it was only appropriate to read pslam 28 at the kotel, 28 times...we need all the strength we can get...

From Debbie to Alexis

lifeline--october 20, 2010
photo by: elise kayfetz

an ounce of optimism

I slept at the hospital last night--I’ve been doing that the past couple nights. Lex and I have been enjoying our time together--between our late night chats and mini walks, it's been special. I feel like her roommate a little bit. I get her all to myself.

The hospital room is starting to feel like a studio apartment/ hotel--it has all the amenities--2 beds, T.V and DVD player, a desk, a refrigerator and of course a bathroom. Also includes laundry service (specifically for linens) and room service with an abundance of packaged Halva and hummus--deliciously Israeli--the main meals however, aren't so yummy. If it wasn't for regular checkups from doctors and nurses, you'd think we were living like celebrities--but we aren't celebrities and in fact, it hasn't been totally easy--just waiting and waiting for the next clue in this cancer game. But, as we have all been saying, la'at, la'at...slowly, slowly. We will wait and remain cautiously optimistic.

Anyway, at around 3:30am last night, Lex and I woke up, like clockwork, at the same time. We were both thirsty for water--she poured me a glass and then we went back to sleep. At around 9am, I got up and Alexis warned me in my waking hours that we were about to have some company. Two minutes later, nine or ten nurses and doctors walked into the room and stood around Alexis' bed. Two of Alexis' doctors were sharing her story to their colleagues, except, it was all in Hebrew--thankfully I understood what was going on. Alexis signalled to me wanting to make sure that what they were saying was okay...I gave her the thumbs up. They were literally showing her off--that's how good she looks.

After they left, she admitted to me that she felt sort of like an animal at the zoo--I don't blame her. Groups of doctors and nurses and medical students have come to see her--to see what this 27 year old beauty that happens to have cancer looks like. AND, all of them equally impressed with her--but not as much as one of her doctors from the clinic--specifically, Dr. Gazoontite--he is more than impressed with her and his optimism puts all of us at ease.

I ran into him at the elevators on my way out--he was looking at me with a smile on his face--and then he started talking. Still, with a smile on his face he said Alexis is incredible and that he's never seen anyone like her--he continued that most patients he has seen don't have the same fight Alexis has--"and boy that smile," he added. He smiled again and got off the elevator.

Things for everyone, both us here in Israel and I am sure for some of you at home have been tough--cancer is tough. So, when we get an ounce of optimism, all negative thoughts are immediately replaced by the positive. That's what we want. That's what Alexis wants. And too be honest, I think Alexis is tougher than cancer.

normalize this.

Cancer isn't suppose to be a normal experience. In fact, cancer and normal don't exactly fit together in the same sentence. Yet somehow, Alexis seems to be normalizing this--making her cancer experience, in some way, seem normal.

Focusing on everything else, while, I think anyways, forgetting what is actually going on inside her body. At least that's how it seems to be anyway. It could be that she's somehow normalizing this for everyone around her--protecting all of us from the reality of the thoughts brewing inside her head. But I refrain. I might be looking too deep into this. But alas, for Alexis' character, it would make sense that while we are all trying to protect her, she's actually trying to protect us.

when the going gets rough, you gotta keep on going

Alexis is seriously a tough cookie--she's got thick skin--a non destructible membrane. And even when things get a little tough, and when she's not exactly on easy street, she still keeps her head up high.

It also helps when she is surrounded by people who love and care for her--and even those from afar. It helps when she sees family and friends on skype; it helps when friends post a thougtful note on her facebook wall or in a private message; it helps when she knows how many people, even strangers, are on her side. It especially helps that her close friends have started to fly all the way across the world to be with her. It doesn't matter to them that they are in Israel, it doesn't matter to them that when they visit with Alexis they have to wear a mask, it doesn't matter. One of them didn't even think to bring a bathing suit because her only plan was to come and be here with Alexis. Nothing really matters except seeing Alexis with a smile on her face. And even when things get a little tougher, she's still smiling and giggling.

