Cindy and Me...

February 12, 2022

It was quite a day yesterday...

I needed to get Carol's car out of her garage because her house was in escrow and the new buyers didn't want it.  I think it's an ok car - 1999 Dodge Durango - rarely driven. But her son had used it as a trash can. It creeped me out to look through the paper trash - and other debris - looking for the title and the keys. I had texted my brother, Jim, about the car. He's a car guy, and very, Very smart. I had intended to just donate the car to the Kidney Foundation since Carol had died from renal failure, but I'd had a powerful thought to let Jim know that the car might be in good running order and might just need a battery. He agreed to take it. So, he arranged to have it towed from Cottonwood Heights, where Carol and her three adult offspring had lived, to his home fifty miles away. The tow truck had to come from fifty miles in a different direction to get to Carol's home and then take the car to Jim's house. We had some waiting to do. While we were waiting, my niece, Jessica, called. She had some difficult news that she needed to share with me...

"You know about my mom's squishy lump on her neck, right? And that it's been there a while...?" she started. I knew exactly what she meant. When I had visited my sister at her home in Yorba Linda a few months back, she showed me her squishy lump and wondered if she needed to see a doctor. "Yes! Make an appointment!" I didn't shout, but I was emphatic. Since I've been emphatic all of our lives, she took my urgency in stride. I reminded her that lumps matter. I'd just had a melanoma removed, and our brother, Jim, had a massive one removed a couple of years ago. But, we are not a doctor-going family, so I wasn't surprised when she decided to wait. I'd done the same thing and so had Jim. Until yesterday.

The night before, she found more lumps. She is a practical, intuitive woman and knew that multiple lumps needed immediate exploration, so her husband took her to the emergency room. She was examined, tested, X-rayed, poked, questioned, and kept overnight. The news was grim. Jessica's husband is a physical therapist and understood all the medical jargon. He gave us this translation:

    "Large upper lobe mass means that she as a mass in her lungs. Pulmonary nodules mean she has smaller nodules in her lungs also. Mediastinal adenopathy (chest) and auxiliary (armpit) adenopathy mean that the lymph nodes are enlarged for one reason or another. Lytic lesion of the left rib means there is possible cancerous growth in the bone. This all means possible lung, lymph node, and bone cancer."

Jim and I were stunned. How could that be possible? She is a healthy, strong person! She runs every morning! She eats VEGETABLES! Ok, she has a sweet tooth, but nothing drastic. An occasional goodie doesn't interfere with her healthy, focused nutrition. She is a calm person who takes life as it comes and is not flustered by nonsense. How. Could. This Be??? Jessica told me that her mom told her to call me, but no one else. I told Jessica that I would tell Jim and my other three brothers because we're Family. We are a strong, loving unit that has built an incredible safety net. After my husband passed away, my sibs took me into their arms and homes and sheltered me from all the pain, sorrow, and aloneness. I would absolutely include them in this news. Jessica said, "Mom told me to only call you. She didn't tell you who to call or not call. That's up to you." so, in my mind, permission granted. I texted all four brothers, even though Jim was right there next to me.

My brothers, Spence and Dave, responded immediately. I knew that Rob was at work and wouldn't see the text for a while. Dave jumped right in and called Jessica, who told him the whole story. He was shaken. This is tough. We were each responding to this new reality in our own, personal ways. I called Cindy and talked to her. She was her usual, delightful self, describing her clothing saying that she was wearing the same jeans she had put on the day before when she didn't have cancer. She talked about her friend, Shawn, who had passed from cancer. Cindy had been Shawn's right arm through that whole experience. She knew everything that Shawn had gone through. All of it. Every detail. Yet here she was, talking about what was to come in an objective, realistic way. She choked up for a minute when I asked her how she was feeling about all of this, but she came right back to herself after a moment of emotion. She was amazing. We hugged through the airwaves and agreed to talk when she was resting at home.

I started to cry and told Jim "I'm emotional and I'm starting to think irrational thoughts. I know that they're irrational, but I'm having a hard time removing them." He encouraged me to talk about my thoughts, so I continued, "There's just been so much death and illness around me. I know my thoughts aren't logical, but my reality is that my first husband committed suicide, Mom died, Dad, died, my husband, Craig died at home in my arms, and his mom died in a hospice bed in my house. I sang her into heaven. It's a lot of death and I just can't lose my sister. I don't know my life without her. We shared a bed until I was 12 and she was 11. Then we shared a room until I went to college. She came up the next year and we lived in the same town until we finished school. Then I moved to La Habra and she moved to La Habra. Then she moved to Yorba Linda, and I moved to Yorba Linda. We've lived in the same city for nearly all of our lives until I moved to Texas and then Utah while she stayed in California. I missed her terribly, but I would go to see her often and soak up her presence. I just can't lose her. I just can't..."

Jim quietly and calmly talked me though my fear of being a "death person" and helped me see why I was thinking that. The irrationality left me and I regained my practical, realistic perspective. The tow truck came and focused on the task at hand. The car had no key, and the transmission was in Park, so the driver hooked up a cable and dragged the car down the steep driveway to his waiting flatbed. I didn't know you could drag a car while the transmission was in Park. I left Jim and hurried of the the next important task of my day... to make future funeral arrangements for my former Sister-in-Law and her brother.

