It's funny the things we keep.
Last year, when my mother died and her house sold, we had to clean it out. During our excavation (Mom was a bit of a hoarder) my son-in-law found her medical records. For no known reason, I wanted them. I couldn't bear to part with them. Several weeks passed before I screwed up the nerve to look through them. On paper, thin and delicate as old lace, her breast cancer odyssey unfolded. There it all was. From the lumps, first diagnosed as Fibrosis, to the radical mastectomy. She was 32. I read every word. I'm pretty sure I held my breath the whole time. Even now, I can't glance at the non-descript brown folder without a lump gathering at the back of my throat. Because reading through her medical journey, I couldn't help but see her as someone other than my mother - a real person. A 32 year-old female caucasian housewife to be exact. I thought of her, alone and frightened in a cold exam room. My dad wouldn't have been with her - he wasn't the type. In his defense, this was the early 60's and men stayed out of their wives doctor's offices in those days. I tried to imagine what she might've been feeling and thinking. My mother was not one to identify or talk about her feelings, but it didn't take a shrink to get inside her head. I know her first thought would've been of me. I was only four years old. She and my dad couldn't have children of their own, so after ten childless years, they adopted me. Cancer, often a death sentence back in the day, might keep her from being what she'd wanted more than anything - to be a mom. I knew she worried about my well being. Could I thrive in a world without a mother? Knowing my mom, any questions she might've had remained unasked, to avoid inconveniencing the doctor. Of course it wouldn't have mattered much, pre-surgery they didn't have many answers to give. They kept the best for last - she simply woke up without her breast. That's what they did in those days, lopped it off if they found cancer while the patient still lay unconscious. They didn't get options, or time to think. Like thousands of women before her, when she came to, it was without a breast, and that's how she found out she had cancer. I know she kept what must've been a terrifying heartbreak to herself. That was who she was. As I scrolled through her records, one small sentence struck me: Physical examination reveals a young, nervous, female. It was the nervous that got me. She'd have to have been dead to not feel nervous in that situation. But, of all the illnesses my mother survived, it was the nervous she never got over. Maybe this is when it began. Maybe it started out a kernel, in a child from an alcoholic home, where it burrowed and sprang to life in her early thirties, during her first bout with cancer. No one can know. All I know is her acute anxiety shrouded her life, and mine, until her death. It was the inability to calm herself, to quiet her own mind, that drove her to the many risky behaviors that eventually took everything from her - her money, health and dignity. A cruel,relentless force that she couldn't control. To me, it was the saddest diagnosis of all. It's been almost a year since she passed and I still try to reconcile who she really was with who she appeared to be. I grieve over our conflicted relationship and the wounds we could never heal. Mostly, I miss her. Had she lived, tomorrow would've been my mother's 80th birthday. So, wherever you are Mom, happy birthday. I know some lower level angel is lighting your cigarettes while you lay out your bingo cards. You know what they say, "Talent borrows. Genius steals." And no one said it better than Macy Gray. Every time I hear this song I think of my mom: On and on and on I've searched What I'm lookin' for is not here on earth I can't stand, I can't take no more So I know that I gotta go So long everybody, don't be sad for me Life was a heartache and now I am finally free Don't know where I'm headed, hope I see you someday soon So long everybody, I have gone beyond the moon All I ever wanted, love and the peace and the harmony Just to be, to live and shine, when I get ready I up and fly And I can't remember none of the things that I want to forget It's the best satisfaction no less, ask if I'm free and I'll say, "Oh yes" I know that now, my mom is finally at peace, and free.
26 Comments
Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:36:09 am
Thank you Roshni. Hugs are always good!
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Robin
10/17/2014 04:34:22 am
Kathleen, what intimacy and clarity and emotion you convey. I second the hugs from Roshni.
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:37:01 am
I second that hugs are always good! Thank you, Robin.
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10/17/2014 04:43:04 am
Oh boy. How very frightening for her, to find out like that at such a young age, and all by herself. To wake up with her body changed like that must have been so horrible. I can understand why you'd keep the medical files and why it would have been both hard and yet somehow compelling to read them, in order to get a sense of who she was at that age. My heart goes out to her, and to you, now without her. Thank you for sharing her story, it's deeply moving. xo
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:39:07 am
Back in the day they didn't worry about a woman's rights or her opinions or feelings. Horrible. I can't imagine what it must've been like. She was one tough chick, my mom. Thank you, Claudia.
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10/17/2014 05:01:09 am
What a find! My heart breaks for this young nervous white female, all alone in that room. Very interesting. Makes me want to know more.
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:41:14 am
She saved those records, so they must've meant something to her. She was an enigma though so she never would've said what. She did have an interesting, tough life. Good book subject. Although she's a part of every book I write, in some form or another!
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10/17/2014 05:09:32 am
I don't know what to say either except to give a virtual hug.
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:41:49 am
Awww...thank you, Dave!
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:42:55 am
They drive us nuts when they're alive but leave a huge void when they're gone. Sad. Thanks for reading and commenting, William. I appreciate it.
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Donna Eagan
10/17/2014 07:51:51 am
Kathleen,
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Kathleen
10/18/2014 02:44:12 am
Me too. She drove me crazy but i miss her a lot. I often think of the funny things she did and said. Sometimes not on purpose. LOL. But, I think about her every day. Thanks so much for reading, Donna.
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Tamra Cloud
10/18/2014 06:53:56 pm
Hi Kathy,
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Kathleen O'Donnell
10/29/2014 02:30:24 am
Thank you, Tamra. I love that you read it and commented! We are tough chicks and I feel for you and what might've been had your mom lived to see how great you are.
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Tamra Cloud
11/3/2014 05:10:58 am
Thanks Kathy :)
Marybeth
10/19/2014 02:27:46 pm
Painful recollections beautifully rendered... The human heart is blessedly expansive and can hold conflicting emotions at once. But the love usually wins. Xo
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Kathleen O'Donnell
10/29/2014 02:31:03 am
All those cliches are true...love can conquer all.
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My mother often comments on how she knows that my sister and I are just going to toss all of her papers when she is gone. She's wrong, though. I will go through everything, holding on to little pieces of my mother. Although I know it was hard to read your mother's notes, I hope they also give you a bit of comfort.
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Kathleen O'Donnell
10/29/2014 02:32:42 am
It's funny what you can learn about your parents (who are often enigmas to us) from their papers. I think I know about my mom today than I did while she lived. I don't know if I'm sad or not about that...
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10/28/2014 12:18:52 pm
WOW. While I relate to this from your well told experience and felt it and held my own breath, I couldn't help but relate it to my own. I'm adopted, and just met my bio mom a few years ago. She went through a double mascetomy in December and I found out that both of her sisters have and that her mother died of breast cancer, and her grandma of ovarian.
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Kathleen O'Donnell
10/29/2014 02:34:21 am
Oh my, Kristi. Such sad news along with the happy. Isn't that how life goes? Strange how it all works. You and I randomly crossed paths and have so much in common. That's definitely the upside of social media. Many hugs to you too, my friend.
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Suzie
11/4/2014 12:10:22 pm
I simply cannot imagine what it must have been like in that day as a woman with all that was happening to her. She sounds like a pretty tough lady your mom. Thanks for sharing that. Big hug to you.
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