Adrian's Answer To Cancer: "There is no finish line - ever."

We Called Him 'A-Man'
By Tara Elkins

When I was seven years old, my parents told me that they wanted to adopt another child to bring our family of five up to six. I didn't think much of it until we got the "official" call on Mother's Day 1983- an infant boy in India needed a family and he would soon come to ours. Suddenly I would no longer be the baby. My place in our family was threatened and I wasn't so sure what to think about it.

We piled into our minivan and headed to the airport to greet our new arrival. As soon as Adrian came off the airplane, his big brown eyes peeking out from the wicker basket in which he was transported, I realized that this was a little girl's dream come true. I had a real live baby doll to hold and cuddle, to pamper and love. And so, it came to be, that I was a big sister.

Not many years later, my brother Miguel came to our family from Guatemala. "The boys" became our family's focus, but Adrian, still the baby of the family, remained everyone's (even Miguel's) pride and joy. From a young age, Adrian had a certain way about him. He exuded a calmness that, accompanied by an addictive smile, made you instantly fall in love with him, want to be his friend and thoroughly enjoy his company. My siblings and I (including my older brother Chris, my younger brother Miguel and my older sister Shannon) treated him as if he were our child- probably spoiling him even a bit too much.

We watched him graduate from elementary school, cheered him on at track meets in middle and high school, and hugged him tightly when he walked the stage at his high school graduation. With apprehension and excitement, we sent him off to college, only occasionally lecturing him about his grades or his "open dorm room policy" as only siblings can do. He, WE, made it through our first year and eagerly anticipated the next. Then his world, and ours, came crumbling down.

Adrian woke up on the first morning of his second year of college with a sharp pain in his side. He was short of breath. 'Maybe I just need to lay down' he thought, and took a short breather on his dorm room bed. But it didn't subside. He asked a friend of his to drive him to the emergency room just in case. My mom called me that day to tell me that Adrian, A-Man as we called him, was sick. 'Maybe it was a gall bladder attack or appendicitis?' I thought. His overnight hospital visit turned into a several day stay. They wanted to take some tests to rule a few things out. It's probably nothing serious though.

I drove from my home in Seattle to see him when he came home from the hospital a few days later. I joked with him that he was a hypochondriac and I asked him if I could have his stereo system if anything happened. We laughed that day. It was nothing serious - couldn't be. It's Adrian after all. He's lead a gifted life.

Just a few short days later, Adrian was diagnosed with Hepatocellular Carcinoma, primary liver cancer. My family knew nothing about this liver cancer - why should we? It just doesn't happen to 19 year old kids. But it did. Adrian had a tumor the size of a football on his liver and we needed to do something about it. This was not going to take our baby away from us. We dove head first into researching treatment, doctors, options, trials… everything we could to lead us to our next steps. My sister led the brigade, logging countless hours on the telephone and email. I scanned the internet every day looking for articles and links and hoping that maybe I had missed something the day before. My brothers provided comedy relief. And we all called Adrian at least once a day, usually at twice. 'How are you today?' we would ask. And he would always say, 'Fine' even when he was not.

We know today that liver cancer is very difficult to treat because it is often detected at a late stage. Adrian knew that he was up for the battle of his life - and he knew what he was up against. He lived his last ten months out to the fullest and did everything he could to fight the cancer. He traveled to Seattle on two occasions to stay with me, he visited my sister Shannon in New York for several weeks, and he went with my Dad and brother Chris to the Indy 500. He traveled to Houston on two occasions for treatment at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. The trip was hard on him both mentally and physically, but he knew it was something he needed to do. He remained the Adrian that we knew - sometimes being the rock that we needed to get through this. I once asked him if he was scared. "Why should I be?" he asked me. "What happens, happens."

Of it all, his most unbelievable accomplishment was founding the Answer to Cancer Race. Adrian was not a "watch from behind the scenes" type of person. Case in point: Once, in high school, he was to be awarded the Cross Country Runner of the Year award. The whole Elkins family piled into the high school gymnasium during a pep rally (in the middle of a weekday nonetheless) to see him receive his award - a surprise to him. When they announced his name, he didn't come to the podium. Turns out that he was too busy organizing the school's canned food drive. He didn't have time for a pep rally. He had other things to do. That was Adrian.

So when he got sick, Adrian decided he wanted to do something to raise money for liver cancer research and education. He said, "I don't want other people to go through what I have." He didn't feel well, but at least if he was sitting at home, he could get his laptop out and start putting together something meaningful. In June, he laid the groundwork for the Answer to Cancer Race (as a runner it was the best way he could imagine to raise funds). When his body wouldn't allow him to get up and do the many things that needed to be done in preparation for the race, our family stepped in to keep the ball rolling. In six weeks time, the first annual Answer to Cancer Race was held, on a balmy Sunday in August. More than 240 runners and walkers participated and we raised nearly $24,000. Adrian fired the starting gun.

I believe it was Adrian's will to see that race take place. We were all there that day - our family, friends, his teammates and classmates. He got to see his goal become a reality and see everyone he loved. Many people don't experience that in their lifetime. Only eight days later he passed away.

To say that my family and I miss Adrian is an understatement. To put into words what he meant to our family is impossible. To think that he won't be at the other end of my phone call is unbearable. But with heavy hearts, we have chosen to continue his mission. With his spirit guiding us every step of the way, we have continued on with the Answer to Cancer Race, now the Answer to Cancer Foundation. We have buried ourselves in Adrian's dream of not wanting other people to through what he has. If we didn't have this, we would be lost. This is now the light that guides us through the darkness of this horrible disease.

Yes, my brothers and sisters still cry when we think of him, but we also sometimes smile. We even joke about him - as only siblings can do. That's what he would want us to do.

To learn more about the Answer to Cancer Foundation started by Adrian's siblings, go to www.answertocancer.org.