Ronnie Polaneczky: As ever, one for all and all for one

MELISSA SCHWARTZ, Jenn Metzger, Casey Ostaszewski-Edwards and Tim Marren jokingly refer to themselves as "the three musketeers and the mule they rode in on."

Casey and Tim, best buddies since kindergarten at Lawton Elementary School, started hanging out with Melissa and Jenn when they were all sophomores at Central High.

They shared Jenn's roomy, centrally located locker. Goofed their way through science lab and summer weeks in Wildwood, where they were loud enough to disturb even the partyers. Kept a silly group diary in which they logged passionate, ridiculous entries about things that, now, befuddle them.

"Apparently, we spent a lot of time at a place called Fun Zone," says Jenn, 31, chuckling. "None of us can remember what it was or where it was."

The girls - the musketeers - studied education together at Beaver College (now Arcadia), and currently teach in Philly public schools. This fall, Tim - the mule - will join them, as he begins student teaching (he's leaving his first career as a probation officer).

He already knows he'll be assigned either to A.S. Jenks in South Philly, where Melissa teaches second grade, or at Crossan in the Northeast, where Jenn teaches fifth.

"It's hard to imagine we could be any closer than we are already," says Melissa, 30, who shares a Jenkintown apartment with Jenn, as she ticks off the many joys and sorrows the gang has weathered together:

The rise and demise of various romances. Tim's new house. The death of Jenn's sister last September. Casey's wedding this past spring.

But their latest shared experience has made this foursome even tighter.

In early March, Casey, 30, was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer, an aggressive disease that rarely occurs in women younger than their 50s.

She'd known for months that something was wrong, but her doctor dismissed the redness, swelling and inverted nipple of her breast - classic symptoms of IBC - as side effects of a harmless hormonal flux.

"IBC is so unusual in my age group, I don't think anyone took me seriously," says Casey.

By the time someone did, the cancer had spread to her bones.

The deadly diagnosis came just three weeks before Casey's wedding to her longtime sweetheart, Neil Edwards, adding frightening significance to their vows about sickness and health. Casey immediately began chemotherapy, which required her to miss at least two days of work every three weeks at Robert Morris school in North Philly, where she teachers kindergartners.

Still, she got through the school year and will continue chemo until March, when her doctors will decide whether she needs a double mastectomy.

The enormity of it would overwhelm her (and some days, it does) if not for the steady presence of her husband, family and, most certainly, her "cancer posse" - Jenn, Melissa and Tim.

"I couldn't get through this without them," says Casey. "They are always there for me. They bring food. They call and text. They volunteer to go to chemo with me. They listen to me when I'm scared."

But, truly, after all these years, what else would they do?

"We're not 'like' family," says Tim, 31, who, growing up with his parents and brother, lived across the street from Casey and considers the musketeers his sisters. "We are family."

Maybe my age is catching up with me. Or maybe it's that my own family has just come through a rough year of cancer treatment with my sister, whose disease had also spread by the time it was diagnosed (blessedly, she is doing well).

But the loving and enduring intensity of the musketeers-and-mule friendship - and the intensity of what they're currently enduring - touches me deeply. It reminds me of the best gift we can give to those faced with situations beyond their control:

We can bear witness to them. We can huddle with arms entwined, cry in unison, make each other laugh, roast a family's meal, rub backs and feet, sit quietly while the other naps.

What we do doesn't matter so much as the fact that we're doing it. And I believe it helps us all enter a state of grace - a place made more wonderful when populated by those who've borne witness to our lives for so long, it's almost impossible to recall a time when they didn't.

Tomorrow night, Jenn, Melissa and Tim will celebrate their friendship with Casey by hosting a beef-and-beer fundraiser for her, to help cover costs she and her husband will incur as she wages the fight of her life.

They expect a good crowd - family, neighbors, even childhood pals whom Casey hasn't seen in decades.

As they've done for so many years, the three musketeers and the mule they rode in on will bear witness to where they've been, where they're at and where they're headed.

Together. As usual.

Casey's fundraiser will be from 7 to 11 p.m. tomorrow at Polonia Hall, 4431 Belgrade St. Tickets are $30 for those 21 and older; $20, under 21.

E-mail polaner@phillynews.com or call 215-854-2217. For recent columns:

http://go.philly.com/polaneczky. Read Ronnie's blog at http://go.philly.com/ronnieblog.