Goodnight Sweet Friend.

It has been a long time since I have blogged. Though I have had nearly 2 weeks to deal with this, I am still at a loss and become nauseated each time I think of it.

My dear mentor, friend and physician Kate died from a recurrence of cervical cancer (sarcoma) on Monday, November 9, 2009. She was 54.

Maybe one day I will post her real name, she is one who affected not just those in her family and community, but society as a whole. I am better for having known her.

The Thief Strikes Again.

Cancer is about to claim yet another of my those I love. Somehow, after agonal breathing and death seemingly within the hour, my friend whom I wrote about below rallied and has clung to life for 24 additional hours. The family is all there and she has told everyone that she loves them. Perhaps I should back up. Almost 2 weeks ago, she was released from the hospital into the care of hospice because there was nothing more they could do. "Hug a lot, eat and drink anything you want, and get your affairs in order" were the instructions. Hubby and I immediately made plans to travel to San Antonio. We left a few days later. We were down there for a week during which I was able to spend some time with her and say my goodbyes. (Though not in those words.) I thanked her for what she had done for me over the 20 years we have know one another and most of all what she has meant to me. She gave both my husband and I each a pink stone to carry in our pockets think of her and offer a prayer. We all knew that it was to serve a longer purpose. I am so grateful for that time that I had with her. I am so grateful that my wonderfully supportive husband went with me. "Death is a part of the gig" as another cancer survivor friend of mine said recently. It most certainly is. We get the good...and we must bear the end of it. Cancer is a horrible end. A horrible, horrible end.

She has meant so much to me. I always was able to go to her with anything. She was more my mother than my own. I will miss her. Many, many people will. I will never be able to think of so many things without associating them with her. I will carry the rock that she placed in my hand with her own, now weak and somewhat disfigured by the disease that will soon take her, and I will remember all the good. Unfortunately, I have cancer to blame for this one too.

I do have happy things to write about and I will in another post. - My husband and I have decided to try start a family. I have a few challenges to overcome, before we can "get things going" but things are going well. Very well. - For now, please offer a prayer for a smooth transition for my dear friend. I have been. Death is coming...it's already been bad enough.

We returned today from vacation. While it was a wonderfully relaxing and very special time, I strained to keep Kate off of my mind. I felt selfish doing that. I decided to make a special "care package" of sorts for her so it changed the mood from sad to excited. I called a friend of mine this evening who was diagnosed with breast cancer 4 years ago, endured a double mastectomy, the cancer metastasized, and today the tumors are inactive. I wanted to call and see how she was doing and get her input about items to put into my little pack of love for Kate. She was overwhelmingly helpful with so many different questions I had. What was the "right" thing to do? What was the "wrong" thing to do? Tomorrow, I am heading out to buy some cute PJs, some Werther's Original candies, lemon drops, and Gatorade. Apparently, Werther's are a great thing for stimulating saliva and are one of the few things that my friend was still able to taste while she was undergoing chemo.

I also got word while we were on vacation that a woman, Judy*, that I have known for more than 20 years was found dead on Sunday. Her parents have always been very close friends of my parents until her father suddenly passed away 5 years ago. Her mother remains very tight with my parents. Judy's life was a tragic one. Adopted into an extremely loving home when she was very young (if not an infant), Judy was an only child. Her father doted on her mercilessly. She was rebellious and became pregnant well before we were 20. She went on to 4 children with 4 different fathers. She married a man that turned out to be heavily into drugs. There was already suspicion that she was using, so her choice of partners was not a surprise. Her father called her one day from his car saying that he felt weird. He then died from a stroke on the side of the road. The following year, she awoke to find her husband dead in bed beside her. She died Sunday in much the same way. Two of her children had been put up for adoption as infants, but she leaves behind 2 young boys to be raised by their grandmother who has lost her husband, daughter and son-in-law in a matter of 5 years.

It was a situation in which you could see what was wrong, but despite everyone's best efforts nothing changed. I need to send her mom a card tomorrow. What do you say??? I first met Judy in the 6th grade so I can't claim that I didn't know her. What the heck does something say at a time like this?

*not real name

My homework is here but my mind is elsewhere

I am trying to study. It is Friday night and I am not in the mood but I know I need to do it. Usually, I fall into a rhythm and I really don't want to stop. For a brief moment, I enjoy math. Tonight is not one of those cases. I am learning completely new material and my mind is not on it. I am trying, but something else consumes me. I was speaking with my mentor earlier today and suddenly she stopped. "Dr. Underdog, we need to change gears for just a second," she said. I sat there confused. She told me bluntly that she was going to have a hysterectomy and would be out of commission for about 4 weeks. I asked if she was OK. "Yeah...well, I will be." She told me about how she had asked about having liposuction performed at the same time but that, due to mass loss it was not going to happen. She joked about asking for a face lift as an alternative. We discussed how much weight she would lose as a result of the removal of the organs and she was surprised. I knew the numbers because my mother had the surgery done when I was in junior high. We joked on. She mentioned that "they" told her she had to have it done. In other words, this is not an elective procedure. I gathered that by her initial response: "I will be." She said that she would be available via phone and email until she is back on her feet... "You know how I deal with being down," she remarked.

I didn't press the subject very hard. I felt that she told me more than she needed to and I was grateful. But, it is obvious that this is not a benign situation and that is what has my mind right now. If it weren't for her, I would never be on this path in the first place. I would have remained a dreamer and not a doer. I would still be wondering what could have been and not looking forward to applying to medical school next year. I would still not be able to read. I would not be... a lot of good things.

This week was already one of thinking as I received an email from my dad that a man that had meant a lot to me growing up had died. Sonny was the husband of my youth minister, Mary Jayne, when I was in high school. I was extremely active in my church and spent a lot of time with them at various things and have great memories of times at their lake house where they eventually moved. Later, in my early 20s, I converted out of the Catholic church and married a Methodist minister. My parents had already made it clear to me that they were not happy about my conversion. Sonny had returned to seminary and became a deacon in the Catholic church, the highest position allowed to a married man. Unfortunately, our last encounter was not a good one. I was in Mary Jayne's office in my late 20s and Sonny walked down the hall. He saw me and walked right by. All he had to say (not even to me, but about me) was "Don't get near her, she will convert you." I laughed it off and tried to hug him, but he practically ran from me. It hurt. One of these days I will write about the hatefulness of those within the church and the pain of being a pastor's wife. But, for now, the world lost a great guy. Despite the way he treated me that day. Sonny died on June 8. While driving, he pulled over to the side of the road and had a heart attack. Sonny's picture (obviously in deacon robes) is the picture at the top of this post.

Whatever the underlying situation with my mentor, I pray that she is not lost. Call me selfish. Perhaps that is why math is the last thing on my mind.