{Breast Cancer} affected me

Image via womensvoicesforchange.org

In 1986 my paternal grandmother died of Breast Cancer.  At the time, she was reluctant to see a doctor and/or accept that there was anything wrong with her.  According to my aunt, she noticed that my grandmother had flaming red lines streaming down the inside of her arms starting from her armpits (from what she could see) and mainly on the underside of her arms.  The areas of her breasts were much worse.  Her cancer was probably a stage 4 because there was nothing the medical doctors could do.  My grandmother simply ignored all of her symptoms and perhaps never thought that something like 'cancer' would inevitably kill her.

I was 8 years old when she died.  I have vivid memories of my grandmother, mainly up to age 3 (because it was the last time I saw her.)  I remember the scent of beef stew wafting in the kitchen and the bitter taste of freshly dressed watercress and radish salad.  I always loved the peppery aftertaste of the radish.  After she'd serve the rice for dinner, she'd hand me the silver pot it had been cooked in (cooled, of course) and let me scrape the bottom of the pot that was encrusted with crispy rice with a large silver spoon.  She'd relish in watching me enjoy every crunchy bite.  She used to love eating her watercress salad with her fingers and she'd slurp every drop of vinegar left at the end of a bright green leaf.  It's something I learned from her and still enjoy doing myself today, you know, for the sake of 'remembering' her.  She always wore stockings and orthopedic looking black lace up shoes.  She loved cooking perhaps that's why her apron was usually a wardrobe accessory for her.  She'd always have strawberry soda (in a glass bottle and yes, the one with all the bright red food coloring you can imagine) in her pantry for me to have.  One of the last things she ever gave me was a beautiful custom made baby blue organza dress for my third birthday.  I remember wearing and loving that baby blue dress...I can still remember the sweet taste of that red soda.

Me at age 3 with the baby blue dress my grandmother had especially made for me

Sadly, because my parents had ended their marriage with much animosity my mother negated my father's request to allow me to see my grandmother on her dying bed.  My grandmother's last request was for my father to fly me up to New York in order for her to see me, her 'Tesoro' (which means 'Treasure' in spanish), for one last time because she knew she was dying.  The reunion never took place.  I resented my mother for many years after I learned of this fact but I've since let it go.  My mother still regrets her insensitive decision but I've forgiven her.  It's all I can do.  I'm grateful for the memories I've been able to recapture of my grandmother.  Ironically, both my mother and father remind me often of how much I resemble, remind and look like my grandmother. Life is funny like that...

The Summer of Love and Loss

In 1991, at the end of my eighth grade school year, my best friend (at the time) confessed to me that her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  We were 14 years old and looking forward to being Freshmen in High School soon.

That morning at school, the bell had just rung and we were all scurrying to get to our homeroom classes.  I was dreading a math test scheduled for that afternoon.

Jenny: 'My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer last week.' She said to me as I was stacking my binder and book in the crook of my arm. We were too cool for book bags.  


Me: 'Oh no.  That sucks!'  I said to her unaware of my insensitive response.  

At that point, I had never really known much about breast cancer (not ever aware that my grandmother had died of it.)  I was a little shocked being that I knew her mother and had spent many weekend days at Jenny's house.  Jenny's family was a close, unbroken and seemingly 'functional' family (much different from my own life).  I admired the way Jenny's mother would concern herself with Jenny's well-being and her attention to both Jenny and her little sister.  Her mother was an educated woman, soft spoken, firm but sweet and she adored her family.  She was always kind to me.  I believe that perhaps she felt sorry for me at times because she knew that I came from a difficult background, situation and life altogether but she never treated me any less.  She was always a gracious host and never failed to offer up a delectable Colombian dish for me to try.  She was proud of her heritage and I'd always accept her offer to try her food.  I could see that she enjoyed seeing her daughter, Jenny, having young teen girl moments and slowly growing into the woman she'd become one day.  I was sensitive to those nuances.

Jenny's mother went on to have a double mastectomy, in the hopes of 'getting it all.'  I remember coming to the house and seeing her mother's head carefully wrapped in a beautiful silk scarf.  Her features were bold and beautiful.  A striking profile, translucent skin and a long chin.  Her dark hair was absent but her smile was always present.  I saw her bare scalp a few times but always felt bad starring, in shock, for too long.  Jenny barely spoke much about her mother's illness but she did choose me to be one of the friend's she allowed to 'witness' it all happening.  I never knew what to do or say.  I was simply there.    

Jenny's parents on their 'official' wedding day...

