Her name was Julie, but she was also known as Gomar and GranJulie. She was Jim's wife; Jimmy, John, Chris, Jeanne, and Billy's mother; Annie and Margie's mother-in-law; Jameson, Taryn, Dustin, Samantha and Billy's grandmother; Brownie, Gina, Billy, Jimmy and Peggy's sister; and aunt to dozens of cousins in her family. She lived to be 86 years old and passed on into the welcoming arms of God and those of her already deceased siblings yesterday afternoon.
Julie was funny (and passed that sense of humor onto her perpetually pranking children). She was fashionable in her day, with an elegant sense of style, and was proud of her Irish heritage (maiden name: Carroll) She had a flair for writing, once penning a moving poem about American soldiers that she shared with her granddaughter Taryn. She loved acquiring kitschy, quirky items (the kitchen is filled with all kinds of cow curios and knickknacks) and enjoyed the unique personalities of each of her children, even when they were at their unruliest (who can forget the story of her pouring soup on young John's head when he complained about the meal he had been served?). One of the things that I loved best about her was that when she called, she always spent the exact right amount of time on the phone - not too short and not too long, which made me look forward to speaking with her. Right up until the very end, she demonstrated concern and compassion for others, worrying over me and my health issues even as she struggled to overcome her own.
This is by no means a comprehensive accounting of Julie's life and person - she was far more multi-layered than I can ever account for here. Consider this merely a small tribute from someone who loved her dearly, not only because her son gave me the most amazing gift I will ever have in Taryn; not only because the family she and Jim created are a blessing that Taryn will get to enjoy her whole life; but also because she made me smile and touched my heart. And although there is heartache tonight, I know that there will soon be laughter, and love, and living again, because Julie wouldn't have it any other way.
God keep you safe in his loving arms, Julie - "Twas heaven here with you."
Friday, August 21, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Like A Rolling Stone
Well, it looks like another of my spare body parts is going to be removed. God sure knew what He was doing when He gave us all these extras.
After my third gall bladder attack in 4 months, and second in a week, it has been determined that I do in fact have gall stones and my gall bladder needs to come out. This latest episode, which actually landed me in Stony Brook Hospital for 3 days, started Wednesday night while Warren and I were visiting Jackie and Joe in Breezy Point. Those three spent the night whooping it up, drinking and carousing while I writhed in pain on the couch listening to "WipeOut" with Leah and Ryan. Naaah, kidding - I was on the couch for awhile, hoping it would pass, but Jackie and Joe and Warren were quite attentive to my distress. Eventually, it was evident that I needed to get to the emergency room so Warren and I left (and now, I'm not sure we'll ever get invited back!).
By the time we got to the ER, I was at a level "10" on the pain scale, indicating in all likelihood that my body was trying to pass the stone. After some VERY effective morphine was administered (nasty unpleasant buzz but getting rid of the pain was worth it), I was admitted for evaluation and possible surgery. Thus began the by now familiar routine of blood work, monitoring, diagnostic tests ("blah blah BLAH" as Tommy Gavin would say) and my favorite part of the process - no food for 45 hours! This was a result of several factors: the doctors wanting to give my poor gall bladder a rest; the possibility of a diagnostic test that would need me to fast; the possibility of surgery and anesthesia; and a failure of the doctors (internists, GI specialists, and surgeons) to get on the same page soon enough with respect to my treatment plan.
At 44 hours and counting I advised my wonderful and compassionate nurse Maureen that if I did not get food or see a doctor within the next hour, I would call my husband and leave the hospital. And eat. After all, by then (Friday at 4:00 pm) it was clear no surgery would be taking place before Monday. An hour later - I had a menu (Stony Brook has room service style meals) and a plan. All right, the menu was low-fat foods only but by then I could not have cared less. Another 24 hours later I was going home.
So, it appears surgery will happen sometime in the next couple of weeks, although not before September. I will find out for sure on Tuesday when I see the surgeon. It is beyond the point where just following a low-fat diet will help, even if I was so inclined to adhere to such a distasteful (pun intended!) regimen. Ironically, the choices I've had to make as a result of the surgery and radiation side effects are partly to blame for this little predicament. There was no winning this one.
