Tag: cancer

Twenty years ago

(Hearts by Angie Traverse)

Twenty years ago today, my friend Angie died.

We had met when we were volunteering at the middle school our children attended. Angie was kind and caring and funny and talented and we became friends, although she had a plethora of friends already. Because we were both doing volunteering and taking care of family, we had the flexibility to meet for lunch and chat or work on committee projects. Because Angie’s good will also embraced family, she got to know my parents.

We thought that, one day, we would become grandparents and have multi-generational hangouts.

Unfortunately, a nagging cough when Angie was 50 turned out to be stage 3 lung cancer. It was a shock because she had never been a smoker. Despite all the best efforts of her medical team, the cancer eventually progressed and took her life at 54.

March 25th was Good Friday that year.

There was a charitable fund set up in her name and, for years, I gave to it every year on March 25th and on her October birthday. The last few years, though, the website has disappeared. I think the fund probably had enough contribution for it to be endowed so its work can continue.

I’ve written about Angie before here at Top of JC’s Mind and even had a poem published about our friendship and her loss.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Angie’s death was followed by the loss of my long-time parish community and the death of B’s dad, the first loss of a grandparent for our daughters.

2005 became one of the worst years of my life.

I fear that 2025 may be even worse, especially when I look at what is happening in the United States as our democracy disintegrates and damages lives here and abroad.

Personally, this will be the year where we figure out what is going on with my health and address it or the year where I have to deal with giving up what I thought my life as an elder would be.

A small problem when people are dying or being threatened or losing family members because Trump/Musk/Vance et al think they can break laws, norms, and ethical obligations and concentrate all power in the executive branch.

I am sorry that I am too weak to be out on the streets for protests and have to confine my activities to online posts and messages and phone calls.

I’m hoping we can turn 2025 around after these horrible last couple of months.

Trying – while mourning for those who have been hurt.

And still, twenty years later, missing Angie.

losing Joan

(Photo by July on Unsplash)

I got news yesterday of the death of a college friend.

Joan and I met in Ron Perera‘s first-year music theory class. Like me, Joan was a western Massachusetts native and a Catholic with close ties to her family. She was a talented violinist. I remember her giving a demonstration to our theory class, showing us all the techniques used to create different sonorities for us to use in our compositions.

For junior year, Joan went to the University of Michigan and decided to transfer there to finish her education. However, “once a Smithie, always a Smithie,” Joan remained a member of the Smith College class of ’82.

Joan went on to a successful career playing in orchestras, concluding with a long tenure with the Kennedy Center Opera Orchestra in Washington, DC. Her performance schedule kept her busy but, two years ago, she was able to attend our 40th reunion in Northampton, visiting family in the area which hadn’t been possible during the height of the pandemic. While we had been keeping in touch over the years, it was the first time in decades that we had seen each other and it was great. We started speculating where we would each be living post-retirement when our 45th reunion rolled around.

Right after reunion, Joan developed COVID. Fortunately, she wasn’t very sick but she was bummed about missing some of her opera performances.

It was a shock when she was diagnosed with acute lymphoma that fall. She immediately began chemotherapy. Due to the intensity of the treatment and her weakened immune system, she had to stay at home, where her husband Paul was her loving and capable caregiver.

In summer of last year, Joan was able to resume performing while her treatment migrated to a maintenance regimen. This January, she was posting about the orchestra.

And, sometime since, her remission ended and the cancer came back with a vengeance.

I didn’t know.

Early this month, I had emailed her some new photos of my granddaughters and Joan sent a reply about how beautiful they are. Sending photos had been something I had done during her home-bound period and continued to do from time to time. I am grateful that I was unknowingly able to add a moment of love and beauty to her final weeks.

Hearing the news of Joan’s death from our Smith friends was a shock and brought waves of tears. It’s also brought to mind this recent Washington Post article, raising the disturbing prospect that SARS-CoV -2 infection may play a role in the development of cancer, particularly rare or unusual ones. It will take years of research to determine whether or not this is the case but the mystery of it all is disquieting.

The final commendation at Joan’s funeral will begin, “May the angels lead you into Paradise.” May there be a beautiful violin waiting for you there, Joan.

19 years ago

About my friend Angie.

(Hearts graphic by Angie Traverse)

Nineteen years ago today, my friend Angie died from lung cancer. She was only 54. She had never smoked or lived in a house with high radon or worked in a place with known carcinogens but, by whatever combination of genetics and living, cancer appeared and was diagnosed when she was fifty.

She was treated by some great doctors locally and in Boston and she fought hard for four years and some months, but passed away on Good Friday, 2005.

There have been a lot of developments in cancer treatment since then, some of which are advertised on television. I often wonder if any of those medications would have helped Angie live longer and better.

