The City That Held Their Hopes

Eric’s younger brother John turned 30 this year, but Eric still refers to him as “my little brother Johnny.” After their parents’ divorce, John stayed with their mother while Eric lived with their father to finish high school before joining the Navy. Little Johnny always looked up to his older brother, even from afar.

At the Norfolk airport, on his way to a cancer hospital in New York City in late spring, Eric held up one hand, making the ILY (“I love you”) sign to John until he disappeared from sight. Eric knew his days were numbered — too few to catch up on all those years apart.

New York has not been a pleasant place for Eric or his wife, Geodee. Getting treatment in the city required a rigorous approval process from the Navy, but the couple was determined after hearing the hospital had a 90 percent success rate with Eric’s type of cancer. But ever since June of last year—ever since the stem-cell extraction, two rounds of chemotherapy and a surgery — the city has become a symbol of their many medical setbacks.

Geodee spent four months staying at a modest hotel in Manhattan without their children. As time passed, the hope of recovery dwindled, until the only question left was how long.

After Eric’s diagnostic CT scan, a taxi took them back to their small hotel. Rain fell, dulling the vibrancy of Fifth Avenue. Eric stared out the window, knowing he was running out of options.