Hope In The Midst

In the space of three weeks, a friend and neighbor died of ovarian cancer; a sweet former co-worker and friend lost her battle with breast cancer; and my aunt died after suffering for years with rheumatoid arthritis.

I sent Clint over to the neighbors' with home cooked food and home made cards from the girls. Clint would call to check in, see if they needed anything. They were battened down for the storm, but it was good to come up every once in a while for air. Then we learned that her cancer had spread; she had come home with the understanding that further treatment would only prolong her life by months. She died within two weeks.

Another friend and former coworker had been battling breast cancer for years. I had sent her meals and desserts, prayed for her, got lots of updates from mutual friends and thought she was handling this thing. Then I found her obituary in the newspaper.

It just didn't seem real.

All this was going on as I spoke almost daily to my mother, who was then finishing her second, and beginning her third chemotherapy treatment for breast cancer. My mom has such a positive outlook, such a faith that all will be well, that I couldn't tell her about my two friends; it might have set her back. My mom's dealt with nausea, loss of hair and appetite, weakness, going from insomnia to hardly being able to stay awake for days on end. She's had shots to combat low white blood cell count, and fluid injection to remedy mild dehydration. She's taken pills to battle constipation only to turn around and deal with bouts of diarrhea. It's been a constant struggle to feel normal, to feel like eating, or sleeping, or waking up, talking. And yet she's had the most positive attitude about it all.

"Three down, one to go," she said after the last treatment. "Next week I'll start feeling like eating again."

She'd lost 7 lbs in one week. How can I do anything but listen and cheer her on? I can't even think about what these women have been suffering. My mom has shown me such strength and grace. I couldn't possibly have a better role model, a real hero.

She was sad that she couldn't travel to Florida for my aunt's funeral, or to Pittsburgh three weeks later for the memorial service.

"I'm sure they'll understand your reasons, Mom," I told her. "I"ll give them your condolences."

I think a lot about my aunt, and about my cousins and their grief. I remember all those family reunions growing up, and visits to their house, about her infectious laugh. I remember Aunt Ginny and Uncle Joe at our wedding, and when she and my cousin came to visit after Maisey was born.

It still doesn't seem real.

My mom and I talk about her plans for the spring--home projects, gardening projects. She wants a riding mower so she can cut her own grass, take care of her own yard. It seems as good as any goal to achieve.

"Make your plans Mom; be ready. Spring will be here before you know it."