For years, I made contributions on March 25 and on Angie’s October birthday to the charitable fund established in her memory but, a few years back, the online page went away. Now, I just remember and write an occasional post. One of my favorite Angie posts is this one, written when I turned 54.

That year, I also wrote a poem about Angie, which was published by Wilderness House Literary Review:

Fifty-four

We were the October Babes,
You from 1950,
Me from 1960.

On your fifty-fourth birthday,
You managed coffee ice cream with hot fudge
Despite the metastases in your neck.

On my fifty-fourth birthday,
I raise a solo toast with your favorite Coke-with-a-lemon-wedge
To the October Babes being fifty-four together.
*****

This October, God willing, I will turn 64.

I wish Angie were still here, as an about-to-be 74-year-old grandma, mom, artist, and dear friend. The world could use her compassion, creativity, and spirit right now.

Review: American Symphony

Last night, B, T, and I watched American Symphony on Netflix, a documentary which followed the extraordinary musician Jon Batiste in 2022. It is also being shown in theaters.

I had loved watching Jon Batiste on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. He and his band, Stay Human, were the house band on the show, beginning with its inaugural episode in 2015. I appreciated Jon’s talent, his ability to cross and blend musical genres, and his gentle, positive spirit. While his jazz roots were always in evidence, he would often use elements from classical music or indigenous/folk music in his compositions, arrangements, and improvisations. During the early part of the pandemic when the show was being produced remotely, Jon would often still have a segment with Stephen where they would talk from their respective homes and Jon would play a bit on his piano or sing. Even though things were very different, it was a comfort to hear Jon’s expressive, calming voice in a difficult time.

Jon always had multiple projects going on, including performing, recording, and composing. For example, he won an Oscar for best original score as one of the composers for Disney-Pixar’s Soul in 2021. 2022 was set to be another busy, productive year for Jon Batiste, which director Matthew Heineman set out to document on film.

Jon was preparing to premiere his “American Symphony” which would bring together elements of influence of his and American music on stage at Carnegie Hall for a one-time-only performance. He was about to be nominated for 11 Grammy awards across an array of genres. There was still his Late Show gig.

And then, his long-time partner and soon-to-be spouse, the writer/author Suleika Jaouad, had a recurrence of leukemia after ten years in remission and American Symphony transformed from being a documentary about a composer and his music into a film about love, life, living, and how art expresses that all, helps us to process, and propels us forward.

The openness of Jon and Suleika in showing us their pain, anxieties, and vulnerability, as well as their love, art, and joys, is incredibly brave and moving. It was upsetting to me to hear that Jon faced a lot of criticism and negative comments about his eleven Grammy nominations – and eventual five wins, announced while Suleika was beginning chemotherapy. It just seemed so mean-spirited to inflect on a gentle soul at such a vulnerable time. I had known that things were stressful for Jon because he needed to end his years as band leader at The Late Show, but I hadn’t realized the extent of the situation until watching American Symphony.

While being a musician or music-lover will add to your appreciation of this film, it is certainly recommended to all teens and adults who are open to honest expressions of the human condition. It is not for younger children, who might be upset by the intensity of the medical side of the story.

My best wishes to Jon and Suleika for many years of love and art to come. Thank you for sharing so much of yourselves with us.

Photo by Denise Jans on Unsplash

supporting those with lymphoma

I admire Rep. Jamie Raskin of Maryland. He is a lawyer and Constitutional scholar just beginning his fourth term in Congress. He served as an impeachment manager in the second trial of Donald Trump and just completed his work on the 1/6 Select Committee.

It’s heartbreaking that he lost his son just days before the 1/6/21 attack on the Capitol. I admire Rep. Raskin’s ability to continue in public service in the aftermath of both personal and national challenges.

He has recently announced a new challenge, a battle with lymphoma. He is about to embark on chemotherapy and plans to continue working while he is being treated. I wish him every success in beating his cancer.

I have a college friend who is also currently in treatment for lymphoma and continue to pray for her full recovery.

I have a lot of hope for their long-term remission because treatment protocols for many types of lymphoma have a good record of success.

My father, known here at TJCM as Paco, was diagnosed with lymphoma about twenty years ago. He received chemotherapy and lived to be 96 without a recurrence. I know my father’s experience is anecdotal, but, for me, it helps to have a personal story to add to the data and statistics.

I invite readers who are so inclined to send out healing thoughts/prayers for Jamie Raskin, for my friend J, and for all those dealing with lymphoma. People who are in a position to make a charitable donation may wish to support the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society , which is highly rated by Charity Navigator.
*****
In one of those bizarre coincidences, I had drafted this post earlier, planning to use it for Linda’s Just Jot It January at some point. When I looked up today’s post to do the pingback, I found out the prompt word is “cancer.” Obviously, this post was meant to be shared today.

