Remembering to cherish the moment...

Have you ever had a week that reminds you what is important?  That was my week.  Some really special people had some really crappy weeks.

One of the moms I know got some of the worst news you can imagine.  Her husband has been diagnosed with cancer and given 2-5 years.  They have a daughter that is just a year and a half.

One of our family members received news that he has Multiple Sclerosis.  Because of this diagnosis and because of what he does for a living, he is unclear what will happen with his career. 

The 3 year old brother of a friend's stepson is battling a very aggressive brain cancer and it is truly a battle day to day. 

Many of my pregnant friends are struggling with really tough illnesses/colds, gestational diabetes, and other health issues.

Several (very fit and active) acquaintances have been injured and not only had their fitness goals interrupted, but had life put on hold as well. 

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Sure some are clearly worse than others, but each time I heard about another situation, I grabbed my family closer and took moments to stop and appreciate everything around me. 

So I want you to stop, pull your family close and tell them how much they mean to you, take time to enjoy the moment you are in instead of bustling through your to-do list tomorrow, and say a prayer for those who are struggling right now.  They could really use the support. 

Thank you.

Remembering....

Writing this post feels like it should provide some amount of closure to the grieving process, but as I think about what to write and begin to type, I realize that my grieving will take longer.  I am learning that my body will not let me grieve all at once.  It comes out in little bits here and there, sometimes voluntarily because I am stopping to take time to think about her and other times involuntarily because something reminds me of her or we do something that I know she would have loved to do and now I don't get to share it with her.  I am learning that grieving is unique to each person and that there is no one, right way to grieve...that the amount of time, the process, and emotions associated with it can vary greatly from one person to the next. 

So this post is no longer about ending the grieving, but more about remembering the amazing person that she was and sharing with you how she changed me.  I know it is long, but please take the time to read it.  It means the world to me.   Thank you.

Mommy C

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Donna passed away on Thursday, September 16, 2010.  She had fought the cancer for almost 5 years and did so with grace and strength that I can only describe as "miraculous".   In those 5 years she rarely had a day that she didn't feel well enough to get out of the house.   She continued to travel to see family, volunteer, do lunch with friends, work in the yard, play out in the wilderness, and well...live her life.  She put a new face on what a cancer patient looks like and it was inspiring.  Her whole life was inspiring...

She was an occupational therapist when she got out of college, then she moved to the hospital's Mental Health Unit where she worked as an occupational therapist and then as the Director.  Quite honestly?  I think moving to that Mental Health Unit changed the course of the world.  So many people were touched by her work there.  I know because they came and told us so during the calling hours.  There were patients that came to give their condolences from 20 and 30 years ago.  It was easy to see the impact she had made on these people. 


She loved being outdoors. She liked to hike, paddle, bike, walk, or just sit and enjoy her surroundings. She was an amazing gardener and completed a Master Gardener program.  She used her gardening skills to help create a community garden at a Mental Health Center in her area.   The garden grew flowers, vegetables, and pride in self, others, and community.  There were so many people from the garden at the calling hours...so, so many.  It was obvious that not only did these people love the garden, but they loved Donna....oh how they loved Donna.  They told me how she taught them things.  They told me how she listened.  They told me how they now believe in themselves because of her. They were so proud of what they had accomplished in the garden with her help.


In my sister's eulogy she mentioned that when my father met Donna, our "family was not the most broken we've ever been, but we were not quite whole either."  Whether Donna realized it or not, she filled a void by becoming part of our family.  My family is a little intense.  We tend to go, go, go.  She was so calm and although she was highly productive, she knew how to stop and take in the moment.  My family did know how to do this. During the eulogy, my sister told this story:

My Dad recently told me that he hadn’t spent much time watching sunsets before Donna.  That is true.  One time, Donna and Dad came backpacking with my husband and I.  We had reached our camp for the night, and the sun was setting as Dad and I did what [our family does] best - racing around to set up camp and get dinner ready and doing a variety of things all at once.  At one point, I stopped and noticed Donna sitting in the middle of the hustle and bustle, on a camp chair, watching the sun set.  She hadn’t said a word; wasn’t critical at all of what Dad was doing.  But I stopped, and I said, “Donna, what are you doing there, while Dad is running around like crazy?”  And she laughed, and said, “I’m modeling.”

