Roses rambling

I realize that the memories that I have been recording are not sequential.

That’s the way memories occur. They will pop into my mind as incidents or

chapters but not necessarily in a progressive time frame. I feel the urgency

to get them recorded because I can feel my memory becoming less sharp and

I know eventually, as I age , they will lose some of their clarity and I may never

be able to retrieve some of them from the recesses of my brain. The major

fear that I have is Alzheimers (check spelling), though there is no history in

my family of it. I think this disease that robs our elderly of their most

precious faculties is one of the most tragic things that can happen to anyone.

Nevertheless, that is just one reason for the urgency I feel to record memories.

My daughter can edit, correct, and arrange my random ramblings after I go.

You notice that I refrained from saying DIE, which is of course my greatest

fear, and one we all must face.

I came face to face with that demon DEATH over sixteen years ago.

(I can say that word easier than I can say the big C word, even now that I

have survived that demon for this long.)   I had not been well for some

time, though I delayed doctors visits, and attributed my malaise to the

early onset of menopause . I brushed aside the alarming symptoms, with

the rationale that it was just another phase of life that had to be endured.

My daughter finally persuaded me to make an appointment in a

neighboring city and even took off from work to accompany me.  I am

thankful that the malignancy was discovered fairly early , thanks to her

persistence. I was in complete denial, so the news was extremely shocking

to me. I’m ashamed to say that I really lost control on our way home, and

wailed and moaned as if I had received a death sentence. Ordinarily, I

would have tried to shield my daughter from such a lack of faith and

courage, but at this moment our roles reversed and she became my rock.

She encouraged, she counseled, she consoled and yes, she cried with me.

Somehow, we survived the hour and half drive home. The shock was soon

replaced with a numbness and an uncustomary acceptance on my part.

My daughter took charge, in the days to come, making appointments

with specialists at a cancer center affiliated with the University that she

had attended. It required a three-hour drive for us but was noted for

oncology and treatment. After further testing there, I was scheduled for

surgery on October 31st. (Halloween!)

I am not going to elaborate on all the medical details , just that I

did what I was told to do, while all the time in a befogged state of mind.............

The whole experience took on a surreal quality and it seemed to me that

I detached myself from my body which I felt had betrayed me and I could

observe the procedures as if I was present with a friend. I cannot explain

my detachment, but at the time it served a purpose to distance me from

what I considered to be my own demise. The evening of the surgery, the

nurses had been given permission to dress up in costume. Most of them

looked adorable, in outfits portraying "Little Bo Peep," Cinderella, or

Peter Pan, to name a few. Just cutesy. However, one young student nurse,

at a loss for a costume, decided to wrap her entire body in bandaging. When

I opened my eyes following surgery, in the recovery room, I came face to face

with "THE MUMMY"!  I could have, probably should have, been traumatized

by this spectacle but, due to the medications perhaps or my detached attitude,

I could have cared less. That little nurse was raked over the coals royally, when

her superior discovered her thoughtless choice of costume. I thought it was

kinda cute, myself, and it did not dawn on me until later that I could have been

unduly alarmed. I don’t know if she got a better reaction from other patients

than I , but her Halloween prank sure fizzled out on me.

       In November, I returned home with the surgeons assurance that he felt

sure that he "had got it all" and began the road to recovery. After six weeks,

I was to return for more tests to ascertain whether the malignancies might have

spread to nearby areas. I had already begun a self-help program to bolster my

my own lagging faith. I had been a Christian for many years and I felt like I

had a good life. So much so that I was desperate to preserve it. Happening

at a low point, I needed to reinforce my own faith in God. I asked for and

needed the prayers and encouragement of all my friends and family. My mother

and father were very devout and ministered faithfully to me. I was experiencing

a physical depression that I had to combat not only with anxiety medication, but

also with every thing else I could command. The most helpful tool was Praise and Worship

music that I played constantly.  I felt that I needed to return to work as soon as

possible in order to prevent having so much time alone to dwell on thoughts of

dying.  My employer, bless their hearts, was going to place me in a less stressful

and less physically demanding job for a period of recovery time. But first, I had

to get the all clear from the six-week checkup before I returned to work.

The trips back and forth to the hospital provided some good quality time

with my son, daughter, and husband who alternated in driving me back and forth.

We reminisced about our years as a family, planned for the future and they shared

hopes and dreams with me as never before. We had always been a close-knit

family but during this time bonded to an amazing extent. I suppose one can find

something good to say about anything, even cancer, and I think we developed such

an appreciation for our ordinary lives during that time. We appreciated more the

things previously taken for granted and cherished each other and each moment.

While doing "one day at a time", we were acutely aware how precious each one was.

