Bays honor fallen friend

This article also appears in the Sault News where it was originally published

By SCOTT CHURCH

For The Sault News

BRIMLEY – When we lose someone close to us, we latch onto anything we can think of to keep that person fresh in our hearts and our memories. It might be an article of clothing or a piece of jewelry, or in the case of a senior basketball player and his teammates, it might be an autograph on a pair of shoes.

Brimley high senior Brandon Mills was preparing for his big day. The seniors parade through the school's elementary and middle school wings prior to graduation to be celebrated by fellow students and the teachers who had taught these kids in their formative years. Brandon had been feeling tired in recent days and the walk through the school became too much for him. He had undergone some tests but results were inconclusive. Brandon was referred to Dr. Arrango for further testing.

The results were devastating. Brandon was diagnosed with leukemia and began treatment immediately. That was June 1. By June 18^th, Brandon was in the intensive care unit at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit because the oral chemotherapy treatments were causing bleeding in his lungs . He was switched to intraveinious chemotherapy. The problem was fixed and Brandon was allowed to come home for a day here and there until a bone marrow transplant happened on August. 10. By September 22, there was no sign of the leukemia and on October 22, he came home to lead the team onto the football field and flip the coin prior to the game that night. On his facebook page, he wrote, in part.

“I was in remission and honestly, never felt better. I had the honor of walking the football team to the football field that I haven't stepped foot on in awhile, being allowed to flip the game coin and keep it.”

One of the reasons that that was so important to him was because of his friend Sean Hill. Sean and Brandon had a health class together as freshmen and became fast friends, joking with each other in class and relying on each other for help with the schoolwork.

“He was always giving me good advice,” Hill said. “Sometimes it was about sports and sometimes it was about life. But he always knew what to say.”

On November 1, Brandon returned to the hospital in Detroit for a post-transplant check-up and for the second time in his young life, Brandon received news that nobody wanted to hear. The leukemia was back and this time, it was worse. Brandon was given two weeks to live.

Hill found out about Brandon's prognosis at school as Brandon came in for a visit.

“He told me that they were giving him a week or two to live,” Sean said. “He told me during school but nobody knew yet so I had to go through the rest of the day like nothing was wrong. That was one of the hardest days of my life.”

Earlier in the process, Hill had gone to see Brandon at the hospital with an idea to honor his friend. He wanted to personalize his basketball shoes for the season in honor of Brandon. He used the orange color that represents the fight against leukemia and Brandon agreed.

On November 14, he came to the gym to say hi to Sean and the rest of the team. Sean had already put Brandon's initials on his shoes, and it soon turned into a Brandon Mills signature when he saw them. Soon, Brandon was experiencing writer's cramp as every other member of the team asked him to sign theirs too.

“They saw him signing my shoes and thought it would be a cool idea,” Hill said. “We dedicated our season to him and it's been going pretty good so far.”

On November 18^th at 12:53 p.m., he took his last breath, surrounded by family, just four days after signing the shoes.

“I had my hand on his chest and felt him take his last breath,” his sister Jessica, who was kind enough to provide a timeline for this story, said. “I felt his heart beat for the last time.”

Sean has done a lot of reflecting on his time with Brandon and about some of the things that Brandon would tell him.

“He would always say that things happened for a reason, and he said it even after he knew how little time he had left,” Sean said. “I could never understand how he could feel like that.”

“I think about him all the time,” he continued. The shoes are a constant reminder. I also have an orange bracelet that I wear for him under my shooting sleeve. I try to focus on the game, but after, I look at what I did wrong and what Brandon would tell me about it.”

The Bays will start the district tournament on Monday in Engadine and whether their run lasts one game or seven, Brandon will be with Sean and the boys every step of the way.

Literally.

Four Years And a Day

Four years and a day ago, I lay on the operating table for over six hours to remove the cancerous tumor from the lower part of my colon. There are days when it seems like a distant memory and days when it seems like yesterday.

Last night (Saturday) I and some of our friends and Kelly's parents surprised her with a small birthday dinner gathering in Brimley. Saturday morning, we were going different directions because of my freshman basketball game and Abbie's travel basketball game in Newberry. I thought I had it planned out perfectly. While we're getting ourselves ready, Kelly suggests that we go to Gaylord, get a hotel room and use the pool and hot tub since we were planning to go down there the next morning anyway. I am in a full-blown panic at this point, trying to figure out a way to say no to Gaylord and come up with a reason why.

Any other night and I would have been in the car before she finished her suggestion because I like to do stuff like that and she knows it. I thought she must have been on to me because she doesn't usually suggest things like that. So, I'm wondering why, WHY of all nights, she suggested Saturday night to go and do this.

Even when we got to dinner, I still had it in the back of my mind that she must have seen the texts between me and my co-conspiritors and was just messing with me on Gaylord.