Another amazing thing about her joining our family was how seamless it all was.  Many people have step families and that union isn't so great.  It might be forced and take time to really form in a family, if you ever get there.  I didn't feel like that with Donna.  She immediately opened her heart to me.  When my sister was writing the eulogy, she asked me to send her some thoughts and I wrote about this. She incorporated many of my thoughts in this part of the eulogy (only put more eloquently): 

She gave us what she gave to many of you - a consistent, quiet, sustaining love that changed us entirely for the better. She had a way about her - and I’ve heard many of you talk about it - of making the person that she was with feel like the most special person in the room, the most heard, the most understood. She listened with her whole self, and always found a way to help me feel better. Ghandi once said that "we must be the change that we wish to see in the world." I think that Donna embodied this concept effortlessly. She was kind, gentle, emotionally honest, and so lacking in the usual nonsense that it made you realize that it was nonsense and you had no business holding on to it any longer. I heard someone say that Donna somehow could achieve things that others could not, and could reach people that others could not. I think that this principle is what allowed her to do that: she didn’t try to tear down people’s walls with the force of will; she created an environment where you didn’t feel like a wall was the least bit necessary. Ultimately, it was healing to be around her. It was especially healing for my Dad, my sister and I, and even for our mother, whom Donna welcomed with grace and with style. Donna brought love into our family, and peace into our lives, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I want to share with you one piece of Donna's obituary.  Her obituary was all written by my sister, my stepsister, and my father...except for the last part.  The last part she wrote.   She wrote this when she completed the Five Wishes with my father.

“I have lived a life more interesting, more fulfilling, more adventure-filled, than I ever dreamed possible. It has gone by much too quickly. I have been blessed with wonderful children, who are now delightful adults, a great love in [my husband], and wonderful, caring friends and family. I have been fortunate to have had good health and a career I loved. I treasure the times that I have spent with all of you and thank you for it. I treasured the times I spent with you whether it be hiking, skiing, sitting quietly over dinner, being in the garden, or meeting for lunch. I hope I have made a difference in some small way in your lives, because all of you have brought a richness to mine. I hope you remember me as someone who was happiest when out in nature or being helpful in some way. I hope you remember me with a chuckle when you can’t find your keys or glasses as I hopefully will not be looking for either in the next life. I love you all.”

Before I close, I want to share one last letter to Donna.

Donna, 

I love you.  I will remember you forever.  I will share pictures and videos of you with our son and tell him how much he was loved by you.  I will continue trying to be calm and peaceful.  I will watch sunrises and sunsets and think about you.  I will use your life to inspire me to do better by my family, my community, and those in need.  Thank you for all that you have given my family and me.  You will be missed.


Love, 


Mommy C

Cancer Sucks!

I am back from my trip and I know that I owe you all a few posts, but I need to use today's post to vent, grieve, and most importantly process.

My trip back east was broken down into sections. The first 2 weeks was with my dad and stepmom, the next 2.5 days was with my moms, grandmother, and aunt/uncle/cousin, and the final night was at my other cousin's house.  Sounds slightly dis apportioned you say?  Well about 3 months ago I was talking with my stepmom about her cancer.  She has been fighting it for 4.5 years and was talking to me about her goal to make it 3 years to her grandson's high school graduation.  Prior to this conversation I had not thought about her death at all so a 3 year goal through me off...way off.  I immediately felt like there was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off and I needed to get out there and spend as much time as I could with her.  So I chatted with my husband and he graciously agreed to letting Superman and I go for an extra 10 days (since he could only take a week off).  Turns out it was a good thing we went.

My stepmom had just finished another round of chemo the day that Superman and I got there.  It was a new chemo for her (the third new one in a couple of months) and it was an older chemo treatment which meant more side effects than usual (usually she is spends one or two days laying low and then bounces right back into the swing of things...she truly has been amazing through all of it).  This time things were a bit tougher.  She had bone pain from the medication that helps her restore her white blood cell count (which she is used to apparently and was lessened thanks to acupuncture), abdominal pain (from the tumors pushing on her intestines they think), and was more tired than normal.  She spent much of the day sleeping and only left the house to go to the doctor's and the garden she volunteers at on Fridays.  Although we made plans to go out to listen to music, eat dinner, and other things, each one needed to be canceled because she wasn't feeling up to it.  She isn't one to feel sorry for herself...she pushes through discomfort better than any person I know.  So when she says she needs to stay home, I know that she must have been feeling really bad. 

During most of my visits with them we have one big conversation about the cancer and then spend the rest of the time enjoying each other.  It was clear that things were different now because we spoke about it every day.  I spoke with my stepmom about how she was feeling, letting her talk about her fears and discomfort as much as she wanted to, when she wanted to.  I spoke to my dad about the plans they have in place, the support they have, about death, and about quality of life.  The whole visit felt different because of this...and as much as I wanted to talk to someone about it, I felt like I didn't know what to say and feared that I was just blowing things out of proportion.  Maybe this was just a bump in the road, maybe this chemo would be the one that works and I will look like the idiot that freaked out because she just needed a few more days of rest.  I called my sister at one point hoping to share with her what I was thinking about and my fears that this in fact was the beginning of the end, but didn't know really know what to say to her.  My dad had already told her that our stepmom wasn't feeling good so what more was there to say?   The whole time I felt like I could have broke into tears at any moment.  I held back though because I was afraid that if I started crying, that I wouldn't be able to stop AND there continued to be that fear (or should I say hope?) that maybe I was just blowing this out of proportion.  It wasn't like I could ask them if she was dying or not....I mean, we talked about her dying eventually...but to talk about her current state as "dying" was just too hard. 

