By Your Side

by Jason Carrasco

  What I felt for Cass was profound because I’d never ever felt so deeply connected to anyone before. When I said to her, ‘I love you,’ I meant it with all my heart. My thoughts were always with Cass, and every night just before I went to sleep I’d visualise ways I could make her life better, or I would dream of Project CASNAS and picture Cass helping other people like she helped me. And when I’d wake up in the morning I couldn’t wait to be by her side, and strive to achieve our bold vision! It gave me purpose; it gave my life meaning again at its darkest moment.

  After my recovery, when I was able to think things through more clearly and reflect on the hardest times of my life, I realised I was very much in love with Cass. And it was a love that went beyond the hanging-out-with-a-mate and being-romantic-with-a-girlfriend sense. It meant so much more.

  I tried to think back to when I was undergoing treatment and what my feelings for Cass were like then. And although I don’t remember feeling any romantic urges for Cass or anyone, what I know for sure was that I was the happiest guy in the world when she was around because she would instantly take away all my worries and fears, even with just a smile!

  I knew more than anything I wanted to give back to her this most amazing feeling she gave me. I wanted Cass to know that no matter how tough times would get, I’d always be by her side. That I’d be the one holding her hand, that I’d be the one telling her to wiggle her toes to distract her from the needles, that I’d be the one making her laugh by wearing her wigs, that I’d be the one reminding her that the best way to fight anything is in two’s. Because it was her love that saved me.

  There were times when I wanted to tell her all this, but I didn’t know what that would mean, nor did I ever want to push anything on her.

  All those thoughts raced through my head, but I couldn’t really make sense of any of it in the moment. Nor could I ignore the girl right in front of me. We kissed some more and went home that night in a thick fog of doubt and confusion. Whenever anything significant happened in my life I talked it over with Cass, but not this time. It didn’t feel nice keeping secrets, but even if she had never thought of me in that way I feared she would feel betrayed if she found out I’d grown close to anyone else when she still needed so much support. I knew that while she genuinely wanted the best for me, it would make her really sad if she thought I was moving on with my healthy life, leaving her behind me and languishing in Cancer Land.

  Out of other ideas about how to move CASNAS forward, I called Antoinette. I filled her in on what had happened and said, ‘I can’t give up on this story, I just can’t. This girl is too special! Is there anything you can do to help?’

  She offered to talk to Sophie Ryan and the Sony Foundation team on my behalf. Antoinette was true to her word and I don’t know what she said, but within a couple of days I heard back from them with the news that yes, they were interested in the proposed project and were keen to set up a meeting with me and a couple of the film producers they worked with. I was overjoyed.

  The meeting was scheduled for late June but a few days beforehand I got a text message from Cass: HEY JASE, JUST LETTING YOU KNOW I’M IN THE HOSPITAL WITH BAD MIGRAINES AND I’M GOING TO HAVE AN EMERGENCY MRI. I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.

  I was so scared for her. Was this the beginning of the end? The thing that the doctors had said could happen anytime? This can’t be happening, I thought.

  A few days later I had the Sony Foundation meeting, with producers from Sony Music, Sash, Lauren and Hayden. I told them the whole story of me and Cass and what we wanted to achieve with CASNAS. I spoke about how perfectly it meshed with You Can’s efforts to help young people. I spoke with intense feeling about how special Cass was, and I stressed how urgent it was that we started because who knew how long we would have. They had all taken copious notes while I spoke. When I finished there was a brief silence while they gathered their thoughts. When still no-one spoke I said, ‘I’m sorry I’m so crazy.’

  Lauren said to me, ‘I think passionate is more appropriate.’ To my elation they told me they really liked the ideas and would spend the next week planning and then we could get underway with the filming!

  No sooner was Cass out of the woods than it was my turn for a scare. I was due for my next three-month check-up and I was sick with flu when I went in for a blood test and CT scan. What would normally be a simple cold or flu is a cause for anxiety in any cancer patient in remission because you worry it might be a sign that the cancer is back, putting your immune system under pressure and making you vulnerable to whatever’s going around. So I was already concerned and then I got one of those awful calls, the one where the doctor tells you to come in urgently ahead of the scheduled appointment. I tried not to panic when he told me that while the blood test had come back perfectly normal the scan showed spots all through my lungs that might be tumours from cancer that had returned and metastasised. The doctor said the best approach was to wait a week to see what would happen in the lungs, then have another scan.

  That week-long wait was pure torture. Most of us are good at forgetting pain and blurring out the worst of our terrible memories, but the knowledge of what I could be facing if the cancer had returned brought it all back: the terror, the sickness, the agony. I kept thinking about Dylan Tombides, and about Cass. I’d been so fixated on how long she had to live, and now suddenly I was scared for myself. How the bloody hell did she keep it all together when she didn’t just fear having terminal cancer, she knew she had it! I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to her about what was happening – another secret I kept from her – it was just too much worry to lay on her when she needed to focus on getting through her treatment.

