Killer
of The Innocent
By Michael W.
Curtis
My kid sister,
Kimberly Aylene Curtis, was a normal thirteen-year old girl. She
was a soft spoken, quiet and reserved girl who loved little children. She was
small built and had worn glasses since she was a toddler. She had lots of
hobbies like tap dancing, ballet, reading, writing poetry and riding horses.
The kinds of things any thirteen-year-old girl would do. She also had her share
of problems much the same as any other thirteen-year old girl: what to wear, boys,
acne, dieting etc.
The end of her
normalcy didn't come in with a bang. It slipped into our
lives so quietly that no one even realized its significance. In September of
1978, she noticed a dime‑sized lump on her left collarbone, midway
between her neck and shoulder. No one in our family had any idea where the knot
came from nor did we pay much attention to it. When we thought about it at all,
we thought it was a "goose egg" from an injury she didn't remember
receiving. Then we thought it was a cyst or a boil. We passed it off and
figured it would go away in time. Yet it slowly grew day‑by‑day.
By December, the knot
had grown to the size of a golf ball and was painful to the touch. We were
forced into the realization that something was very wrong. Our mother took her
to an orthopedic surgeon.
The orthopedic surgeon
examined her and diagnosed the knot as a calcium deposit from a bone fracture
that Kim hadn't realized she had incurred. By the end of February, the lump had
grown well beyond the time it should have stopped growing and begun to shrink.
The orthopedic surgeon then re-diagnosed the lump as a hematoma:
large sack‑like pocket of blood. By then, the lump had grown to
the size of a tennis ball. The doctor was preparing to aspirate the hematoma
(drain the blood) when another orthopedic surgeon became involved in the
case and suggested another ‑very different‑ theory.
In April of 1979, Kim
was referred to a prominent physician, at Shands Teaching
Hospital, at the University of Florida, in Gainesville. The physician, Dr. Enneking,
examined the lump on Kim's collarbone and instantly knew what it was.
Kimberly Curtis, age thirteen, had cancer!
Dr. Enneking
diagnosed the tumor as a Ewing's Sarcoma: a rare type of bone cancer
that normally affects adolescents and teenagers. The prognosis was uncertain
because the fatality rate for Ewing's Sarcoma victim was very high.
Nonetheless, our family was optimistic.
Kim was admitted into Shands
Hospital and placed into their large pediatric and adolescent ward. That
entire area of the hospital was filled with children and teenagers with various
forms of cancer, leukemia, cystic fibrosis and other life threatening diseases.
Kim underwent surgery
to remove her left collarbone and subsequently the tumor. The surgery was
followed up with six weeks of daily radiation treatments. Before the end of the
radiation treatment, the radiation burned Kim's esophagus and made eating and
swallowing very painful. Before the radiation treatments were over, she began a
six-month regiment of chemotherapy. For one week out of each month, Kim
received a chemotherapy treatment mixed in with radiation treatments. For that
week and most of the following week, Kim was very sick and all her hair fell
out. It was a tough time for her with so much life and death going on around
her.
Kim's emotional trauma
was multiplied because she was in the midst of puberty when the treatments
began. Once the treatment had started, she stopped growing at all and her
menstruation stopped. This left Kim in a physical and emotional limbo.
Kim made some friends
at Shands
hospital. One of her closest friends was a girl, a year older than Kim,
named Kathy Enfinger. Like Kim, Kathy also had Ewing's Sarcoma. She
was going through chemotherapy at the same time as Kim, so the two had much in
common. They compared notes throughout their treatment and kept each other
company through the long hours in the hospital.
Kathy
and Kim were soul mates. They were going through the same
treatments at about the same time. They were best friends. They passed many
long boring hours together.
Kim was very bitter,
emotionally, during this period. The pain and sickness of the chemotherapy
combined with the long periods in the hospital, far from home, made her life
miserable. The presence of death all around her, and the all‑too‑real
possibility of her own death, created pressures in her life that few teenagers
ever have to face. She was frequently moody and often fought with her mother
and her family. It was a difficult time for her and our family. Kim remained in
Gainesville for two months. A pathologist, named Dr. Ervin# Shaw, friend and
neighbor of the family, arranged for a Dr. Charles Davis to take over her
treatments at Richland Memorial Hospital, back home in Columbia, South
Carolina. This meant that Mom and Kim didn't have to be hundreds of miles away.