Team Alexis is mighty and we can feel it all the way over here in Israel and it helps.

an optimistic genius

Alexis and Debbie arrived--I've been consumed by it all (in a healthy way) and happy to be part of it. Alexis and I have really gotten close and I'm happy and grateful for the time we have shared--albeit under shitty circumstances.

We (Alexis and I) are similar in a lot of ways--both of us are connected and loved by a lot of people-- we tend to order either the most intriguing or expensive dish on the menu, have a similar palette and like pretty things.

We are also pretty strong--in a sweet, don't want or have time for your bullshit kind of way--her probably more so than I. The only difference is that I don't have this cancer thing that she does-- but, it doesn't seem to be in her way-- I mean, at least for someone with cancer it doesn't--together, we forget she has it--together, while enjoying delicious cakes, chocolate or popcorn with zathar, we forget she has it--and then, when she remembers why she is in Israel, it hits her, bites her in the ass, stings for a bit and then, we forget again. 

She makes cancer look easy--and in no WAY am I knocking the extreme difficulties others face when they look eye to eye with the disease-- but she makes it seem that way--she brushes it off her shoulders and continues onward. Faces the challenges with a smile. Always.

We have no clue what these treatments will bring us, but its impossible to not be optimistic--she's an optimistic genius and it's contagious. 

someone pinch me

As i was sitting in the hospital room with Alexis today, it hit me again that this whole experience does not seem real.

We were in the middle of a conversation/ her nurse, who, for the record is incredible was checking her pressure, I all of a sudden just said, this still doesn't feel real.

seriously, Alexis is in Israel because she needed a transplant because she relapsed? What?

lions and tigers and hospital mates oh my!

again, despite everything, which still doesn't even feel real considering the circumstances, this has been quite the adventure.

Last night, Alexis and I had a slumber party in her hospital room, however, we did not think we would end up on a safari.

A part from watching Don't mess with Zohan, just to keep the Israel theme alive, we also took a trip to the zoo...and by zoo, we mean our neighbour's snoring was so loud and vicious that if felt like we were in a lion's den.

Each time she would snore, Alexis crumpled her massive water bottle in hope that her snoring would stop. Whether it was Alexis saying "stop snoring" in her sweet voice or me trying to behaviorally condition her subconsciously, it wouldn't end.

Between giggling and the crackling, we eventually passed out, thanks to our little friend Advian...or so we think that's what we were given. Gd bless this country. Always a solution to everything!

b'sheretisms

Everything happens for a reason. At least believing in that helps make sense out of life anyhow. And if we need to make sense of how we got to a particular place or time, this helps.

I wasn't even suppose to be in Israel. In fact, the only real reason why I came here was because one of my best friends decided to move her February Toronto wedding to August in Israel. I was only suppose to stay for 3 weeks.

I extended my trip for an extra 10 days--however, since i've had a burning urge to go to India for so long, I decided to buy more time. So, I extended my ticket until November 20th,  got my shots and I was ready to go to India except one thing stood in my way. A visa. A visa that would take up to 2 weeks to 2 months (the details are frustrating) for approval--I couldn't risk getting a ticket without a visa (no Jewish father would approve of this)--so, I took it as a sign and decided not to go. Instead, I thought I'd just go home and surprise my family.

A couple days before I was about to change my flight I learned that Alexis had relapsed and any inclination I had to leave, dissipated immediately. I knew I had to and wanted to be in one place, and that was here. Israel.

To be here with Alexis and Debbie and now, most recently Rick, was b'sheret (meant to be). To not only be able to help ease their transition into Israeli culture--hummus, Hebrew and currency, help them navigate around the city and simply just be here is what was meant to be.

The Wronzberg's are a strong family and although I know the road ahead will inevitably be rocky and what not, I'm happy to be in the car with them. I'm simply happy to be here-- happy to contribute and mostly honored to be around someone as special as Alexis, who, despite all odds is fighting and fighting fiercely with a huge smile on her face.

From my journal...

From my journal...

