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Chris Becker 
January 20, 1994 to February 28, 2005
Welcome to Chris' Web Page. This page will recap all the updates to our friends we send via e-mail. It includes photos of Chris and some of his old and new friends he met as they went through the process of overcoming cancer. Chris had a great deal of help in this effort and everyone who played on the extended "cancer ninja team" will never really know how much their efforts have been and are appreciated.
Journal
Monday, May 25, 2009 9:04 PM CDT Hi Everybuddy,
Happy Memorial Day! We figured that it was about time that we sent out another update, and this seemed like a particularly good day to do it. Today we’d like to specifically honor all of our family and friends who have provided military service to our country, especially those who have done so in combat environments.
This is Chris’ update, so we’re going to add Chris’ twist to it. As you know, he is buried in Florida National Cemetery, so he is surrounded by many veterans. Today is a big day at places like Florida National Cemetery. We paid our respects to Chris (as well as the other children there in his section of the cemetery, and a few other of our friends who are buried there) yesterday, in part so that we’re out of the way when the tribute is rendered today to the war heroes there. Chris fought in the war against cancer, but obviously not in a military campaign.
Today has a more personal significance to us. On May 25, 1999, Chris was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. The night before, we had received a telephone call from Chris’ pediatrician, informing us that there was something wrong with his routine blood test results (the test was done a few days earlier at our request because, although he had recovered from an ear infection, he was not feeling any better) and that she had set up an appointment for Chris to visit a “blood specialist” the next day. Although we recognized that an evening phone call from a doctor was significant, we were not prepared for what would happen next. In fact, Alison distinctly remembers thinking that the problem must have been along the lines of a vitamin deficiency.
It was not until the morning of May 25, 1999, when Alison drove Chris for the first time to what would become a very frequent stop, the “Tampa Clinic,” that it became clear that the problem was much bigger than a vitamin deficiency. Until that day, she did not know that hematology (study of blood disorders) went hand-in-hand with oncology (study of cancer).
Up until that day, Chris’ primary symptoms were fatigue and bruising. During the drive over to the Tampa Clinic though, Chris cried out in pain for the first time. As it turned out, it was because the tumors were growing large enough to begin pressing on some of his organs and bones. Chris and Alison were met at the clinic’s door by the head nurse, the child life therapist (we did not even know what that was until that day), a woman with the clipboard of all of the initial forms to be filled out, and were very quickly met by an oncologist. At the clinic, Chris received all of the attention that he needed: medications to dull the pain and one-on-one attention by the child-life therapist in order to prep him for an immediate (non-anesthetic) bone marrow aspirate. Alison remembers that sickening feeling when the doctor started talking about how he probably had leukemia, but she needed a bone marrow sample to verify it because it could be something else more rare and more aggressive.
Pat did not initially go to that first visit to the Tampa Clinic because we did not understand the seriousness of the situation from the night before. Alison called Pat while the testing was going on, and he joined us later in the morning. After the bone marrow aspirate was done, we were told to get something to eat, go home and pack a bag, and drive over to our first stay at All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg. The doctor said that while we were getting organized for a hospital stay, she would be sending the bone marrow sample directly to the hospital’s lab so that we’d have the diagnosis confirmed by the time we got there.
Of course, neither Alison nor Pat were hungry, but we did our best to try to remain calm for Chris’ sake. Alison particularly remembers thinking that “people survive leukemia,” so we’d get through this somehow. By the time we arrived at the hospital, the doctors already knew that the diagnosis was not leukemia; it was the more rare and more aggressive “something else” that the doctor did not expressly identify at the Tampa Clinic. It was neuroblastoma. The initial concern at the hospital was to determine the extent of disease – just how wide-spread was it? It turned out that it was everywhere: there were many soft tissue tumors and bony tumors, in addition to an estimated 2/3rds of his bone marrow having been displaced by tumor cells. He was very sick.
Chris was in-patient at the hospital for 3 weeks: undergoing scans and testing, getting his first round of high dose chemo, trying to see how he reacts to the chemo so that the medical team could gauge how to help him recover from it, and otherwise get used to the fact that life would never again be the same. Those initial 3 weeks were a blur for Alison and Pat. We had to make the first of a long series of life-and-death decisions without the benefit of a medical background – and while trying to deal with emotional enormity of it all. Eventually we got the wind back in our sails. We learned about many things, including Caring Bridge, so we were able to keep all of you informed about the goings-on in Chris’ life. With the exception of those first couple of weeks, you have been a very important part of Chris’ life ever since. If you ever want to revisit some of Chris’ experiences, all you have to do is visit the history pages of his webpage: www.caringbridge.org/fl/chrisbecker.
One of the many things that we reflect on from time to time about Chris is his remarkable resiliency and ability to make things look much easier than they actually were. Even during those very early days, Chris’ personality came through. The hospital staff members knew that he was going to be a “frequent guest” there, so they wanted to make sure that he felt comfortable there. For example, as he moved from various departments (like Radiology or Nuclear Medicine) in those early days, they would give him a little trinket gift as a thank you for his cooperation with the scan procedure and in hopes that he would not dread his next inevitable visit to that department. From that, Chris developed the concepts for his bowl of chocolate “’Hugs and Kisses’ from Chris” that was regularly set up in his hospital room (for nurses, doctors, visitors, etc.), as well as handing out smiley faces.
Chris had a very generous heart. He shared toys easily, and he almost always had a smile to share. He made the best of the circumstances that came to him. May 25, 1999 was a horrible date to us, but it was also the date that began the start of Chris’ ability to live larger than life. Yes, he was just a child. But he was a child who was able to convey noble concepts that transcended his youthful age and his circumstances. He certainly taught us about joyfully putting one foot in front of the other for each day of the rest of his life. Why worry about the next round of chemo-induced vomit when there’s pizza just as soon as it’s over?
There’s a poem written by Ralph Waldo Emerson that seems to sum up Chris’ life:
Success
To laugh often and much
to win the respect
of intelligent people and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure
the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty,
to find the best in others;
to leave the world
a bit better, whether
by a healthy child,
a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
to know even one life
has breathed easier
because you have lived.
That is to have succeeded.
Chris succeeded in a big way, at least in his parents’ eyes.
Joke of the day: What did one eye say to the other? Something between us smells.
Thank you also remembering Chris in your thoughts and prayers and for his friends who continue to need your support: Christa, Kimmie, Yaakov, Brian, Nathaniel, Makmoud, Keeley, Taylor, Christina, Daniel, Bobby, Luke P., Camille, Sammy, Irmel, Donald, Andrew, Artur, Keith, Dana, and all of the young cancer survivors, along with those others, like Chris, who have fought bravely against insurmountable odds. We have actually lost contact with many of these kids (some have grown-up since we first met them . . .). However, we try to keep up on our research; many of the survivors can suffer from side effects ranging from stunted growth, to weakened heart muscles, hearing loss, and other numerous less than desirable effects. So...please keep them in mind.
Chris, we miss you!
Love,
Mom and Dad
Read Journal History
Links: http://www.oncolink.com/disease/neuroblast/ OncoLink - Neuroblastoma
http://www3.cancer.org/cancerinfo/res_home.asp?ct=31 American Cancer Society - Neuroblastoma Resource Center
http://clinicaltrials.gov/ Cancer Clinical Trials
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