I did, at one point, have to make an impassioned plea to my doctor in the hospital. They wanted to do the surgery (it's pretty uncomplicated, typically done on an outpatient basis) late this coming week and I refused. I explained that I have spent almost 15 years of my life fighting to stay alive, and the last several months undergoing rigorous therapies, all in an effort to continue to enjoy the important moments in Taryn's life, and in my family's lives. I was emphatic that I was NOT going to miss taking her to college, under any circumstances, and having the surgery anytime after Monday would have impacted my ability to do so in the way I need to. I don't know what the future holds; I don't know what course this disease (cancer) will take; I don't know how much "quantity" is left in my life. I only know that I have to be present, I have to seize all the family time I can, and I have to be able to enjoy the "quality" time that is before me today. And that includes bringing her to Maryland, getting her settled in her new college life, hugging and kissing her as she begins this oh-so-very exciting chapter in her life and then quietly crying when I arrive back home and my heart aches because she is not there.
Of course, it also means giving up my precious Chicken McNuggets and Starbucks shakes for a short period of time (another attack means I won't have a choice in the matter of immediate surgery), but I can handle low-fat for awhile... I think. Bring on the Smart Balance!
And there is always a bright side - it just so happens that I was on the same floor as Taryn's Grandma Julie (who is still fighting some serious health issues) so I got to see her a couple of times and I got twice-daily visits from her Grandpa Jim while I was there, which really lifted my spirits. He gets a special shout-out this week for taking the time to see how I was doing even though I know he must be exhausted dealing with his own disrupted family situation right now. It's no wonder Taryn has turned out to be a wonderful young lady - look at what a great family she is descended from!
Blessings and Love to All!
After my third gall bladder attack in 4 months, and second in a week, it has been determined that I do in fact have gall stones and my gall bladder needs to come out. This latest episode, which actually landed me in Stony Brook Hospital for 3 days, started Wednesday night while Warren and I were visiting Jackie and Joe in Breezy Point. Those three spent the night whooping it up, drinking and carousing while I writhed in pain on the couch listening to "WipeOut" with Leah and Ryan. Naaah, kidding - I was on the couch for awhile, hoping it would pass, but Jackie and Joe and Warren were quite attentive to my distress. Eventually, it was evident that I needed to get to the emergency room so Warren and I left (and now, I'm not sure we'll ever get invited back!).
By the time we got to the ER, I was at a level "10" on the pain scale, indicating in all likelihood that my body was trying to pass the stone. After some VERY effective morphine was administered (nasty unpleasant buzz but getting rid of the pain was worth it), I was admitted for evaluation and possible surgery. Thus began the by now familiar routine of blood work, monitoring, diagnostic tests ("blah blah BLAH" as Tommy Gavin would say) and my favorite part of the process - no food for 45 hours! This was a result of several factors: the doctors wanting to give my poor gall bladder a rest; the possibility of a diagnostic test that would need me to fast; the possibility of surgery and anesthesia; and a failure of the doctors (internists, GI specialists, and surgeons) to get on the same page soon enough with respect to my treatment plan.
At 44 hours and counting I advised my wonderful and compassionate nurse Maureen that if I did not get food or see a doctor within the next hour, I would call my husband and leave the hospital. And eat. After all, by then (Friday at 4:00 pm) it was clear no surgery would be taking place before Monday. An hour later - I had a menu (Stony Brook has room service style meals) and a plan. All right, the menu was low-fat foods only but by then I could not have cared less. Another 24 hours later I was going home.
So, it appears surgery will happen sometime in the next couple of weeks, although not before September. I will find out for sure on Tuesday when I see the surgeon. It is beyond the point where just following a low-fat diet will help, even if I was so inclined to adhere to such a distasteful (pun intended!) regimen. Ironically, the choices I've had to make as a result of the surgery and radiation side effects are partly to blame for this little predicament. There was no winning this one.
I did, at one point, have to make an impassioned plea to my doctor in the hospital. They wanted to do the surgery (it's pretty uncomplicated, typically done on an outpatient basis) late this coming week and I refused. I explained that I have spent almost 15 years of my life fighting to stay alive, and the last several months undergoing rigorous therapies, all in an effort to continue to enjoy the important moments in Taryn's life, and in my family's lives. I was emphatic that I was NOT going to miss taking her to college, under any circumstances, and having the surgery anytime after Monday would have impacted my ability to do so in the way I need to. I don't know what the future holds; I don't know what course this disease (cancer) will take; I don't know how much "quantity" is left in my life. I only know that I have to be present, I have to seize all the family time I can, and I have to be able to enjoy the "quality" time that is before me today. And that includes bringing her to Maryland, getting her settled in her new college life, hugging and kissing her as she begins this oh-so-very exciting chapter in her life and then quietly crying when I arrive back home and my heart aches because she is not there.
