Yesterday I went ot Alex Macomber's Memorial. Denise and I traveled up to Maple Valley, WA to the beautiful little park where a gathering of Alex's family and friends were there to remember this wonderful and challenging 18 year old who died of an incurable lymphoma. I have all kinds of questions and dilemmas about the whole thing. But first a little background. Alex was my student during the 05-06 school year at DDHS. He was a sophomore. In my class he was a bright, cocky, talkative, self-posessed showman with a sailor's vocabulary. He smoked. He cursed. He had sketchy family which I later found out was just that - sketchy. He was a brilliant writer. He wrote some astounding stuff , and in his mind, said well, I can write, so he really didn't feel the need to writie anymore. During that year he told me and everyone else for that matter that he had had sex with Megan, a really cute senior girl. Loudly announcing this in the hall in from of my classroom, I could not believe his audacity. I got him back, though. I said to him that at least he picked a pretty girl for his first. He had no comeback! He walked with a little strut and sported his black extreme rock band persona typical of the Tacoma/Seattle area. He drove me nuts in class, yet I loved our time together. There was something bigger and bolder to this little punky fringe kid - - just the kind of student I like. During that time Taylor Rose was a senior and needing lots of my time. I'll explain Taylor in some other post. Suffice it to say, I felt emotionally drained by the end of that school year.
Okay, so time passed. Alex did not return to DDHS for his junior year. I have learned since then that he went back to live with his mom in Tacoma. During that time, Alex didn't really go to school; instead, he moved to an apartment, got a girlfriend, worked at McDonald's or somewhere, played his guitar, maybe even got his GED. Somewhere along the line, he realized that if he wanted the full life that he had envisioned, he was going to have to go back to school and take the necessary steps to that end. He showed up back at DDHS in January of 2008. He had an enormous number of credits to recover. The problem was this: he had been living on his own as an adult for about 18 months - -shoot, he was an adult. High school drama and intentions were so far below him, that he felt like an alien. Denise put him in my room as a TA so we got lots of time to chat and catch up. Alex sought me out after school to talk. On time I asked him why he was spending his time with a middle-aged white woman. He said he didn's have anyone to talk to. Crazy!
Okay, so it's March, and Alex was sitting at my desk grading some meaningless busy work, and I looked at him. He was the wrong color. His skin was yellowing gray - - sort of like old newspapers that have been left in the sun. He was alamingly skinny. I think everyone was noticing this at the same time - - Mariah, Dill, his dad, Denise. Here's the weird part. That morning when I saw his yellow skin, he had a aura. Now I know that sounds like new age mumbojumbo, and I am suposed to be this traditional Catholic woman. Alex emitted an aura - - it was a gray and pale yellow radiation. It was faint, and, if it was alive, I'd say it looked like it was gasping for breath. An overwhelming feeling that this person is not going to be with us for long came over me. I told Denise about it that day. That spring break he went to the doctor up in Tacoma and got four pints of blood. He was wasting away. After several tests they finally pinned down that he had this extremely rare T Cell lymphoma in May. Alex wanted to fight this thing, and at the same time I think he knew that it was futile. He came back to see me one more time that school year. He brought Desiree with him - - he was so pale and skinny and obviously in pain. The MERGE students in my class were stunned at his appearance. For the rest of the year I felt a dread; more than that; I knew Alex wasn't going to make it, but I wanted him to hope. I wanted to hope. It felt like the world was going to end. Really, what was the point of living. Alex knew this already, but he didn't want other people to give up hope, so he had to stuff that feeling so others could go on. I don't know if that is what he really felt; I hope it is. Another dilemma.
All summer long, I half waited for the phone call or email that Alex had either beat this thing or had taken a turn for the worse. I knew it would be the latter, but I hoped for the better of the two outcomes. School started this fall, and here is another Macomber in my class. It's Max, Alex's younger brother. In the beginning of September, Alex and Desiree and Max came to see me. Alex was puffy and swollen from the drugs, but he wanted to touch base with me. He also wanted me to keep an eye on Max. It turns out that Max was a perfect match for a bone marrow transplant. He was going to go into the hospital to November or December to donate the stem cells to Alex to see if it could help him. Max was also ready and willing to donate a kidney if Alex needed one. Here was Max, a quiet old soul sitting in my room full of unruly immature sophomore fish bait. He was nothing and everything like Alex. Well, all first semester, Max kept me posted on Alex's progress. When it came time for the prrocedure, Max missed a lot of school - - oh, well - - the life learning was huge for both of them. Hell, it was huge for me. Max is teaching me so much. He is a soldier - loyal and willing.
So the transplant took place in December, when Alex was strong enough to go through the procedure. At first things looked like they were going well. Max came back to school--there was hope in his eyes, but he was cautious. Weeks passed and Alex had to have a trach and was on a respirator. He took a turn for the worse again in late January. He made the decision to take himself off the respirator. About 18 hours later, he died.
Okay, so here are my questions. What about HOPE? What about Max? He tried to save his brother's life, and it didn't work. How will he live with that? Did Alex make the right decision? Is 18 too young to make that decision? Was he counseled about what his options were? Was it a question of whether or not insurance or money would be available? If he knew that it was futile, did he go through chemo and the transplant to supplicate the hope of his family? How can I protect Max? After all, Max is the one left to endure the world and all its troubles. Max had to comfort me when I wanted to comfort him. I love that kid - - more than I loved Alex. What can I do for Max?
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