Traveling the three hours to the University hospital, we saw all the houses

decorated for Christmas and were aware of the approaching holidays. Thanksgiving

had passed with us truly counting our blessings,  but I had fretted a little about not

being able to decorate and shop. My husband , the Macho man whose hero was

John Wayne, had always left such things to the female members of the family. He

would casually remark that Christmas was too commercial now and even insinuated

that lights and decorations were frivilous. A shadow had been cast over the holidays

years earlier when a beloved cousin,  who had just decorated her home for Christmas,

was swept away in a flash flood. She had fallen from a bridge into the raging stream.

She was pregnant and a friend who tried to rescue her had also drowned. Her husbands

grandmother, hearing the news suffered a fatal heart attack. The Christmas lights

burning brightly during a triple funeral seemed a mockery at the time. After that

time, my family did not emphasize outdoor decorations, even though we enjoyed

other people decorating.  Somehow, now at this traumatic time, I missed that and

may have remarked wistfully that I wish we had continued the tradition that she

had loved so much.

       My daughter drove me down for the big testing and the doctors were well-

pleased with the surgery and found no signs of the cancer anywhere else. We

were filled with relief on the way home and even the dreary weather could not

dampen our spirits. It was getting quite late as we drove back. Many of the

homes had turned off their holiday lights and even house lights so we were

approaching my little town in tired silence, anticipating a warm bath and bed.

I love my little town, but actually they pull in the streets at nine o’clock, so to

speak, and we entered Main Street, and then our street without meeting a car.

We passed the darkened houses on our street and rounded the curve as we

approached our house.

     Then we saw my house. Even at that distance, the light fairly radiated

from it, like a beacon in the night. My dear home was ablaze in the glory

of thousands of multi-colored lights. Seemingly, every square inch was

covered along with the trees and shrubbery lining the long driveway. Our

eyes nearly popped out of our head seeing the unaccustomed splendor. The

deck was festooned with ribbons , greenery  and animated figures. When we

got out of the car, we were met by my  husband and son who had worked so

hard to create this spectacle for our return. Apparently, after hearing the

good test results when I called earlier, they had gone out and purchased all

the festive decorations and worked way into the night to provide our

joyous home-coming.

I will never forget that sight . I will never forget the love I felt

surrounding our family like an aura. The thoughtful act lasted long after

the holidays, which we celebrated joyfully. I wanted the beautiful

lights left up till Valentine’s Day, and when family visited I had to have them

turned on. One strand was left that spring high in the Colorado Spruce tree

we had planted when we moved there. Sixteen years later it is now very

high in the tall tree, but if I get to feeling blue, I can still peer closely up in

to the dense branches and see the faded red , blue, green and yellow bulbs.

It never fails to lift my spirits because it brings to mind the unselfish act

that my husband and son performed on a cold December day years ago

to demonstrate their love and gratitude for God’s many blessings.

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• #6 Comment from cvgflydis 
  5/5/08 7:32 AM | Permalink

  My Mom had her "c" surgery on Halloween as well. How ironic!
  
  The story was sweet. And a reminder, to go on, despite how we feel sometimes.
  
  I'm glad you have recovered from the "c" word. A true blessing!
  
  Angel
• #5 Comment from helmswondermom 
  5/3/08 9:19 PM | Permalink

  I'm so glad you recovered from that illness 16 years ago.  Thank you for sharing that memory with us!
  Lori
  http://journals.aol.com/helmswondermom/DustyPages/
• #4 Comment from lv2trnscrb 
  5/1/08 11:40 PM | Permalink

  what a wonderful story of the love of your husband and son to do this for you; so glad you had a great outcome from your treatment for cancer; I think it is in trying times like this we deepen our faith in God; I think that's why he allows them so that we learn to walk by faith and trust
  
  betty
• #3 Comment from rdautumnsage 
  5/1/08 7:34 PM | Permalink

  I know all too well that fear...I was lucky though, I still have a small lump but the dr. feels at this time it's not a threat and we keep an eye on it...And yes, I get tested faithfully. Your such a strong, compassionate woman to have lived and survived the "C" word.
  
  I cried at the beauty and thoughtfulness of your husband and son. Life is meant to be celebrated always. One of the sad moments for me is losing Doc's mom before Christmas, she had made arrangements for me to come and put her Christmas tree up for her last year. Unfortunately she went in the hospital before Thanksgiving and never came home again. This year there will be two trees up in my home in honor of this very special woman. (Hugs) Indigo
  http://journals.aol.com/rdautumnsage/ravens-lament/
• #2 Comment from astoriasand 
  5/1/08 2:10 PM | Permalink

  Aww I cried at your story.How brave you have been.I lost my Dear Father to the big C .I nursed him seven yrs and how he fought.I pray all will go well for you in the future and know you have a family to be proud of.They have a wife and Mum to be proud of too.How lovely they lit up everything for you.In my prayers always.Take Care God Bless Kath astoriasand http://journals.aol.co.uk/astoriasand/MYSIMPLERHYMES