That was a great relief to Kim, our Mom and the rest of the family. At Richland Memorial Hospital, Kim met
Frances Friedman, the Play Therapist at the Children's Hospital, and they
became friends. During her stay at Richland Memorial, Kim often helped Frances
with the younger children and became something of a counselor herself. Later,
during her remission, she would serve as a counselor at Camp Kemo,
a summer camp for children with cancer.
Once the treatments
ended, Kim started the business of getting on with her life. It was a trying
time for her; reintegrating herself into school as a
"normal" teenager. She had experienced life and death in a way that
her peers had not experienced and could not understand. One person who helped
Kim a lot was Mrs. Betsy Dyches. Betsy Dyches was a tenth
grade English teacher at Irmo High School. Kim was a student in her class, but
they somehow became friends as well.
When I first met Kim
Curtis in the fall of 1980, she was a student in my advanced tenth grade
English class. To be honest, in the craziness of the beginning of school ‑learning
ISO new names, faces, personalities, strengths and weaknesses‑ I hadn't
really noticed Kim all that much. But all that changed when she wrote her first
essay ‑ an essay about what it was like to have cancer.
One of the major
causes of her volatile emotions was the lack of her menstrual cycle. The chemotherapy
had completely stopped her becoming a woman at the normally very trying age of
14. After nearly a year without a menstrual cycle, Kim was scheduled to undergo
a treatment designed to bring on menstruation when she began to menstruate
spontaneously. Her finally passing into womanhood was the final step on the
painful journey to a normal life for herself.
Another major problem
for Kim was having to attend school while wearing a wig. It was a source of
embarrassment for her and she was very sensitive about it. She didn't want to
be seen, even by her family, with just her bald head.
As time went on, her
hair grew back, painful memories pushed farther into the back of her mind and
she became a normal teenaged girl. Her attitude toward herself and toward life
improved. She truly was a normal teenager experiencing normal problems like
what to wear and how to get the attention of a cute boy. She took up writing
poetry and often expressed her feelings in verse.
In June of 1981, just
when Kim had finally put the cancer behind her, a suspicious spot showed up on
a routine CAT scan. She returned to Gainesville and had a surgical biopsy on
it. Kim and our family was ecstatic to learn that the tumor was benign! Kim
breathed a sign of relief and went on to enjoy a fine summer. Then in September
of 1981, three years after the discovery of the first tumor, another tumor was
discovered on her pelvis. Again Kim and our mom packed up and went to
Gainesville.
At the urging of Betsy
Dyches, Kim decided to start a journal
to record her feelings and to serve as a basis for a book she wanted to write.
She wanted to write a book about her experiences with cancer in hopes of
helping other teenage cancer patients. She also wrote letters to Betsy Dyches. At Shands, the new tumor was biopsied
and found to be a Ewing's Sarcoma. Because this was a reoccurrence, her
chances for survival were greatly reduced. The tumor couldn't be removed
because of where it was located. Her oncologist, Dr. Graham-Pole, decided
to do a high dosage chemotherapy to try to shrink the tumor.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Wednesday, October 10, 1981. (Shands
Teaching Hospital)
Today was a super yucko
day. A ton of doctors came by and they all had bad things to say.
My chemotherapy might
be given in one or two huge doses. I'd be in isolation for 4 to 6 weeks. Even
then, we have no promises. If it's osteogenic sarcoma, I'll most likely
have my leg amputated. I've thought about it and that's okay with me. I was
upset and I cried when everyone left. I snuck down to the WATS line
and called Mrs. Dyches.
I feel like I'm okay
now. I just want to get this over with. I want to get the biopsy over with so
we will know what exactly is going to happen. I'm gonna try real hard to get up
and going after the surgery so I can get out of here.
I had the biopsy
today. I threw up and felt crummy afterwards. Frances and Mrs. Dyches both called and I cried both times. I felt so
afraid that I was going to die from this cancer.