They are both still alive, living at a care facility. My former SIL, Donna, is mentally and physically disabled, while her brother is physically disabled. Since Medicaid pays their bills, they cannot receive any proceeds from the sale of their mother's home. But, I can pre-pay their funeral expenses from those proceeds, so that's my plan. I had an appointment at the mortuary to make those arrangements, which I did. I'm not sentimental about these folks, so the conversation was very objective and practical. I needed to get a few more bits of information that were at my house, so we agreed to meet back in a couple of hours which would give me time to go to the care facility to wish my former SIL a happy birthday, because, of course, along with everything else, it was her birthday.

Before I headed back to my valley, I stopped and bought Donna a Minky blanket that had brightly colored flowers all over it. Minky Couture is known for its ultra-soft, cushy blankets and I knew that Donna would love the texture as well as the colors. The clerk put it in a beautiful gift bag that Donna could easily unwrap and I was pleased to have a momentary distraction, Things got even better when I went to Cravings/Alisha's Cupcakes and saw the incredible display. These folks had been on the Food Network show Cupcake Wars and won - for all the delicious reasons. I chose six drool-worthy works of culinary art and fully expected to eat at least one on my way to see Donna but I didn't eat it; I just thought about it. A Lot. 

Donna was in the craft room when I got to Cascades at Orchard Park. I had put the delicacies and gift in her room and then went to find her. As I wheeled her back to get the goodies, she reminded me that it was her birthday... several times... and I kissed her head. "Well, if it's your birthday its a good thing i brought you a present!" She was delighted. That all-encompassing smile enveloped her face as she began tearing the tissue out of the gift bag. "Oh! It's a Bwanket!" Her child-like excitement belied her 64 years, "It's Bwoodiful! Look Low-ie! I got a Bwanket!!"

When I presented her with the box of amazing cupcakes, her first thought was to share them. We took one to her brother who lives down the hall, she gave one to his roommate, one to the nurse on the way back to the craft room, and the rest she shared with the other crafters. She didn't have a bite of even just one. All the joy came in the sharing. I always learn a lot from Donna.

I had gotten the information I needed and was heading back to the mortuary to finalize the plans when I got a call from my realtor. Carol's house had fallen out of escrow. The potential buyers had finally realized that As Is meant As Is. No, I would not be paying them $96,000 to fix the house. So, on to the next potential buyer. But for the time being I couldn't pay for the future funeral expenses. I went to the appointment anyway. Maybe we could make plans now and pay later...?

As I was on my way, my daughter, Betsy, called. She had a processor come to her door to serve her with papers. "For What?!!" Betsy is an amazing woman. She does not do wrong things. No one could have any reason to serve her. She was in turmoil as we texted. The processor agreed to wait until Bets was off work to serve the papers. In the meantime, I had some sleuthing to do. I talked to Jim and told him of the situation.

I had a ticket to see a concert that night at the Abravanel Music Hall in Salt Lake City. The concert was called, "Bravo Broadway, " and would feature all of my favorite musicals. I had just enough time to stop at Floor and Decor and get the materials for the backsplash that would be installed once the new cabinets and countertops were in my kitchen. I started reeling with overwhelm at all the things. Then Jim called. "Sis, I know you have a lot on your mind. Tell Betsy that there are at least two possible scenarios here..." and he described two possible plans of action, one of them being that the whole thing could be a scam and how to handle that. "I also know that Cindy probably won't tell you to come to California to be with her, even though that's what she wants and it's what you want. I can take over your kitchen project if that will free you up to go. Just tell me who to talk to and what you want me to say and do. You can go as soon as you want." He freed me. He freed me to follow my heart instead of my responsibilities. More tears, but this time of relief. "Thank you, Brother. As always, I'm deeply grateful for all you do for me." I texted Betsy, emailed the cabinet and countertop people, gave them Jim's contact info, bought the grout, caulk, and schulter jolly edging and thought about going to the concert. I. Was. Exhausted. I wondered if the concert would be a fun pick-me-up that would help me feel better, or if it would just be draining and I'd be driving home late and spent. I opted for home and drove south instead of north.

The freeway was crowded and I was glad to get a call from my son, Donnie. He'd had a great day and was happy to share the exciting details with me. I was grateful for the diversion. I recounted some of my day and we commiserated about Cindy's condition. I told him I had decided not to go to the concert and would probably opt for a not-Noom-approved dinner.  He gave me a verbal "hall-pass" to do that and I giggled. It felt good. I got into the incredibly long line at the Purple Turtle drive-thru to get a burger and a root beer freeze, and decided to talk to my brother, Dave. He had talked to Cindy and was clearly distraught. When he answered my call, I could hear the despair in his voice even though he insisted that he was fine. He invited me to stay with him when I go to California, and I love to be with him and Paula in his home. I'll probably stay with Cindy, though. She invited me and I want to be with her. Dave and I chatted until it was my turn to order. It felt good to talk with my brother. I am so blessed to have such good men in my life.

I took my bag of high fat, high cholesterol, booty-building yummies home and watched the Americans win the Team Snow Boarding Cross. Gold medals. Years of work. I was so happy for them. I thought about the winning and losing in life. How days go on even when it doesn't seem like they can or will. I was grateful that I wasn't at the concert. I was grateful that I was in my pretty little house, cozied up on the couch, safe and warm. Waiting. Waiting for whatever. Waiting for whatever comes next. Tomorrow I'll go and I will be part of Cindy's battalion - literally hundreds of people who love her and are on her team. She will fight this tooth and nail. She will pull out all the stops and we will all be there buoying her up and carrying her onward. We will go on every day, no matter what. We will do all the good things and all the hard things and all the every day things. We will weep and we will cheer and I will love her fiercely forever. And Ever.