Journal of a
Living Lady # 55
This has been one of my better weeks. With any three-week cycle of chemotherapy, the week you take it is the worst. There are lots of bothersome side-effects. The nausea isn’t so bad for me, but the achiness and peripheral numbness is. The second week reminds me of a waning bout with the flu. By the third week, quality of life returns and I am my old self again.
It is hard to relax because always on the horizon is the fourth Monday when the cycle repeats itself. Sort of like being in jail, then a half-way house, and finally getting a few days of freedom, only to surrender to the authorities again. As predicted, I am as bald as a convict. My crime is having metastatic cancer. While doing my time, I am studying the fence for a gap to get away from it all. Not just a reprieve, but a full pardon. If not a cure, then a transfer to a far better place. But, until then, I am thankful my mind hasn’t been affected. To read, to study, to converse with friends. That is a blessing I don’t take for granted.
This past week-end Buddy took me to Huntsville to visit my elderly aunt who is my father’s only sister. Though physically doing good for her eighty-two years, Aunt Anne’s memory is going. It took me thirty minutes of diagramming the family tree to help her understand who I was. Not that she doesn’t know me well. During World War II, she was the first in the family to see me after I was born. I spent many summers at her lake house. Also, she catered my wedding. In a way, she was my second mother.
I understand that this is the early stage of Alzheimer’s disease. She will probably never get better. That is sad. Someone has aptly said, “The mind is a terrible thing to waste.” And it is.
Aunt Anne was always so vibrant and full of personality. She dressed elegantly even to go to the grocery store. Her beautiful, silver hair was always magnificently coiffured. What little social manners I know, she taught me. Because of her, I usually write thank you notes and do so promptly. She taught me how to make a bed properly and how to set the table with two forks. I don’t always do what I should do socially, but at least I know how.
My side of the family was hard-working, but poor. Fortunately Aunt Anne married someone who owned a prosperous company. She made sure I had dental care. Once a year she bought me school clothes. Nice ones. She and my uncle assisted with my college tuition.
Aunt Anne helped my father and mother, with their five children, through some hard times. Christmas was always merrier because of her. I am grateful for her generosity. She never forgot her roots and was a role-model to me.
Now she hardly remembers my name. During our visit, I tried to remind her of some the good times we had. Once in a while, I sparked a memory and a smile. When Buddy and I left, Aunt Anne wanted to know if we could move there.
Aunt Anne has a healthy body. I have a healthy mind. I wouldn’t trade my cancer for her senility. Thankfully, her daughter lives near-by and takes very good care of her. She is happy in her own little world. Though I can’t locate near her, she will always be as close as my heart. The world needs more mentors like Aunt Anne.
nancyk@alltel.net https://www.angelfire.com/bc/nancykelly