Dr. Graham‑Pole
came in this evening and told me he wants to do the 4‑6 week
chemotherapy. He said my chances on the 6 month or 1 year chemotherapy aren't
good at all. Also, he wants to start right away so I can't go home. I was very
upset and I cried but I perked right up. I'll make it through. I'll be in a
room by myself. I'm just going to be brave and not feel sorry for myself. Life
is too precious to waste... I can't spell the drug I'll be taking but it's
called melaphalan.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
After her diagnosis, Kim was given a weekend off to relax before she was put
through the intensive chemotherapy. The chemotherapy treatment her doctor
wanted to use was different in that it was a super heavy-duty dosage. The idea
was to overwhelm the cancer in her body with what was intended to be a near
fatally high dosage of the drug. Chemotherapy drugs are poisons that are
intended to kill all fast growing cells in the body: such as malignant cells.
Fingernails and hair are among the other cells that are affected by
chemotherapy drugs.
EXCERPTS FROM KIMS JOURNAL
Saturday, October 17, 1961
I got out of Shands
today. Thank Goodness! I get a two-day vacation before I have to go back
for the long stay. Mom and Dad got me a motel room by myself, which is great.
I'm glad they understand my need to be alone for a bit. I've been so tired and sore today. This
cancer business is sapping my strength. I cried tonight.
Sunday, October 17, 1981
... I'm in Lake City
(Florida) in a Holiday Inn. Today is Sunday and I got out of Shands
Yesterday. My parents got me my own room for last night. They understand
my need to be alone sometimes and you can't have that in a hospital. There’s
two double beds for just me. I told them I had enough room for an orgy. I'm
sure they slept well after that. Anyway, it was just what I needed. One thing
was nice. I got to strip down in a wide open room without pulling any curtains
around my bed and I got to use the toilet without fear of someone walking in on
me. Real luxuries.
I really like my new
roommate and her family. They are such nice people. They prayed for me. The
girl's name is Shandra (Bailey) and she's 13 but
she's a dwarf. She had one hip operation and she's having another next week.
After that, she'll have on plaster pants for two months. While she was in
surgery, her mother gave me a tape of her's and said that Shandra
liked it a lot so she wanted me to have it. It is religious music by Amy Grant.
I was so touched, there aren't words to describe how I felt. Oh, by the way,
did I mention (?) she has a very nice
sixteen-year-old brother. He is really nice. The kind of boy I've been waiting
for. We talked a lot the night Shandra was in surgery.
My mother and I are
becoming close again. I guess that's why our bad times hurt so much, because
we've been so tight in the past. It's easy to take your frustrations out on the
ones you love because the love never ends. I still must protect her and Dad
though because as the parents of me, they are especially delicate...
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Kim checked back into Shands that Monday morning. The next
day, she went into surgery. The purpose of the surgery was twofold. The first
reason was to place a special "Central Line" I.V.
catheter in her pulmonary vein: called a Hickman Catheter. The Hickman
catheter was to prevent her from having to have new I.V.s started every
few days. During the course of chemotherapy, a patient must receive near constant IN. plus various injections of
drugs. A vein will only last so long before it wears out and a new I.V. must be
started. By using the large pulmonary vein, with its relatively stronger walls,
a single I.V. can last for months. The Hickman catheter was inserted in the
right pulmonary vein that runs from the right lung to the heart. Then the
catheter leads through the chest up to loop over the collarbone and then
emerges from the chest about midway between collarbone and nipple.
The second reason for
the surgery was to harvest bone marrow for later use. The chemotherapy drug
they planned to use would destroy the bone marrow in her body. In order for her
to survive, this bone marrow would have to be replaced with the harvested bone
marrow. Bone marrow can't be donated as easily as blood. It must be type
matched like any other organ. By using Kim's own bone marrow, they guaranteed
Kim's body wouldn't reject the marrow.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Tuesday, October 20, 1981
I had my surgery
today. They put in a Hickman Catheter. I call it a "hickey." It
hurts now but they say it will get better and I won't even know it's there. I'm
sure glad I won't get stuck so much.
I also got 1 1/2 pints
of bone marrow taken from the back of my right hip. That is quite sore...
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Two days after her surgery, Kim started receiving radiation therapy: twice a
day for three weeks. The radiation resident, Chuck, was the one who did her
radiation treatments the first time she was at Shands Hospital.
Kim was delighted to have a familiar person doing her treatment. Chuck was
wonderful with the kids and gave them a lot of support through the ordeal.
