on daily updates from my mom as to how she was doing and how her treatments were going. My pregnancy was going great but unfortunately Mamie’s health was doing the exact opposite.
By August she had been back and forth so many times between her home and the hospital that the decision was made for her to go to a live-in facility. By this time she was having difficulty speaking but she made it through each day. My mom spent every day with her, from when she was in the hospital to the live-in facility. My mom is the reason Mamie made it through each day. She didn’t have time to worry about herself – she spent her days worried about me, her only child who was going to have a baby, and her own Mother.
Mamie’s health took a turn for the worst in September. The few times she was able to speak, she would ask to “go home”. She had always been rather skinny and looked frail, but now she looked like she could break if anyone spoke too loudly and their breath reached her. In her last days, her nurses told my mom that it would be safe for me to come visit her and spend some time with her.
The first visit to see her in the live-in facility felt like a dream. I tried to prepare myself with what to expect and remind myself to ignore the machines that would be in her room. As soon as I got in the room, all I could think about was Mamie. I wanted to take her pain away and make her healthy again. I was mad at the cancer for taking so much from Mamie and our whole family.
Once Mamie’s health started declining, it deteriorated quickly and my mom began difficult discussions with the doctors about what we should do. Mamie did not want to have machines keeping her alive, which was the way things were at this point. The decision was made to turn off the machines and let her finally “go home”.
October 12, 2009, my family and I gathered in her small hospital room; my mom, my dad, my husband, 3 of my aunts, and one of my uncles. The nurse came in and turned off Mamie’s ventilator. My heart hoped that she would start breathing on her own. My mind prayed that this was all a dream and that I would wake up in my comfy bed. I stood next to Mamie’s bedside, fighting back tears and holding her hand, as she took her last breaths. The days that followed were surreal but despite the pain we felt in our hearts, we had a baby to still prepare for.
On November 19th, 2009 Christopher Michael was born into this world. He was a feisty little baby from the start; just like his Great-Mamie. We knew from the moment he was born that Mamie passed away before he was born for a reason. Christopher was born with little birthmark on his left ear, as if Mamie had kissed him good-bye before sending him to us. She may have passed away but she is with us every day; in memory, in spirit, in Christopher.
Erika lives in Crafton, PA with her husband, Adam, and their almost 2-year-old son, Christopher. She works full-time in finance and loves spending time with her family, crafting, sewing, watching/playing sports and volunteering. You can reach her at: [email protected]
A Sprinkle of FUN from the Author…
Martha’s Way or My Way…
Martha’s Way: When a cake recipe calls for flouring the baking pan, use a bit of the dry cake mix instead and there won’t be any white mess on the outside of the cake.
My Way: Go to the bakery. They’ll even decorate it for you.
Imagine
Christine Allen
There I was, standing in front of a whole group of women, their faces smiling at me and there was pink everywhere. I was telling my story at the State conference of the PA Breast Cancer Coalition. That is something I could have never imagined…
Imagine holding a “secret” inside of you for over 31 years. Imagine that “secret” is something that almost everyone talks about these days, but you were forbidden to even breathe the words. For me, that “secret” was that I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
It was a very different time in 1975. I worked for the local school district as a cook from 1965 until 1993. When I was diagnosed in 1975 with breast cancer, I did not dare breathe a word to anyone that I had breast cancer. At that time, many people thought it was highly contagious and was even compared to people with AIDS. People thought that you could “spread” cancer by touching someone. If I had told anyone, it would have certainly meant the end to my job, and as a single mother of three beautiful children, I could not risk being unemployed. In fact, the word cancer was rarely spoken, but it was referred to as the “Big C”.
Fortunately, if you can say that, I had problems with my back, so when I had to be off for cancer surgery and recovery, I just told people it was because of my back problems. I didn’t really get sick, my recovery was fairly good, and that was a good thing. My doctor was the only one who knew what was really happening.
I found the lump while I was doing an exam in the shower. It was a tiny, tiny little thing, about the size of a pin head. When I had it checked, they tried to aspirate it but they couldn’t get anything. The doctor tried again, and when he gave me the results, he didn’t even sit down. He came into the room and just said, Christine, it is cancer”, and he walked out of the room! I was in a complete daze and didn’t know which way to turn or what to do.
As fate would have it, I had JUST read a story about a doctor, Dr. Carl Mansfield, who was the first black man to head up the Radiology Dept. at Thomas Jefferson Hospital. I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I walked right over to that hospital to the Radiology department and asked if I could see him! The nurse went to get him and he came out to see me! Imagine that! Dr. Mansfield said he wasn’t able to help me, but he would get a doctor who could help. That doctor turned me over to another doctor, a female doctor, and I was finally with a doctor who cared about me as a patient – the whole me, not just the cancer.
Although I didn’t say a word to anyone, I started talking to a lot of women that I knew who had breast cancer. ALL, yes every one of them told me that they lost their breast, or both breasts during their surgery, and they didn’t know until they woke up in the recovery room. My doctor was a female and just out of medical school a couple of years. When I mentioned this to her, she said that she didn’t do it this way. She believed at the time that a lot of doctors just didn’t care about the after affects of a breast removal – they just did it. The word I remember her using was “radical”. She said there was a new procedure that she used and IF they had to take my breast, she would wake me up before she did it. As it turned out, the cancer was small, stage 1, and I was able to keep my breast.
I was off work for just a couple of weeks. After the surgery, I went to the library and read everything I could find about chemotherapy and radiation. At that time there was very little that a person could find that was in language that a regular person could understand. Certainly nothing like what is available to people today.
I attended every seminar I could find where they were talking about cancer and it seemed like the idea of your health and your diet came out in a lot of them. My doctor told me once that we are all born with cells that could lead to cancer, it was just the choice of cells which way they went and whether they became cancer.
I was always interested in alternative medicines so I went to a little store on Green Street in Philadelphia, PA, called Penn Herbs and met with Lonzo. Penn Herbs is still there in Philadelphia!! He talked to me at great length and made up a variety of herbs, drops, teas, and pills for me to take. He told me to go to the doctor and listen to everything they told me, then tell him and he would duplicate what I needed.
You can believe what you like, but for me, I know without a doubt that I was healed because I believe in two things – prayer and Jesus!