SoCS: and the hits just keep on coming…

No, this is, unfortunately, not going to be a post about what’s on the Top 40.

I have been scarce/non-existent here at Top of JC’s Mind for the last week because my 96-year-old dad, known here as Paco, fell in his assisted living unit last Saturday. B and I had visited him in the 1-1:30 visiting slot, but he fell about 3:00. We think he was in the kitchenette but aren’t sure. Although he hit the floor pretty hard, he managed to get himself up and over to the couch where he called for help.

He has had a few falls before, but he hit much harder this time. His left side took the force of the fall. He was sent by ambulance to the local hospital where the extent of his injuries was revealed and he was admitted with a bump and cut on his head – luckily no concussion – bruises and contusion on his left arm and elbow, deep bruising on his left hip – luckily no break – a cracked left rib, and two wing fractures of back vertebrae.

The fall, pain, unfamiliar surroundings, etc. also worsened his cognitive condition. Paco already is suffering from dementia and this fall completely unmoored him. On Wednesday, he was stable enough to transfer to a rehab unit. We are hoping that his cognition will improve as he heals and gets stronger. It’s a much calmer and more stable environment than being in the hospital.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day in the United States and it’s hard because we won’t be able to see Paco as visiting in the rehab facility is extremely limited.

The other hit that our family is trying to absorb is that we just got word that a member of our extended family has been diagnosed with metastatic cancer. She is only thirty. She is strong and fighting but everyone is devastated.

And the hits just keep on coming…

*****
Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday this week is “hat/het/hit/hot/hut.” Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/06/18/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-19-2021/

a rainbow at Mercy House

On Wednesday evening, I drove to Mercy House, the hospice residence where my mother lives, during a sun-shower after a heavy downpour. Given the time of day and the moisture in the air, I started to look for a rainbow. When I turned east, a full rainbow appeared before me, one end of it resting on Mercy House.

What I didn’t know at the time was that Phatar, a twelve-year-old who was also in residence at Mercy House, had become unresponsive and would pass away the following day, surrounded by the love of family, friends, and caregivers.

On Friday morning, the door to Phatar’s room was open, his bed made with the quilt pulled up. Near his pillow was a little memorial with a flower, the United States flag that had been on his door, a little poem that had been posted in his room, and his handprint in green paint on white canvas.

This morning at church, Father Clarence told Phatar’s story during the homily, about his cancer diagnosis, about his final months at Mercy House, about his desire to receive Jesus in the Eucharist and his baptism, and the comfort that brought him in his final weeks. There were smiles and tears as we listened.

Our mix of emotions in reacting to death is always complex, but I think most people have a particularly strong sense of sadness at the death of a child. It has also been sad watching Phatar’s mom these last months, suffering through every parent’s nightmare of the illness and death of their child. Still, I am grateful to have met Phatar and to know that he is now at peace.

The next time I see a rainbow, I will think of him.

SoCS: the end of no-shave November

Every November here in the United States, there is an awareness campaign for prostate cancer. It is called No Shave November and people participate by not shaving for the month. There are also fundraisers organized around the event.

My husband B has participated in this initiative in honor of a co-worker who is a prostate cancer survivor.

It is now December fourth, but B still has his new beard! He has been getting lots of positive feedback on the look and has decided to keep it, at least for another month.

For him, it may be no-shave November and December – and maybe longer!
*****
Linda’s prompt for this Stream of Consciousness Saturdays was a word beginning with “sh”. Linda did everything in a timely manner; I am the one not posting until Sunday!  😉 Find out more here:  https://lindaghill.com/2016/12/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-316/

 

sad news about K

A little over two years ago, I posted this poem about my friend K’s cancer diagnosis. It subsequently appeared in an anthology that raised funds for a UK charity.

Today, we received the sad news that she had passed away.

Rest in peace, K.

March 25th

March 25th, 2016 was Good Friday.

So was March 25th, 2005.

The only reason I remember that fact was that that was the day my friend Angie died.

When she died after fighting cancer for over four years, both of B’s parents were still alive. His dad died in July, 2005, also from cancer; his mom, on Tuesday of Holy Week, just a few days before the 11th anniversary of Angie’s death.

In the early morning hours of March 25th, when I couldn’t sleep, I visited the website of the the charity that Angie’s family established in her memory. I always make a donation on March 25th and on October 25th, which was Angie’s birthday.

This year, the paypal link was broken, so I emailed to ask about it.

Her eldest son sent me a reply and set about getting the link fixed. He also sent me a wonderful photo of his daughter, whose middle name is Angeline, after the grandmother she will never meet on this earth. In the photo, she has a marker in her tiny hand. She may be an artist, like Angie.

Life goes on.