I got x‑rayed
and painted for radiation. Chuck is going to do it. He came off a research
project to do this for me. I'll be radiated two times a day for about three
weeks Kathy Enfinger is in for chemotherapy. It's good to see her. Her
hair is gone and she has a Hickman catheter too.
EXCERPTS FROM A LETTER
Friday, October 23, 1981
I didn't write
yesterday because I was sick to my stomach all day. I am again today but I'm
tired of just lying there feeling like s‑‑‑. Maybe I'll feel better if I do
things.
I started getting
radiation treatments today. I go twice a day. I lie on my stomach and get my
rear end radiated. One of those times they do my spine because a suspicious
area showed up on the bone scan and x‑rays. So as Chuck said, "we're
gonna 'blast' it." Chuck is the very good looking radiation resident. He
is also my "friend"...
I took the bandage off
yesterday from where they did my bone marrow harvest. You wouldn't believe the
holes they poked in me. There must be twenty‑five of them. Chuck went in
to watch them during the operation and he got so grossed out, he had to leave.
I finished the book
called Too Old To Cry, Too Young To Die. In the first part,
nine teenagers tell their story. Some of these people are from Shands.
Then in the rest of the book, they have sections on stuff like going bald,
relapse, medical expenses, handling parents, etc ... There was a case history
written by one girl that I can really relate to except for one thing. She died
in the end.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Kim read many books written by cancer patients. They helped her to get in touch
with her own feelings on the most horrible parts of having cancer. Her plans
for her life included writing her own book on the subject:
EXCERPT FROM A LETTER
Saturday, October 24, 1981
By the way "Mrs. Dyches," if you happen to notice
my grammar and punctuation mistakes, DON'T! That's not my bag at all. When we
write the book, that'll be your department. Okay? The chapter I'm gonna start with is called
"The Hospital Scene: Take a Walk in the Zoo." The first topic is
"On the Inside: Night Stalkers, Nurses and other
Goofs."
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Once the initial shock was over, Kim seemed to accept what was happening and
face things as they were. Much of that was due to several phone conversations
with close friends and the visit of Kim's closest friend from home. Another
major factor for her was meeting an eighteen-year-old girl, named Rennie.
Rennie was in remission from neuroblastoma, a childhood cancer of
the nervous system. Her leg had been amputated and she had been through the
full regiment of radiation and Chemotherapy. At the time Kim met her, she had
been without cancer for five years. In this acceptance, she gained unbelievable
wisdom for one so young. However, this was also a time of turmoil. Even though
there were times she was so positive, there were also times of fear for her
life. She shook them off quickly and tried hard not to let others know these
low points existed.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Sunday, October 25, 1981
I am reading Sunshine
(By Norma Klein) right now. I read it after I
had cancer before and I thought Kate was selfish to die and leave her baby
behind Just because she didn't want her leg amputated. Now I see that she had good reasons for her decision and it doesn't
matter what I think. I have no right to judge her and I hope people don't judge
me too much The time that my cancer hurts the worst is when I think about how
much others are hurting because of it. My parents and others that love me are
hurt by it. I can make my hurt stop but I can't make their's stop.
Life is so beautiful.
There is so much to experience, so much love, laughter, tears, and sunshine to
experience. I am truly going to try to improve myself so I can experience more
of the qualities life has to offer ...
EXCERPTS FROM A LETTER
Tuesday, October 27, 1981
I've picked up little tid‑bits about life since I got cancer but I've
finally put it all together somewhat. I know what living life to its fullest is
all about now. It is using your talents to be the best person you can be. It is
being open minded to new things, experiences and possibilities. It is always
striving to learn new things so that you can better yourself and in turn,
benefit others. There is no ultimate goal in life. If you ever stop growing,
changing and learning, you have stopped living. No one is better than the other guy. We always have things to offer
and things we can benefit by from others.