  As the week wore on and the shock started to wear off just a little, I began to change my thinking. I still cried, frightened of what the test results could bring, but then I would wipe my eyes and say to myself, Well, if that’s the way it is I’ll just have to deal with it. I can still do CASNAS. I can go to treatment in the morning and film in the afternoon. I’m stronger than I was last time. I can do this. Just keep remembering who you’re doing it for.

  Finally, it was the day of the follow-up scan. The spots were gone. The flu virus had led to a bacterial infection in the lungs, which had now cleared up. The cancer hadn’t returned. The relief I felt was overwhelming. But then I thought sadly about Cass, and Dylan, and everyone else who had hoped as hard as I had but received bad news.

  On those days when Cass was home with no medical appointments and was feeling up to going out and eating, we always tried to make the most of it. We would go to lunch and then head for our special place. A conversation we had not long after my scare sticks with me. We were talking about the effect our being sick had had on our parents. Cass confessed:

  ‘My mum acts brave in front of me, which I admire, but I know she goes to bed at night and cries herself to sleep. I never let her know I hear her because I don’t want to bring her any more pain; I love her too much to do that. But I don’t want her to be worried, and the same goes for everyone else, including you. This is my problem and I don’t want you to worry about me because I’m going to be fine.’

  I told this story to Julie as an example of how incredibly strong Cass’s spirit was. Julie and I had drawn closer and closer over the past six weeks, with our relationship becoming more serious and intimate. I really loved how much she was supporting Cass and me. The two of them were in touch via Facebook, but Cass didn’t know how much Julie and I were seeing of one another. Because it happened so organically I didn’t have a plan or think it all the way through but I should have realised something had to give, and it did.

  Julie told me she wanted to take things to the next level – she wanted to use Facebook to tell the world she and I were in a relationship. I freaked out, saying, ‘No, I just can’t do that. I would never hurt Cass like that. You know she means the world to me. I don’t know exactly how she feels about me, but I don’t want to make her feel any less loved or send her the mess
age that I’m moving on with my life because of her circumstances. She’s my priority and I’ve always said that.’ I pointed to the scar running down my abdomen. ‘She’s the reason I’ve got through it all. When Cass is smiling, I’m smiling; when she’s happy, I’m happy. You knew that right from the start.’

  It was true that Cass was the reason Julie and I had met in the first place, and I’d told her all those things, but she was also right that things between us had grown and changed in an unexpected way. Even so, I couldn’t give her what she needed, and she was very hurt by that. She cut off all contact with both me and Cass. I told Cass Julie had decided that she really wasn’t comfortable being filmed in the end. Cass seemed to accept that and didn’t speak about it again.

  I was at university full-time now and Cass was making her three trips a week to have oncothermia, but in July she had a 21-day block off chemo cycle so we made arrangements for the Sony crew to make up to three visits to film us in that period. The first day they turned up was a real eye-opener. We’d agreed that we would start with both of us at my house, then they would shoot Cass at her place. I couldn’t believe the amount of gear they brought – the two biggest cameras I had ever seen, bags of cables and accessories, and two huge lights. It was a completely different world from me with my little handheld camera. I felt quite intimidated.

  As they were setting up, I suddenly got worried that the people we were trying to reach might not hear our message because they were alarmed by the sight of Cass’s baldness. I took her aside and gently suggested maybe she should put her wig on for the interview. She quite rightly put me in my place, saying a very firm ‘No’, and adding, ‘I’m proud of my bald head and I want everyone to know that.’ Fair enough!

  Finally, everything was ready. Cass and I were sitting in the kitchen, under the intense glare of those lights, and a producer who was sitting off-camera asked us the first question: ‘So, guys, what is CASNAS about?’

  Cass looked towards me expectantly, but I just sat there doing an impression of a rabbit caught in the headlights. Without being able to tear my gaze away from the brightness, I elbowed her and muttered, ‘You first.’

  She said sunnily, ‘We want to help people, isn’t that right, Jason?’

  I tried to form a sentence but it just petered out and I turned to the producer and said, ‘This is way harder than I thought it would be.’ Cass couldn’t stop laughing at me.

  The crew patiently persisted and gradually I loosened up, although I kept stuffing it up by looking at the lights or the crew when I answered a question, instead of at the camera. Cass found it all hilarious. Even at my best, I never seemed as comfortable in the footage as Cass did right from the start. She was a natural, just as I’d thought she would be. As we went on, I realised I’d made the mistake when I was trying to film Cass myself of over-complicating the questions I asked. They were ‘profound’ and ‘meaningful’, whereas the Sony producers asked us very simple things that easily got us talking. It was very organic and free-flowing, not artificial and stiff. When I felt like it was getting too personal, as they led me to describing in detail my illness and treatment, I just reminded myself what I was doing it all for.

  We did a full day’s filming and it was exhausting for me, so what must it have been like for Cass? Not that she’d let on. The final job of the day was to shoot a promo for the Foundation’s Christmas in July fundraiser. We were given You Can T-shirts to wear and had a very simple script to follow. It was just a few lines each, but we couldn’t manage to get further than our introductions before one of us would lose the plot and burst out laughing. We had nine or ten goes with plenty of time to settle in between, but we simply could not get through it. In the end, they used the footage of us cracking up because it was so natural and full of life.

