Wednesday, February 27, 2013


I have a friend named Besouro da Folha. He was one of the first people I met when I moved to Rochester. At first I thought he was a little odd, but after a few weeks, I could tell he’s one of the kindest, bluntest, strongest people I know. Besouro is in peak physical condition. He studied to be a trainer, and I’m pretty sure he’s got a few certifications under his belt. If he doesn’t, it’s because the exam makers were jealous of him exceeding every test they could throw at him. He’s a passionate animal lover. He hardly drinks. He is a vegan. He survived my telling of The Worst Joke Ever®. Of all the people in Rochester that I met, Besouro HAD to be the most physically and mentally fit. So much so, that in our circle of friends, we decided that during the robot uprising, we would harvest Besouro for meat when our food supplies run out. That is much we love Besouro. We would f***ing eat him.

Well, Besouro was diagnosed with leukemia last year. Of all the people, Besouro. I was dumbfounded. Friends jumped into action. One started a Fundly account ( Another few had fund raising rodas (Google it, non-capoeiristas) to send to him for his medical bills. His brother and I put on a party with a raffle and performers to get capital for his treatments. He has gone through a few treatments of chemo, weeks and weeks in the hospital. They tried bone marrow matches, but it is very hard to find a match. I would give my entire leg if I knew it would help (by the way, offer is still out there). There has been a myriad of well wishes for Besouro from all over the world. Everyone is pushing for Besouro to beat this cancer.

One day last week, I read Besouro’s blog, and after reading his latest entry, I learned a sad fact: the fucking leukemia has not remissed. He’s going through more chemo as I type this. Everyone hopes that the next steps his doctor makes will be steps toward finally beating this disease that afflicted the most undeserving person I know. It hit me that no matter how many well wishes, he might not make it.

I’ve lost friends and family before, some to auto accidents, some to violence. I actually held a stranger in my arms as I watched her gurgle her last breath. Not one of these nearly disturbed me as much as losing a close friend who is like family who is younger and more active than me to an illness. I hide it well, but as positive as I try to be, I can’t shake this thought. He’s in treatment again. I hope that this is the one that kills the killer. I hope this time, he gets out of the hospital and revisits his doctor to hear good news. I hope all the well wishes weren’t for naught. I hope everything goes back to us joking about the robot apocalypse again. I hope that this pit-burning emotion I have will be proven silly and pointless. Because right now, I feel selfish for wanting my friend to live beyond me, of only to make my well wishes to him come true.

Stay strong, Besouro. The rest of you, help him:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Disqus for The Chronicles of Nonsense