To know how precious
life is, you must first face death or experience the death of someone close to
you. I am sorry I spent time being depressed but I think it made happiness so
much sweeter. There is good in everything. Sometimes it isn't so easy to see it
but it's always there.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Once this change came over Kim, she often found herself helping others to
overcome their own trials. Her acceptance of her fate allowed others to accept
theirs. But helping others wasn't always easy for her. While she could accept
her own pain, she hated to see others in pain.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Wednesday, October 28, 1981
A nurse came into my
room and told me she wanted me to go talk to a sixteen-year-old girl (Dondra
Lovvorn)
that just came in. She has osteogenic sarcoma in her knee and
she's only known since Friday. I think she just found out today that they are
thinking of amputating her leg. Anyway, I talked to her and her parents for a
while, then they left the room and she started crying about her leg. Sometimes
I think this is a bunch of shit. I mean, I think she'll adjust to
it and all but why should she have to. I know her and her family are in shook
now and going through a very traumatic time. It's just a bunch of crap. But
then again, what was I saying about there being good in everything? Well,
that's true enough for me but maybe not for her. I don't exactly feel anymore
that I've gotten a crappy deal. Although sometimes, times
are very hard, I'm not saying I enjoy this. I'm saying a lot of good has come
from it and if I could go back to April, 1979 and change my future, I wouldn't.
I feel special I guess. Like God chose me because he knew I could do it and he
chose me for all the good things that have come from it. Without suffering and
crap, there would be nothing special about this
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
The incident with Dondra seemed to perpetuate Kim on her
roller coaster period of emotional ups and downs. She was outwardly so positive
about life, but alone in bed at night she often cried herself to sleep. She
acknowledged these periods without even seeing a contradiction.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Thursday, October 29, 1981
Dondra
met Rennie and decided to get her leg amputated.
I'm so relieved to hear that. Dondra is so nice. Today, Sandy
Callahan (a friend from treatments three years before) came up. I didn't even
recognize her at first, her hair is so long. She said she had a lump in her
stomach and was fixing to have a CAT scan. She's been off Chemo
for three years ... She kept saying, "Why do we have to go through
this again?" "Why us?" I felt funny because I accept mine. I
don't think, "Why me?" I think it's okay. I trust God for his
decision.
I cried and cried
tonight.
I didn't even read the
bible or pray before I went to sleep. Dondra feels a lot better now. She's
accepted the fact they are going to amputate her leg. She says, "take her
leg off," not "amputate." She's so sweet, I know she will be a
fighter.
Friday. October 30. 1981
Dondra
had her leg amputated today. I pray to God she
comes through it okay emotionally...
Someone up here died
today. The emergency alarm went off and everyone went running down there. Even
though I didn't know him, it still disturbs me.
EXCERPTS FROM A LETTER
Dondra moved
in with me today. I don't mind having her as a roommate at all. Her family is
nice. Dondra said her
stump looks like an overgrown boob.
I'm glad she has a sense of humor and a good attitude. She told the
doctor to go find her leg and scratch it.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Kim spent most of the time on an emotional roller coaster. She was always
careful to be pleasant to others but inside she had many rough times. On Monday, November 9, Kim received the first
of the high intensity chemo treatments she was to receive.
For the next three weeks Kim would be very sick from the drug and not write
much in her journal. One major side effect of the drug she received was that
her immune system would be useless for a long time. The drug kills off all the
white blood cells in the body and also kills the bone marrow that produces new
white blood cells. She would be given back some of the harvested bone marrow.
She also would receive some white cells via I.V.
just to keep her bodies natural bacteria from killing her and she would
be very susceptible to any infection. For this reason, she would be in
isolation and not be able to socialize much with people. She stayed at an
emotional low at this point. For Thanksgiving, Our brother David and I traveled
to Gainesville to share thanksgiving dinner with our family. Our Mom and Dad
were there and so we went too.
Kim was still on the
tail end of her isolation period so she was permitted to have company but only
on a limited basis and with no physical contact. Thanksgiving dinner was boxed
turkey dinner provided by a local church. The food was okay but our family was
thrilled to be together. I was amazed at the world that Kim was a part of. The
entire part of the hospital Kim was in was filled with children, many with life
threatening diseases. Yet the place was about as far from being gloomy as could
be. All the children there laughed and joked with one another. There was a
feeling of caring and mutual support between them that transcended race, age,
sex or any other normal delimiter. There was something else
there that brought tears to my eyes. The kids there could talk about serious
illness and death so intimately. To hear some of them talk you would think they
all had medical degrees. I guess in a way they did; from the University of Hard
Knocks! Sickness and death was all around them and a part of them. Like the
children in a war torn country, these kids had known death. Even the littlest
ones could name half dozen kids who had fought and lost hard battles within
those walls. Seeing my kid sister as part of that world really brought home to
me the first time just how sick she was.
