Living With Leukemia
In Love and Spirit: A story
of how a couple's love for each other is keeping their spirits
alive during challenging times.
by Danny Quevedo
 After
many years of searching, a few years ago my perseverance was
finally rewarded. I found my soul-mate, my partner, my boyfriend,
mi "hombre." Peter and I were living and enjoying our
relationship to the maximum. There were so many days of happiness
in our lives, and we both felt that the emptiness in our hearts
had finally found its fill. Unfortunately, these moments became
challenged as we were forced to face a terribly difficult situation.
I remember the day Peter went on vacation
to Mexicali with his mom, dad, and brother. He was going to be
a "padrino" (godfather) at a baptism. After five days
in Mexicali, he came back and told me that he had been having
frequent nosebleeds. I was a bit worried so I asked him to make
a same-day appointment with the doctor. He did, and I took him
to the hospital. I waited for him as the doctors checked him
out. I finally saw him come to the doorway. He was pale-as white
as a sheet of paper, scared and trembling.
The doctors told him he couldn't go home.
Instead, they sent him to the emergency room, where they immediately
began running preliminary tests. The first test revealed that
his platelet count was only at 20,000. The normal count was 150,000.
As I sat in the ER's waiting room, the
doctor came up to me and asked if I was a friend of Peter's.
I said yes. He then told me to hang around for a while because
my friend was very, very sick. This made me worry.
Many thoughts went through my head. I called
Peter's mom and told her what the doctor had just told me. She,
too, was frightened. It was close to 3:00 a.m. when I finally
heard a voice call out to me in the waiting room.
"Danny?" the voice said.
I turned to see who it was, and it was
a nurse standing by the door. "Yes," I answered.
"Peter is ready to be placed in his
room, and he wants you there with him," she said.
I thought to myself, "His room?" It was then that I
realized he was going to be in the hospital longer than I expected.
I went in to see Peter and we started talking.
I held his hand, which was very cold, and I tried to figure out
what could be wrong with Pete. I thought of so many illnesses,
one of them being AIDS.
I thought to myself, "It cannot possibly be AIDS."
Yet, all the signs were there-low blood cells, nosebleeds, paling,
weight loss. But no matter what it was, the one thing I did know
was that I would be with him regardless of the outcome.
Suddenly, a doctor named Dr. Chinowsky
walked in. He was wearing a mask and asked me to move away from
Peter because he said I might make him sick. I began worrying
even more.
Then, the doctor turned to Peter and said, "I'm very sorry,
but I have to let you know that-you have leukemia."
I held Peter's head against my chest, and
we both cried for a while. The revelation was hard, painful,
and overwhelming. Peter asked me not to tell his mom. I didn't,
but I did call my cousin. I could hardly talk because I was uncontrollably
crying.
Later that day, Peter's mom arrived at
the hospital. We told her the news. I remember seeing her face,
as she looked outside the window. She held onto the blinds, and
then turning to Peter, holding him, laying her head on his chest
and crying out loud. It really broke my heart.
I then made a promise, a vow, to be with
him all the way. As time went by, my strength became Peter's
lifeline, and I was strengthened by all of my friends-and even
by my family. It was the first time I was experiencing my whole
family together in a spirit of prayer and hope; standing by me
all the way. Peter told me that he believed our spirituality
would keep us up and keep us moving forward.
Peter began getting treatment and slowly
got better. By December 10, 2000, Peter was told by his doctor
that his bone marrow slides showed no sign of leukemia. The doctor
didn't understand how this could be. The only problem that remained
was that Peter's bone marrow was still not producing enough cells.
To this day, he will have to continue with chemotherapy for another
6 months up to a year.
This experience has drawn both Peter and
me closer to God; I started praying again. I believe that praying
has made me a stronger person, and I believe that this experience
has opened my eyes to the pain of the world. There are a lot
of people suffering and dying from leukemia and often times-as
long as we are healthy-we don't care about others who may not
be so fortunate. I've become more sensitive as I have opened
my eyes and ears to the cry of the world in pain.
For me, if there's anything good that's
happened from all of this, it's been that my family has shown
they care for Peter-and for my relationship with him. The day
I told my family about Peter's illness, mi tia-the one with the
"corazón duro"- cried and did not stop crying
for hours. Mi abuelita, who didn't know about my sexual orientation,
now knows about Peter and me. She not only accepts us, but is
now telling us to get married.
Another good thing is that Peter's leukemia
has led both of our families to meet each other. In fact, for
Peter's birthday, we all got together and celebrated it. It was
nice. And now, our families are making plans to go on a trip
to the mountains. Of course, I can't help but think that it's
sad that it took something bad to make them realize what was
around them, but I'm glad we're all together.
So where do Peter and I go from here? Well,
we just let time decide. We have set our minds in a very positive
way and are living one day at a time. We have plans to get married
as I am definitely looking forward to spending the rest of my
life with him. Peter is everything I have always dreamed of.
And regardless of what we may go through, we know that we will
overcome any obstacle-together. n
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