"those little killer cells are downstairs getting ready--preparing to be transplanted into Alexis' body--little pac-man heads with shark teeth, going in and eating the cancer away--I pray. But back to Debbie. Her delirium post wake up was hilarious--but in all seriousness, every minute, Debbie asked, "did you take enough? how much did you get? was it four pounds of marrow?..." She wanted the assurance--needed the assurance. 

She later said to me while we were sitting in the clinics grandiose nursing room, swallowing the last bit of her Aroma egg sandwich, "I just want to make sure she gets enough." She said it with such confidence and emotion--tears brewing in her beautiful green/blue eyes--wearing nothing but a hospital gown and a pair of TNA pants--she wanted me to know, in that moment, how badly she wanted this to work. She wanted me to know, how badly, as a mother she wanted to be able to provide her daughter with what we hope and pray will keep Alexis' body cancer free. 

Debbie truly is amazing. Has been with Alexis every step of the way--flying to another part of the world to fight for her daughters life--and now for the first time, she literally has a hand in saving Alexis' life. She said to me, in one way or another, that she gave her blood first (at birth), then the donor from the last transplant and now she is giving Alexis her blood again. Full circle as she calls it. Putting back what she gave Alexis in the first place. 

Now the tug o war inside Alexis' body begins...and though the smile on her face is larger than normal and the glistening in her eyes is brighter, we know, we all know, that in life, no matter who you are, you never know what tomorrow brings.

it's like giving birth for the second time...

Debbie came to the hospital this morning at 7am so that the doctors could drain just enough of her blood and bone marrow for Alexis. 1.2 liters later.

By the time Alexis and I had arrived at the clinic, she was coming off the anesthetic. To say the least, Debbie was our early morning entertainment--laughter, smiles and sunshine filled the room making for a beautiful way to start the day. The energy in the room was one of excitement and bravery--Debbie was about to give back to Alexis what she had given her 27 years ago.
That alone is an experience that I am having trouble describing. The way I see it, it's as if Debbie was giving birth to Alexis again.or perhaps re-birth. Time can only tell.
Check out my blog entry, "From my journal"...

koach (strength in hebrew)

We're dealing with a strong team here--Debbie nor Alexis let anything stand in their way. Forget the doom and gloom or the what "ifs"--these two are focused on one thing-- getting Alexis home.

Forget the feel bad for me's or the relentless questioning of whether or not this treatment will work. In the meantime, they are enjoying life--enjoying being in Israel -- and before the treatments begin, Alexis was offered to ride in a mini airplane, called a moony...

more to come...

we're in a hurry, but not in a rush...

At 10:45pm, Alexis and Debbie walked through the arrival gate at Ben Gurion airport here in Israel. I immediately ran over to greet them with a full embrace and without dry eyes. A certain ease and peacefulness came over them--and they seemed be be comforted by a familiar face and were especially comforted by the fact they were on Israeli soil.

Overwhelmed by the outpouring of support in Canada, back home, by friends, family and strangers and by the intensity of the reality of being here, I sensed a lot of relief from both of them once they arrived.

Once we got all the bags in the taxi and headed towards the centre of Tel viv--their hope was even more realized and even more so after meeting with the doctors.

The journey for Alexis had begun and as her nurse put it so gently, “we are in a hurray but not in a rush.”


The way the doctors responded to Alexis was exactly the type of medicine that she really needed--one that she came so far to realize even more--a dose of hope.

It’s hard not to think of the connection between hope and Israel, as the nations anthem in its literal translation means Hope, or, in hebrew, Hatikva--which, in a way, makes it even more meaningful that she is here.


In addition, one of the doctors face lit up after Alexis shared with him how well her body responded after her last transplant. The doctors entire aura eased up--and, the climate and energy of the room suddenly became one of hope and optimism.

Alexis’ spirit, fight and beautiful smile remain strong and vibrant as she begins her journey here in Israel.


As difficult of a time this is-- and is perhaps suppose to be, we are remaining positive and enjoying our time together. Learning a lot from one another, consoling each other and venting--being real--no bullshit--there’s no time for bullshit--not today, tomorrow or yesterday.