One young 14 year-old
boy, named Eric Stafford, had a multitude of Ewing's sarcomas all over his body.
He was at that time Kim's closest friend as he was going through the same
intensive chemotherapy as she was. He and Kim weren't allowed close contact
during the isolation stages of their treatment, but they could sit in the same
room together and play cards as long as they wore surgeon’s masks.
One afternoon, Kim and
Eric were allowed to leave the hospital and come to the motel where our
families were staying; again wearing masks. David and I played "Uno"
against Eric and Kim and were soundly beaten. Kim and Eric were so
jovial and happy. Sometime during the afternoon, Kim and Eric decided they
would take their masks off even though they were under strict orders not to.
They made a big game out of it.
REMINISCENCES FROM DAVID CURTIS
It was touching to see
her in that position ... to see such positiveness in someone facing what she
was facing. It was so remarkable to see
Kim and Eric removing their masks in the motel room. It was a true act of
defiance. It was a symbol of their freedom, if only for the afternoon. They
knew what they were risking. They had weighed the risks and decided that they
wanted to enjoy themselves.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
When the weekend was over. David and I drove home. It was a solemn trip for
both of us. It had been the first time either of us had been to Shands,
to see first hand what it was like. It was a memory neither of us would
ever forget.
On Monday, November
30, Mom told Kim that her friend Kathy Enfinger was diagnosed as terminal.
That meant that the doctors have determined that her cancer had advanced beyond
the point where it was treatable. She would be allowed to live out her few
remaining days being made as comfortable as possible.
Monday, November 30,
1981
Mom just held my hand
and told me that Kathy Enfinger is terminal. I can't stop
crying. She is such a beautiful person. I guess that's why God wants her with
him.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Around the first of December, Kim would be released from Shands and allowed
to return home for Christmas vacation. She had a few tests to have run and she
had to get her blood counts to nominal levels. Finally, on Saturday, December
5, 1981, Kim came home. At the time, I was amazed at how happy she seemed that
Christmas. My memories of that time with my sister were my most pleasant
memories. She was so jovial and easygoing; a Kim Curtis I had never seen
before. I know now that there was a lot going on behind that facade.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Thursday, December 10,
1981
I talked to Arlene
(Mike’s wife)
on the phone for a pretty good while tonight. At one point I wanted to
cry. I have learned to take it easy, not to worry so much, and enjoy life. I
know things now that I never knew before. I only wish others could know too.
Even my own Mother hasn't caught on. It makes me kind of sad and angry way down
deep. Mostly sad. I guess people just don't stop and think. I don't know if I
would if it happened to someone else in the family besides me. I hope I can
grow up and find me a man that thinks more like me. I really envy people like Cyndi
and Tim who are so much in love.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Shortly after she got home, her vacation was marred by getting a viral
infection. Her temperature hit almost 103 degrees and she was pretty sick. She
was immediately hospitalized at Richland Memorial Hospital. Kim got pretty
angry about it. She desperately wanted to be home for Christmas.
My fever has been gone
for 34 hours now. I have a feeling my blood cultures are negative. If they
aren't, I'll have to muster up ever bit of strength I have to be able to
gracefully stay in this hospital. I want very badly to be out in time for the
Christmas holidays. Christmas this year will be very meaningful because it'll
mean being home with my family and friends and hopefully, no sickness for a
while. I will truly thank God if he allows that to happen.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
After ten days, Kim was released from Richland Memorial Hospital. That was the
good news. The bad news was that a chest x‑ray turned up what appeared to
be a tumor on her lung. I think that this is when a part of Kim really realized
that she was going to die.
EXCERPT FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Wednesday, December 16, 1981
I have to stop
thinking about dying. I thought about it long enough to decide that I can
handle it if it comes. Meanwhile, I'm gonna think positive, take care of
myself, make the best of my life now. I'm going to start on a new program to
form the good habits I need.
Friday, December 18, 1981
Dr. Davis came by a
little while ago and told me that the spot on my lung is most likely a tumor.
The other night I
started wondering, Frances believes that if you think positive you can get it
beat. I believe that too, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if I'm gonna die.