The day before we left, my stepmom came down with a fever.  Fevers are bad when you are on chemo and so they went in to see the doctor. Her blood work came back okay...meaning that her white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets were low, but within the range of normal.  They also told her that she didn't have an infection.  When I asked her what they thought was causing the fever, her answer was, "the cancer".  It is at this point that I really realize that I do not know enough about cancer and it's impact on someone's body.  I didn't know that cancer could cause a fever and since this wasn't brought up earlier as a possibility, I worried that things were in fact as bad as they seemed.

The whole rest of the week I spent worrying about her.  I didn't get a phone call so I assumed everything was okay.  It wasn't till we arrived back in Portland that I found out that things weren't okay. 

My dad sends out email updates on my stepmom ever so often so that he doesn't have to call everyone and repeat the same information over and over.  Usually they include what they have been doing recently, how my stepmom is feeling, and the progress of the cancer and how her treatment is going.  It might seem a bit impersonal to some, but could you imagine calling 20 something people and telling them these details?  I couldn't either.   Well I received an email on Saturday. This email explained all the things they had been up to recently, including my trip there, and that my stepmom's fever and the pain came back and she was in the hospital for observation. They had also learned that the CA-125 marker (what I call her cancer #) has continued to go up significantly.  My dad explained that they would know more today so I have been anxiously awaiting the email.

So I got the email a few hours ago.  The news was not good...the doctors are stopping her chemo and she is being referred to hospice.  They have given her about 6 months.  My heart sank when I read this.  I could no longer hold back my tears and be strong...my worst fear was true.  This isn't how it is supposed to work! I have a long history of me worrying about something, thinking the worst is going to happen, and then it doesn't actually happen....I know my therapist has been trying to convince me that I can't actually control life by thinking this way and cognitively I know this to be true, but deep down I feel like I do have this power and just in case I don't, I feel like if I think about the worst case scenario and it does happen, I will somehow be more prepared to deal with it.  Thinking that this was the news I would get did not help me process this at all.  How do you deal with the reality that someone you love is going to die?  I know everyone is going to die sometime, but most of the time we don't think about it....so how do you deal with it when it is right in front of you?  You certainly can't ignore it, but dealing with it seems too painful.  My instinct was to worry about my dad...if I worried about him then I wouldn't think about how I am feeling and therefore I can push back my dealing with it for now.  The only problem is that he is my dad. He doesn't want to really talk about his feelings with his kid...he has friends and support people for that.

So instead, I decided that I would face my feelings and write about them...only problem is that I keep writing about the facts of the situation instead of really addressing my feelings.  My true feelings are big and scary and feel like too much to handle.  I think the thing that I find myself thinking about what it will be like for her.  My dad keeps telling me that no one needs to die in pain anymore and that there are plenty of drugs they can give her to keep her out of pain.  My stepmom says that her doctor told her that the type of cancer she has isn't one that typically hurts a lot as you die.  I don't want to think about the possibility of her being in any pain and that she might need a lot of medication to stay out of pain scares me.  My dad also talked to me about one of his friends.  His friend's wife died of cancer and was in a medically induced coma towards the end.  Eventually they just withheld food and water and she died within a week (based on her living will).  That is really scary to me.  I know she was in a coma, but do we know that she wasn't in pain?  I hate that feeling of being really, really hungry and the idea of dying that way haunts me. 

I am also not a particularly religious person. I suppose that faith would be helpful now, but I don't know what I would even want to believe.  Do I want to believe that there is a heaven and that is where her soul will go when she dies?  Or do I want to believe in reincarnation and that her soul will live on here on earth?  Maybe there are other options too...but the reality is that when she dies, she won't be in my life any more.  She won't be there to remind me to take things in stride and grace, to cherish each moment, and to find joy in everything I do.  She won't be there to make my dad smile and put him in his place when he needs it. :)  She won't be around to see her first grandson graduate from high school in a few years or for her other grandchildren to start school (or to be born for that matter).   I am sad that she will miss these things, but I think I am more sad that we will miss her during these events. 

So it turns out that writing about your feelings when you are doing everything to stuff them deep inside you doesn't actually work.  One of my twitter friends told me that she lost her dad to cancer and that her belief is that time doesn't heal all wounds, it just lessens the pain.  I think I want to agree with that...although she probably didn't mean that I can ignore the pain for a long time and then have it be less, did she?

If you have advice for me or want to tell your story please leave me a comment.  I would love to hear from you.

Thank you,

Mommy C