The Circle of Life
We’re still reeling from the shock. It all happened so fast. On January 24 we discovered that my oldest sister, Lois, had lung cancer. It was pretty far along when it was discovered. The family did what we always do--we huddled together, girted our loins, and then proceeded to battle this unseen enemy. We were always one step behind. Cancer is so insidious. It spreads and you can't predict where it will go. We prayed, preached, read scriptures and hollered. We told Lois that "by his stripes" she would be healed. We were persuaded that disease does not come from God, but from the Devil. We tried to deny Satan. Was he stronger than our faith?
Joyce and I sat in the doctor's office with Lois as she received blow after blow. She stoically accepted the bad news with very few tears. What a strong woman? How could I have known her for so long and not known her courage?
She had to have been strong to have raised another woman's children. She was only twenty-two when our mother died and five years later our father died. She raised the last three siblings through her strength and courage. I had forgotten her determination to get me through high school and into college. It was her steel will that has kept our family together.
First Dr. Campbell, the pulmonary specialist told her that she had cancer and advised her to pray. We prayed. Then the oncologist told her that her cancer was already stage IV. We prayed more.
Next a second oncologist told her that the chemotherapy drug was too strong for her. She was already in a fragile condition. The only drug left for him to recoomend cost $3,152 per month. She looked at me and asked, "Should I?" My answer: "You have your life savings. This is what you have saved all your life for." She said, "Okay, write the check." The doctor said, first let us see if we can get the pharmaceutical company to underwrite some of the expense. She raised her tired, aching head that had been drooping and said, "I can't wait." She looked at me again and said, "Write the check." I did. I'm the baby sister I always obey.
She told the doctor she was so tired. She had not wanted to come to see him that day. She had wanted to send me. He told her that it was not necessary for her to come again. Next time she could call in her visit. He asked if we had considered Hospice. I asked him to explain what he meant my Hospice. He explained that it was caring for a patient at home at the end of life. Lois said she wanted to try the miracle drug first.
We waited for the miracle. As she took this miracle drug that cost $3,152 for a 30-day supply, we watched her. We thought it would be like putting water on a wilting plant. We wanted to see her skin plump again. We wanted to hear her laugher ring out again. We wanted to see color in her cheeks. The only color we saw was yellow. She was jaundiced. The cancer had spread to her liver.
Two days before her death she allowed us to put a diaper on her for the first time. Before she'd insisted that she could make it to the pot. At this point she must have been in great pain, but she allowed herself enough morphine only to get sleep at night. On her last day she allowed me to give her morphine at 5:00 p.m.
Not realizing how close she was to the end, we called Hospice and said we needed help. The nurse came, took one look at Lois in called in an urgent care nurse to spend the night. We were down to hours.
Lois peacefully passed away at home on May 9. She was in her beloved home, in her favorite bed with sun streaming through the windows. Joyce, the nurse, and I, along with my daughter and two church members, held hands in a circle around the bed. We sang old hymns, prayed and praised God. Lois quietly slipped away. No one knows exactly when she stopped breathing. She quietly and undramatically left this life. She really never liked to cause anyone too much trouble.
After at lifetime of hard work, she retired several years ago and was able to do exactly what she wanted to do. She deserved that after rearing her siblings after our parents died. Now she is with our family who preceeded her in death. She has peace, love, and rest.
We had a wonderful homegoing service for Lois. Jackie, my eighteen year old daughter hd written a poem for Lois ten years earlier. It was first recited at Lois' retirement party. Jackie recited it again at the funeral. She was amazed that Lois had saved the poem so long. She didn’t understand how sentimental women can be about things like that.
I hope you things are going well for each of you.
Joyce and I sat in the doctor's office with Lois as she received blow after blow. She stoically accepted the bad news with very few tears. What a strong woman? How could I have known her for so long and not known her courage?
She had to have been strong to have raised another woman's children. She was only twenty-two when our mother died and five years later our father died. She raised the last three siblings through her strength and courage. I had forgotten her determination to get me through high school and into college. It was her steel will that has kept our family together.
First Dr. Campbell, the pulmonary specialist told her that she had cancer and advised her to pray. We prayed. Then the oncologist told her that her cancer was already stage IV. We prayed more.
Next a second oncologist told her that the chemotherapy drug was too strong for her. She was already in a fragile condition. The only drug left for him to recoomend cost $3,152 per month. She looked at me and asked, "Should I?" My answer: "You have your life savings. This is what you have saved all your life for." She said, "Okay, write the check." The doctor said, first let us see if we can get the pharmaceutical company to underwrite some of the expense. She raised her tired, aching head that had been drooping and said, "I can't wait." She looked at me again and said, "Write the check." I did. I'm the baby sister I always obey.
She told the doctor she was so tired. She had not wanted to come to see him that day. She had wanted to send me. He told her that it was not necessary for her to come again. Next time she could call in her visit. He asked if we had considered Hospice. I asked him to explain what he meant my Hospice. He explained that it was caring for a patient at home at the end of life. Lois said she wanted to try the miracle drug first.
We waited for the miracle. As she took this miracle drug that cost $3,152 for a 30-day supply, we watched her. We thought it would be like putting water on a wilting plant. We wanted to see her skin plump again. We wanted to hear her laugher ring out again. We wanted to see color in her cheeks. The only color we saw was yellow. She was jaundiced. The cancer had spread to her liver.
Two days before her death she allowed us to put a diaper on her for the first time. Before she'd insisted that she could make it to the pot. At this point she must have been in great pain, but she allowed herself enough morphine only to get sleep at night. On her last day she allowed me to give her morphine at 5:00 p.m.
Not realizing how close she was to the end, we called Hospice and said we needed help. The nurse came, took one look at Lois in called in an urgent care nurse to spend the night. We were down to hours.
Lois peacefully passed away at home on May 9. She was in her beloved home, in her favorite bed with sun streaming through the windows. Joyce, the nurse, and I, along with my daughter and two church members, held hands in a circle around the bed. We sang old hymns, prayed and praised God. Lois quietly slipped away. No one knows exactly when she stopped breathing. She quietly and undramatically left this life. She really never liked to cause anyone too much trouble.
After at lifetime of hard work, she retired several years ago and was able to do exactly what she wanted to do. She deserved that after rearing her siblings after our parents died. Now she is with our family who preceeded her in death. She has peace, love, and rest.
We had a wonderful homegoing service for Lois. Jackie, my eighteen year old daughter hd written a poem for Lois ten years earlier. It was first recited at Lois' retirement party. Jackie recited it again at the funeral. She was amazed that Lois had saved the poem so long. She didn’t understand how sentimental women can be about things like that.
I hope you things are going well for each of you.
posted by Mildred and James Walters @ 4:07 PM
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