It's a very real possibility. Now, with this new tumor, if it's a tumor, it
seems the Melaphalan didn't work
Sunday, December 20, 1981
I just read the part I
wrote on December 16th. I said that I was going to think positive, keep
hoping and fighting, yet I'll make the most of my days now. It's okay for me to
think about dying because that's being realistic. It's simply a fact.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
In thinking back, that was truly one of the best Christmases our family has
ever had. Everyone got along well. I had my wife and David had his fiancée. Kim
seemed so happy and mom and dad were so proud and loving of their extended
family. The time we spent together was punctuated with laughter and fun. One of
the most enjoyable things about that Christmas was that Kim, David and I really
started to become close. You see, as we grew up, Kim was six years younger than
myself and four years younger than our brother, David. David and I were
inseparable and that always left Kim as the "third man out." But it
was more than that. Kim was an entirely opposite personality than David and me.
David and I were outgoing and gregarious. Kim was always shy and sensitive.
That personality difference combined with the age and sex difference kept David
and I from ever being really close to Kim.
One of my most vivid
memories of that Christmas was an "Uno" game we played on
Christmas day. Kim had gotten tired of wearing her wig so she removed it. She
was completely bald. Most of the time, Bald chemo patients
will wear a hat or kerchief or something to cover up their bald head. This
time, Kim just played cards totally bald. We made a number of bald jokes and I
ended up offering to, "shine your head for a quarter." She accepted
my offer so I shined her head with my shirtsleeve. Someone snapped a picture of
it and that picture has become a symbol, to my family, of Kim's acceptance of
her fate.
On Monday, January 11,
1982, Kim checked back into Shands Hospital. This visit started
off on a happy note when the CAT scan revealed that Kim didn't have a tumor in
her lung after all. Yet even so, Kim still had nagging fears she couldn't share
with anyone.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Tuesday, January 12, 1982
4:00 a.m. I've been up
all night. I'm losing some of my positiveness about this whole deal. I hate to
lie to people but I must start faking positiveness because I don't want people
to think I'm a negative person.
6:35
a.m. I'm so tired, I feel like a zombie. But I want to stay up until the next
shift comes on. I also want to be up for 24 hours, before I go to sleep. I
can't believe I've stayed up this long without coffee or anything. For some
reason, I just didn't want to go to sleep and be alone in bed. I'm weird I
guess. I can't tell anybody that because I have to put up a false positive
front. I hope people start coming in soon... I guess I like the company. I hate
to be left alone. But now that I have to put up a false front, I won't be as
eager to talk about my feelings. Why am I changing so much now? Is it because
of all the strain I've been under the past few months? I don't know. I just
hate for anyone to know I've been feeling so negative...
I got to see NICU
(Neo‑natal Intensive Care Unit)
last night. It was so neat and not at all what I expected. Some of the babies
are so tiny. There's one named Amanda that I'm gonna go and see today. I only
wish I could pick her up. It's hard to believe that a human being could be so
small. Cathy picked up Amanda and goes, "Meet Amanda, the fetus." It
was funny but true.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
If by this time, it was obvious that Kim was truly aware of the likelihood she
would die, it truly struck home when she found out Kathy Enfinger had died.
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Wednesday, January 13, 1982
I found out yesterday
that Kathy Enfinger died. She died one week ago on January 6th. I was so shocked. I didn't know it would happen so
soon. I don't want to talk anymore about the details of her death or how upset
I was. I just want to say how I feel now. I want to live better now. I want to
totally devote myself to improving myself and my life.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
On Wednesday, January 20, 1982, Kim started her final three-day chemotherapy
treatment. Like the last treatment, Kim would be very sick through the three
days. On Saturday, January 23, 1982, Kim started to break out with huge red
spots on her body. Immediately following the chemotherapy, Kim's white blood
cells were non‑existent. In that immune-suppressed condition even the
simplest disease is potentially fatal since she has no way to fight off any
infection that attacks her. In this case, the simple disease was chicken pox.
EXCERPTS FROM A LETTER
Sunday, January 24, 1982
Dear Mrs. D.,
I can't believe I'm
finally writing you a letter. I was thinking about calling you but I'm not
allowed out of my room. I have what they think are chicken pox ‑
they'll be sure tomorrow. And wouldn't you know my med
student and senior resident are both pregnant so now they have to stay
away from me. It's a shame because I really like the med student
(Mary).
