Photo taken January 24th, 1981July 30th, 1990 you left us on a warm summer's evening after a two year courageous battle with Lymphoma. I sat on one side of your bed while Mom sat on the other side.. We both held your hand as you struggled with each and every breath you took. There was one light over your bed and the room was silent as the other family members had just left the room to congregate outside. For two weeks we all kept this daily vigil as we watched you silently slip into unconsciousness.
July 5th, 1990 you celebrated your last birthday with us. That day I came to your apartment and made you tomato soup with crackers but after one spoonful you sat at the table unable to eat. I made you a cup of tea but you were unable to drink it. I then helped you to bed. You were so weak and sick. My heart bled for you. I wished I could have made you more comfortable. After I placed Grandpop's sweater over you (you wore his sweater daily since his death in 1980 because it gave you comfort) I returned to your dining room and noticed your birthday cake sat upon the table. It was decorated in red, white and blue. It was a tradition with Uncle Frank and Aunt Ann. They gave you a cake decorated like this every year because your birthday fell on the day after 4th of July. You loved those cakes.
I will never forget that day in May of 1990 when we went shopping and then out to lunch together. You were feeling a little weak and while we ate our lunch you told me you had "this" cough at night. I asked you if you called your doctor. You told me you did not but you had a CAT scan in March and everything was fine. I suggested you call your doctor and have him look at you. During our lunch, you spoke alot about your past and your family. This was long before I had an interest in researching our family's history but I paid attention to everything you told me and I am glad I did because though I did not know it then the information you provided me was my stepping stone to research.
ONE WEEK LATER, you, me and my mother sat across from the doctor as he told us that your cancer has returned. Immediately, you began another round of Chemo but this time it did not work. I will never forget the private conversation my mother and I had with the doctor after he told us the cancer returned and now was located in the pleural space of your left lung. He said, we had the chance to have those two years with you. But since you were no longer in remission your cancer was no longer curable but treatable. However, Non-Hogkins Lymphoma was a difficult cancer to treat.
You entered the hospital for the last time two weeks before you died. You were so weak the doctor got a wheelchair and pushed you from his office to the hospital next door. Uncle Jack was told to come home because we were told things did not look good. Everyday and everynight, your family came and stayed with you. You were never left alone. My mother slept in the waiting room down the hall afraid to leave you even for a single moment. Then you saw things. Things that could not be explained. Things that were chilling.
One afternoon, you pointed to area above your head and said "Look at that bright light". "The light is so bright". We could not see this light but you, grandmom could see it clearly. Then you said, "Oh Nanna, I see Nanna". Nanna was what we called Aunt Anna, grandpop's sister who died a few years earlier. Aunt Nanna and you, grandmom were good friends. Before long, you called for Daddy. You could see him in the light with Aunt Anna. Daddy was your name for grandpop.
Some said it was the drugs you were given. Some said it was Aunt Anna and Grandpop waiting to take you to heaven. I believe the latter. One week later you died.
You were laid out in the church up at the alter. You looked like an angel. Though you suffered before your death, you were beautiful. I believe the angels even cried that day. You were interred with grandpop that same day, the only man you ever loved.
Remember grandmom, how you would always tell me that you kissed the ground I walked on. Well, little did you know, it was I who kissed the ground you walked on.
A poem I came across the other day.
God said you were getting tired and a cure was not to be; so he put his arms around you and whispered, come to me, With tearful eyes we watched you, and saw you pass away. Although we love you dearly. A golden heart stopped beating, hard-working hands at rest, God broke our hearts to prove to us, He only takes the best.
Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma
Thirty years ago no one survived Non-Hodgkin lymphoma, a cancer involving the body's lymph system. Today fifty percent of those diagnosed with this cancer survive because of the latest treatments available. Most people who relapse from this disease do so in the first two years.
1 comment:
My biological mother survived Non-Hogkins Lymphoma, and died four years later of a blood clot, totally unrelated to the cancer. We did a "Light the Night" walk to raise money for the Luekemia/Lymphoma Society. In the pictures of the event, her hair had not grown back yet. She was too weak from the chemo to walk, but she sat and watched us walk. It was a beautiful night. I'll always remember it as one of our good times.
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