"To my boy...
When you were born, on August 21st 1979 in Rosario, Argentina, I had spent hours at the pre-delivery course. My 21 years, which had let me run away from the military, read secretly, watch my friends disappear, feel watched, learn the code from the streets... none of this helped me when I went into labour. Although I tried to apply what I had learned at the classes, it was very hard, the pain was too much and you took too long to get out. But that is how you were born, dehydrated, and, although I was half asleep, I watched my mom give you sips of water. You were a very chubby baby when you were born, like those you feel like squishing at all times.
When you were a year and a half old, your father and I separated. Since then, we have always been together, without letting anything get in the middle of our relationship, taking care of one another, you in school, I studying and working, working hard not to miss any school parties, no father-teacher conferences. Your grandfather took you to your first soccer match. You were six years old then and played on the ground while the ball rolled in the soccer field. Later it became your favourite sport and you became one of the best players in your team, the "Leftie", the "Black", your whole life is surrounded by soccer. You started loving Newells Old Boys since you were little; we are LEPROUS WITH POWER OF ENDOURANCE! That is how the fans of soccer call our soccer team. I remember when the, like it or not, best player in the world, Diego Armando Maradona, debuted at Newells. I had no money for the tickets so a colleague from work let me borrow some, on the condition that I would give it back with my next pay check. It was one of the best days, both of us screaming and singing.
Your adolescence was complicated like everyone else's. When you were twelve years old you lost your grandfather and that really affected you. When you were 20 you lost your grandmother, whom you adored, whom you would tell all of your adventures with the girls, whom you woke up in the middle of the night, after partying, so that she would prepare you matte, and she would get up and listen to you gladly. After her death, I remember seeing you hours and hours sitting in the sofa staring at nothing. In 2001 I lost my job. My fabulous job at a multinational company got ruined and with the little money I had, after losing half of it with the playpen, I told you that I wanted to leave, I couldn't stand this country one more second... You looked at me and told me that you didn't know if you would come with me.
On May 6th 2002 I arrived to Seville, very sad, because the hug that you gave me when we had to say bye was so strong that I still remember feeling you shiver. During my first months I felt very lonely. At night when I went to sleep I felt the door open and I imagined you entering, 10 months after arriving to Spain, I saw you enter through the door at the Seville Airport. It was February 2003 and you were wearing shorts and slippers and your hug was again very strong, but this time you weren't shivering.
After 8 years in this city, 7 for you, we went through a lot of good moments and other not so good. We became fans of Betis because we like to suffer. In those years I met Gaspar, who filled my life with colours, drawings, taught me so many things, like for example how to ride a bicycle. I will never stop thanking him. Estefanía appeared in your life to rescue you from the sadness and became your girlfriend.
The worst thing that is happening now is this Lymphoma you have in the middle of your chest, if I could pull it off I would do it with my bear hands. The chemo is very tough and watching a son suffer is almost unbearable.
The doctor said: "This can get cured" and when I was feeling down, only that phrase mattered. My boy, you will get out of this, we will get out of this, and cancer has a lost battle with you and a war as well. When they discharge you and tell you that the tumour is gone, we are going to get drunk, cry and call Argentina to tell them that the lymphoma has disappeared. And it disappeared, we hope that forever!
With all my love!"
Nora Casalanga (Maximiliano Colussi's mother, T-Cell Lymphoblastic Lymphoma patient)
Right now my child is fine, attending his regular check-ups and taking medication. In November he will finish his treatment completely, which started in March 2010.
If you want more information about the donation of bone marrow to help people like Maximiliano (and many other patients) to have the opportunity of a cure, click HERE. Remember that the donation of bone marrow is altruistic, anonymous, and universal. If you register as a bone marrow donor, you could be making a donation to a person from anywhere in the world. If you want more information, write to [email protected] or call us on our free phone number (in Spain) 900 32 33 34.
You could also become a member of the José Carreras Foundation. With a little amount you could help us to continue our research.