  Before the producers left they gave us Handycams to film each other going about our normal daily routines. They said, ‘Don’t try to do interviews, just show us what you like doing together, like visiting your special place, those kinds of things.’ We did what they asked, filming ourselves being silly, singing along to songs we liked – Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’ was our favourite – and trying to capture ordinary moments from our lives.

  The crew came back for the other two visits, and I became a bit less self-conscious with each one, but I never truly relaxed. Shooting ourselves was different, and one day after we’d become very used to having the cameras with us, I couldn’t resist the urge to try again with the deep questions. I really wanted to get to the root of how Cass stayed so positive and generous. I asked her, ‘Why are you the way you are? C’mon, I want to know.’

  I didn’t mean to, but I pushed it too far and she broke down in tears, saying, ‘You know I don’t like thinking about those things.’ I felt really bad but I also felt frustrated and concerned that maybe the film wouldn’t capture what was so special about her. For the very first time when she dropped me off at home I didn’t say a proper goodbye. Remorseful, I texted her to say sorry and she texted back, HOW DARE YOU LEAVE WITHOUT A HUG AND A KISS! It was the closest thing to a tiff we ever had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

  – Viktor Frankl

  Each year, among its many events, Sony Foundation holds one especially for its valued sponsors. It’s a chance for them to hear first-hand the stories of the people their generosity will help. The 2013 Corporate Partners Appreciation Evening was coming up on August 11 and Sophie Ryan and her team had asked me to speak at it to explain the importance of You Can and in particular the urgent need for Youth Cancer Centres. But since Cass was relatively well, I thought she should be the one to present. It would be terrific for all those people to know about her, and footage of it could make a really good addition to the film.

  The Sony Foundation team were enthusiastic, but Cass herself was very hesitant about the idea. She’d never done anything like that before and tried to tell me she’d be too nervous and couldn’t possibly do it. I reassured her that she would be fine and the crowd would love her, and she’d be giving them a very important message. Because she believed so much in the cause she said yes. She still wasn’t sure quite what she wanted to say or how to say it to that high-powered audience. I offered a listening ear if she wanted to talk through ideas but she said she’d figure it out, and one night when she couldn’t sleep she did just that. She got out her iPad at 2 am and poured out her thoughts, and when she looked at it again the next day, her speech was basically done.

  The event was a cocktail party, held at Customs House, an imposing heritage building right down at Sydney’s Circular Quay, on August 11. I went with Cass and her parents. I thought I’d dressed nicely in a good jumper over a shirt and tie, but when we arrived and I saw all the glamorous, well-known people who were there, including the Nine Network’s Peter Overton, I felt like I would stand out too much. Fortunately Cass, who chose not to wear a wig, looked absolutely stunning in a black dress accessorised perfectly with statement jewellery. The girl was a style queen! We were taken in to mingle with the crowd and I felt better once I saw that a number of the men, including Peter Garrett, who’d just left the federal parliament after having served as Minister for Education, were wearing regular suit jackets over open-necked shirts. I stopped feeling self-conscious and began to really enjoy the opportunity to meet and talk to people who were committed to helping the charity’s great work.

  Just before it was time for her to speak Cass said to me, ‘I’m so nervous, I’m shaking! What do I do?’

  ‘Breathe,’ I said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I know how to calm down.’ She reached out, and in one swift movement took a glass of wine from the tray of a circulating catering staff member, skolled the contents – still managing to look elegant while she did it – then went up and delivered her speech perfectly.

  Cass ha
d the audience in the palm of her hand as she gave them a capsule version of her medical history. She explained her experience of being in an adult hospital, saying, ‘I felt like I was the only young person going through this disease. I felt very alone.’ Then she talked about how we had met and how we had become so close during my treatment. ‘I was there for him and he would confide his fears in me. In return, he has been there for me through every mood swing and every tear. Although what we went through isn’t something you would wish on your worst enemy, I’m glad that I had him by my side.’

  Cass told the audience that while I was now clear of cancer she had relapsed and had to have more brain surgery and follow-up treatment. ‘So, I am continuing to fight this cancer for a third time and am currently having more chemotherapy. Most of my late teens have been spent either in a hospital bed, or in an MRI machine or an operating theatre. It would have been so much easier if I had been in a You Can ward, around other young people who understood.

  ‘After fighting cancer for three years, I’m determined not to let this define me as a person. I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up and now I believe everything has happened to me for a reason. No, I’m not going to be a doctor or a nurse, but maybe I can use the things I know to help others going through similar situations, and ensure teens facing cancer will have the support I was missing in the beginning.

  ‘After being there for Jason when he had cancer and now with him being there for me during my treatments, I have realised how important it is for young people to help each other. This is a battle you can’t fight alone. This is why I’m so excited about the new You Can centre, which will soon be built in Sydney. This will mean no other young person will have to feel alone on the fearful journey of having cancer, which is so important to me. This gives me hope. I know that my cancer could come back at any time, but I also know I’m strong and I know how much difference the power of positivity can make.’