I'm sending Katie a
birthday card. I know it's late, but I've been feeling pretty bad lately. I
need a blood transfusion but they have to wait to the very last minute to give
it to me because I'm developing a resistance to blood and its' hard to crossmatch
me.
Later: I'm sorry I can't,finish
this letter. I just don't feel good at all these days ...
EXCERPTS FROM KIM'S JOURNAL
Monday, January 25,
1982
I
keep having to stop writing because I've been so sick. I'm feeling better now
because I've been given some blood today. I have chicken pox! I'm on strict
isolation. I bet the kids on the floor who haven't had them are on isolation. I
bet the nurses love this.
Dr.
Graham‑Pole thinks I'm depressed but I'm not. I only appear depressed
when I'm physically down. He wants to send a psychology student to see me but
all I really want is some of the nurses to come in and sit down and talk to me.
There is nothing psychologically wrong with me...
I
just can't wait to be done with all of this. I feel that God has great plans
for me.
AUTHOR’S
NOTE: Those words were the last entry in Kim's
journal. By January 29th,
Kim's chicken pox had started to improve, but her strained immune system
had allowed her blood to become infected by bacteria. As a result, she was
placed in intensive care.
Dad
was called down to Gainesville. The whole family was in fear for her life. Many
times over the next few days, Kim stopped breathing and had to be verbally
coaxed her into taking her next breath. Finally, on February 4th, 1982, Kim needed a rest and was
placed on a respirator.
Knowing
that her time was now short, David and I went down to Gainesville to be with
our parents and to see Kim for what we believed would be the last time. Mom and
Dad were in bad shape emotionally. The last week had been very rough on them.
David and I wanted to see her one last time. We were warned that she didn't
look good at all. Though her appearance had been accurately described to us, we
still were not prepared for the way she looked. Kim was, of course, completely
bald from the chemotherapy treatments. Because of the lack of antibodies, the
chicken pox sores were as big as half‑dollars on her body. Her skin was
slightly blue colored and her whole body was bloated from excessive fluids. She
lay on a bed with a large tube running into her mouth. The wall behind her was
loaded with complex looking machines and readouts. The respirator was a huge
machine that beeped and hissed with each lung full of air it pumped. She had
only a hospital gown draped over her still body. Had I not been told, I would
not have recognized her as my sister.
REMINISCENCES OF DAVID
CURTIS
The
emotional trauma was ‑ horrible. We had been
prepared for the way she looked but that thing we saw in the bed wasn't our
sister. She was bloated and blue and had those huge sores all over her. I
realized then that she was dead long before we got there. We saw her only once
that trip and even then very briefly. Once was enough! The rest of the trip we
spent consoling our parents. It was clear to both of us that there was little
hope for Kim. That Sunday evening we left to go home. If our last trip back
from Gainesville was solemn, this trip was morbid. I know I spent the
whole trip trying to replace the horror of the way she had looked with memories
of the beautiful young woman I wanted to remember. I don't think I was
successful, then. There was a few times in the next few weeks when it seemed
she might regain consciousness, but she never did. Finally, on February, 27,
1982 Kim's exhausted body gave up the fight and she died.
I still think of Kim
often. We have her Journals and her poetry to remind us of her. I can't help
feeling angry that she had to die. We were just starting to discover how much
we had in common as people. I can't help believing she would have been one of
my closest friends, as adults, though we were not really close as kids. After
all, we both liked to read and to write. I often regret that she never had the
opportunity to see my children. She loved kids. I imagine that if she were
still alive she would have a bunch of her own, if she could. If not, she would
have adopted half the kids in the neighborhood.
Irmo High School now
has an award called the "Kimberly Curtis" Award. It's awarded each
year to the best essays written by Irmo students. The recipient's essays go to
compete in a nation wide contest. Perhaps, one day, the winner of the Kim
Curtis Award will publish a book and then in some small way, Kim's dream of
being a writer will be fulfilled.
Eric Stafford died a
few months after Kim died. He had already had numerous tumors
and his prognosis was never very good. Dondra Lovvorn
is still alive and is due to be married on November 10, 1990. My mother
plans to attend that happy occasion. Rennie
married, two years ago, to a man diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. Both are still
alive and well.
In loving memory of
Kimberly A. Curtis
Michael W. Curtis