Sometime later, Jenny's parents decided to renew their wedding vows.  I was honored to have been invited.  Jenny wanted me there.  As 14 year olds I'm not exactly sure we knew what we needed but intuition spoke for itself.  Her parents were very much in love and their marriage was the epitome of a strong union.  On the day of the wedding, Jenny's mother could not walk herself down the aisle.  She was escorted down in a wheelchair wearing her two-piece off-white linen skirt suit along with her off-white big brim hat (to cover her peach fuzz scalp) and her fresh flowers in her lap.  Her body was tired and frail and giving out on her but her smile was radiant, her spirit was more alive than I had ever seen it and her admiration and love for her family was felt, seen and present on that day.  I was moved to tears and joy and love during the entire celebration.  It was a bittersweet moment.  I remember wanting to capture and soak in every single ounce of it.  I didn't want to forget a thing.  I didn't want this moment to ever end for Jenny, her sister, her mother, her father or her family.  The moment was priceless and so raw.

*This is the first time I record my memories of it and I still cannot believe that I'm able to recall it so vividly.  I guess that is how much it truly affected me.  

That same summer a dear person in my life went through a heart wrenching divorce.  It was a whirlwind of confusion and anger for most of us.  What did we know? We were kids then.  It inevitably affected all whom were part of her life.  The having to adjust to life without their marriage existing was difficult and we suffered along with her.  I ended up going to visit my now ex-Uncle for about two-weeks after the divorce.  I longed for things to go back to the way they were but I knew it never would.  During my two-week stay with my Uncle, his daughter (coincidentally named, Jenny) and his new 'girlfriend', Lucy, I really tried to make the best of that part of my summer.

About a week into my stay, my mother called.  I was a bit taken back because my mother rarely called to check up on me.  She automatically assumed that I was well cared for.  Thankfully I was well but her reason for calling was not 'just because.'  She called me to tell me that Jenny's mother had lost her battle to breast cancer and that she had died the night before.

I was struck with a tsunami of grief and pain and simply sobbed my existence over the phone with my mother.  I could hear her crying on the other end as well.  All I could say was 'my best-friend's mother died.  She died. She died.'

Because I was seven hours from Miami, I could not attend the funeral.  I wasn't there to emotionally support my friend.  I wasn't there to dry her tears or hold her or rub her back.  I wasn't there to show how much I cared.  I didn't enjoy the rest of my stay because my heart was sobbing for my friend that had just lost her mother.  Forever.  And.  Ever.

While one marriage was re-newed another was severed.  One marriage was reluctant to let go and the other simply slipped away.  In the end, only love remains, even for the broken hearts.

Several weeks later I was able to see Jenny, now mother-less.  She seemed different.  She was missing a huge part of her.  I didn't know how to feel or not to feel.  It was confusing and awful all at once.  She shared with me the last moments she had had with her mother.

It was late in the evening and Jenny and her family had decided that the best place for her mother to peacefully pass on was appropriately in the comfort of their home.  Her mother's disease was incurable and every single breath she took was one step closer to her last.  Jenny sat beside her mother as much as she could.  I cannot imagine the enormity of the emotional struggle having to do this.  Her mother would ask for water quite often, the pain meds gave her a dry mouth.  She was only able to sip a little bit at a time.  Jenny shared with me that on this one occasion, her mother asked her slowly, softly and deliberately that she needed her to grab a bit of water for her.  Jenny, naturally satisfied her mother's request.  She said that she stepped out of her mother's bedroom for no more than 2 minutes.  Upon her return, she gently tried to hand her mother the small glass of water, but her mother had already taken her last breath minutes before.  Jenny called her name out, 'Mami, Mami, wake up.'  She had passed.

Perhaps her mother knew that she was about to die but didn't want her daughter to 'see' it all happen.  Perhaps this is why she had asked her for one more glass of water.  Perhaps not.  I've often wondered about this for the past twenty years.  I believe that Jenny's mother was at peace with her passing.  She was at peace enough to know that it was okay to send her daughter off to grab more water, maybe for the very last time.  I'm sure Jenny was relieved to 'see' her mother at peacefully rest, in spite of her grief.  

It's been twenty years since I experienced this sort of loss.  Twenty years.  I'll never forget how it affected me.  How I've carried Jenny's mother's memory with me even after all this time.  How breast cancer affected me in ways that I sometimes cannot fully wrap my head around or clearly explain but how it continues to live in my heart.

Today I dedicate this blog post to Jenny's mother, Amparo, to her father and to Jenny & Jessica.  Your lives touched mine.  Your mother's life lives in my heart and I will never forget the beauty, love and admiration I witnessed so long ago... All my love... (Laura) aka: Vanessa

Jenny (left)  and her little sister Jessica (right)

Jessica's wedding day...Jenny is fixing her dress

Two sweet sisters on a joyous day...