ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, March 20, 1996 TAG: 9603200070
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: STERLING, VA. (AP)
SOURCE: PETER FINN THE WASHINGTON POST
WITH LESS THAN A YEAR to live, a mom and dad try to cope with two fatal diseases that will take them from their children.
The despair in Eduardo Belandres' voice is a faint tremble, swaddled in his determined invocation of God. ``It is His will,'' he says, quietly, his stooped body wracked by the sickness that is killing him.
Belandres, 43, sits by the bed in the living room of the Sterling town house where his wife, Lolita, 46, lies, a white turban covering the effects of the chemotherapy, her thick brown hair gone, her skin pulled tightly over her frame. Belandres lifts her frail arm and kisses her hand. He licks his finger, leans forward, and glosses the wetness on his wife's parched lips.
The Belandres, Filipino immigrants with four children, are dying together. In a cruel and rare coincidence, each has been struck by a different but terminal cancer. They were told, within a month of each other late last year, that they had six to 12 months to live.
``We have four children,'' said Lolita Belandres, glancing at the crucifix near her bed. ``I pray, `Please give us our lives, please give us one life,' so that one of us is here to guide our children.''
Both are extremely weak and spend much of their day resting. They savor, in tiny smiles, the joy of watching their children. All four, ages 8 to 17, know their parents are dying. Candice, 8, flutters through the house, playful, giggling, but in moments she is caught short by the sight of her mother. Sullen and angry, Christian, 17, cannot bear to see his parents suffer and often flees the house to hang out with friends.
For the Belandres, the promise of parenthood, the love it was built on, is compressed into knowing - in a stroke of their daughter's hair, in a word of caution to Christian about his falling grades - how much life and growing they will forfeit.
``Our kids are so precious,'' Eduardo Belandres said. ``We have spoken to them often about God's plan, how we hope they will have good lives. But it is very hard. We love them so much.''
The family clings to the power of prayer. Deeply religious, they try to find solace in their Roman Catholic faith.
``It's just horrible,'' said Neeta Ahuja, a Kaiser Permanente oncologist who is treating the couple. ``Both of them are dying. This is the first couple I have treated simultaneously. Sometimes you see a husband and wife who have cancer 10 or 15 years apart, but ... this is really rare.''
The physician said there is no common link between the cancers.
Cancer appeared as a small painless lump under Lolita Belandres' jaw. Her illness was diagnosed in November 1994 as nasal pharyngeal cancer, a tumor in the throat. She had surgery and underwent radiation and chemotherapy treatment. By last April, she was able to return to work as a medical assistant at Kaiser Permanente.
But in November, troubled by increasing pain in her back, she underwent more tests. Doctors discovered that the cancer had spread to her spine and bones.
``I was ready,'' she said. ``Whatever God's will, I will accept it.'' She also consoled herself with the knowledge that her husband had a good job with the U.S. Postal Service and that the life the family had been building could continue without her.
Eduardo Belandres, a smoker, began to experience pain in his chest and back shortly after starting work at the Dulles General Mail Facility. He thought it was caused by working long hours and worrying about his wife.
When she was told that her cancer had reappeared and spread, his own pain had become acute. The oncologist suggested she run some tests. That was how the couple learned that Eduardo Belandres, too, was dying.
The couple's greatest fear is for their children. They are happy that his sister will keep them together. But it is clear that the specter of death, and their parents' deterioration, is terrifying all four siblings.
``They have come to me at different times to ask their questions,'' he said. ``Lance said to me, `Daddy, if you die, are you still going to look after me?' Candice said, `Daddy, please don't go away, please stay.'''
Belandres clutches his white rosary beads, turning them over in his hand, his eyes fixed on the attached crucifix.
``When they say that,'' he said, ``I have to hide my tears.''
LENGTH: Medium: 82 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: AP. Christian Belandres hugs his mother, Lolita, who isby CNBdying from a form of throat cancer.