I finally figured it out after dinner. And by figured it out, I mean I found out because Kelly told me. We had a round of shots and Kelly toasted everyone for being there. During the toast, she said that in addition to this being a good day because of of our get-together, it was also a good day because it was four years ago to the day that I had my surgery. She got a little emotional when she said that and I was completely stunned. We had had about a two second conversation about this being the anniversary of my surgery, but it was pretty brief and I had forgotten all about it. What stunned me was that it was really a big deal to Kelly. I have tried to put it out of my mind as much as I could because I feel like I have enough reminders in my every day life. But the fact that Kelly put so much value on the day made me re-think it a little bit.

A lot has happened in the four years since then, both good and bad. Some of the good things have been that we have graduated three kids in that time. We have added a pug to our four-legged family, and none of our kids have informed us that we are going to be grandparents. (knocking on wood).

On the other side of the coin, I lost my grandma last year in early January. I can't really get into that right now because, somehow, it hasn't really hit me yet. I can still hear her voice in my head sometimes and part of me died when she did. Kelly lost her grandmother as well. Kelly always loved to tell the story of how resourceful she was. When Kelly was a child, she was riding with her grandma and one of the tires came off the car. All the lugnuts were gone from the tire and Kelly's grandma had the presence of mind to take one lugnut off of each of the other tires to put the spare on and get home.

Also on the bad side of the coin, my ex-wife, the mother of my children passed away in August of 17. She left after going through a living hell for the past two-plus years. For those of you who don't know already, the breast cancer that she dealt with had moved into her brain without anyone knowing. She complained of weakness and pain and she continually heard that it was just part of the recovery process. At Thanksgiving of 2015 it became apparent that there was something serious going on and we had a conversation about her going to the doctor and not leaving until they had agreed to do whatever tests it took to figure it out. They did the tests and found the tumor right before Christmas. I remember getting the phone call from her asking me to if I could pick Abbie up from school. She was sobbing, telling me about the tumor and she was so afraid that she was going to die. I told her that she was going to be fine and that we'd talk after she was done. I had no idea that that would be the last time we would ever speak actual words to each other. She told me that the local hospital had called and told her to come to the ER immediately. From there, she went to the hospital in Petoskey, where she was promised that she'd be home by Christmas and Andrew's birthday. The initial surgery went well, but her brain bled after and created a lot of swelling and pressure on the brain and a second surgery had to be performed immediately. Liz didn't regain consciousness for weeks and when she did, she was unable to move or even speak. She could respond with her eyes, but nothing else.

As weeks dragged into months, the kids were forced to watch their mother slowly wither and die as the improvements that were made were small and the cancer in her brain began to attack her again. She fought as hard as she could, but in the end, she lost the battle. All the kids were devastated, and Kelly and I cried for all of them. The worst though, was checking on Abbie before I left for work at night. Many nights I would stand at her door and watch her as she listened to an audio book recorded by her mother. It's a Winnie The Pooh story and Abbie would listen to it over and over at night.

She did see Andrew and Callie graduate high school, and I know that it meant the world to them and to her that she was able to see that.

That was what made the whole ordeal so frustrating for everyone. You could talk to her and look into her eyes and you know that she was aware of what was going on around her. She was trapped in there and just couldn't make her body do what she wanted so badly for it to do.

I know that it sounds like I'm getting a little sidetracked, but I think it's important for a couple of reasons. The first is that this sort of explains the reason that I don't go to cancer survivor stuff. We donate to different cancer fighting causes, but I don't like to be recognized for being a survivor because I didn't do anything special. I just lived. What happened to Liz or the thousands of other people who have lost to cancer could have happened to me. It just didn't.

The second is cancer isn't just about one person. It doesn't just affect you, it affects everyone around you. People have to do things for you because you can't do them yourself, and you have to rely on people for those things. Liz's cancer had an effect on all of us, and mine had an affect on more people than I can even name.

The kids came to live with us and it was an adjustment for all of us. We got another dog out of the deal too as Marsh joined the herd. We are only one pooch short of a basketball team now.

Liz and I were supposed to hate each other, I know. But we were actually better friends towards the end than we were while we were married, I think. That may seem weird, but that's just how it was.

There have been other changes in the past four years, but they seem small.

As I write this, Kelly, Abbie and I are sitting here watching the Grammy Awards and watching her watch all the singers that she listens to on Hits 1 is actually kind of fun. I can't say enough about the bravery and toughness she has shown through this whole process. At her mother's “funeral,” Abbie got up and said that she had some things she wanted to say. I had no idea what they were, or how she was going to get though it, but she had the whole room laughing and then in tears during her five minutes of talking about her mom.

I'm rambling now, which happens from time to time when I'm trying to figure out life.

The bottom line is that it's been four years and a day since I went under the knife for the first time, and I'm still here. One more year and I'll be officially be considered cancer-free. I'll be here for that too, and we'll see what changes the next year brings. Hopefully more good than bad.

I Will Win