Of course, it also means giving up my precious Chicken McNuggets and Starbucks shakes for a short period of time (another attack means I won't have a choice in the matter of immediate surgery), but I can handle low-fat for awhile... I think. Bring on the Smart Balance!
And there is always a bright side - it just so happens that I was on the same floor as Taryn's Grandma Julie (who is still fighting some serious health issues) so I got to see her a couple of times and I got twice-daily visits from her Grandpa Jim while I was there, which really lifted my spirits. He gets a special shout-out this week for taking the time to see how I was doing even though I know he must be exhausted dealing with his own disrupted family situation right now. It's no wonder Taryn has turned out to be a wonderful young lady - look at what a great family she is descended from!
Blessings and Love to All!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Hello Old Friend
So, last Wednesday I go with Patti to a pre-screening of the movie "Julie & Julia," a movie about food and cooking and blogging, and end up in the emergency room the next morning with a gall bladder attack, partially a result of the food I've been eating since radiation. Leave it to Scott to point out the irony of THAT particular sequence of events in my life.
It's the second time I've had to visit the emergency room for this particular problem, so it's time to visit a gastroenterologist to prevent future problems (they did find some gallstones when they did the testing), which I probably should have done last time, but since I was in the middle of radiation treatments at the time I figured I already had enough on my plate. I do find it somewhat amusing that the diet I've had to adopt and the weight I have lost as a result of the radiation are doubtless contributory to the development of this problem. (But...I'm still not going to eat yogurt!)
Of course, it makes me wonder what else is coming down the pike - after all, it is not uncommon for people like me to actually die of complications from cancer treatments rather than the cancer itself. Quite frankly, that's just unfair - "She died after a 5 year battle with gallstones" doesn't sound nearly as impressive as "She died after a 25 year battle with cancer!" (Not that I'm going anywhere soon, mind you).
I did have my regular visit with my oncologist last week (and in a further ironic twist, she did an abdominal exam that revealed nothing remarkable). All is well. I do have to have my follow up PET/CT scan at the beginning of September but there is no indication right now that it will be anything but a routine surveillance study.
Yesterday, I got to have lunch with an old friend that I hadn't seen for a few years (although we have kept in touch via phone calls - he's not very techno-savvy!). George and I have known each other since I was 16 years old - he was a neighbor of my then-boyfriend Tommy. He was at my college graduation (I can still hear his "Wooooo!" from way back in the auditorium); I was at his first son's christening. He was with me when I got my first tattoo ("First?!") - he was getting one and didn't flinch once so I figured, how bad can it be? (Bad! Painful! Ouch!) and he taught me to play a mean game of Liar's Poker (I still carry the lucky dollar I won in some long-closed gin joint he took me to). I remember in particular a 4 day camping trip to Amagansett where we all got drunk and I got sunburned pretty badly, to the point where George and my boyfriend had to keep putting cold, wet towels on my arms and legs because I was practically hallucinating from the pain. He would drive us all around in his van (yes, it had a bed in the back - this was the 70's remember), or we would ride our Harley's together (OK fine, I was just a passenger on my boyfriend's bike) catching sunsets at the beach or going to concerts. He's not someone you would picture as my friend (does smoking, drinking, long-haired, redneck aging hippie give you the picture?), and he hasn't changed a great deal since we were 16 and 19 years old. He's not a rich guy, but he's blessed with a smart, patient wife and 3 sons that he is quietly proud of. We may not speak daily or see each other too often (he and his family live in Virginia now), but the memories of our times together make me smile (and sometimes cringe!) and it is comforting to know that I can always count on his friendship no matter what.
Chris's mom Julie (Taryn's grandma) is really struggling to get her health back, and is right now in the hospital with pneumonia (among other problems). She is frail, but very aware of her surroundings and enjoying the company of her family as she recovers. Please help her with your prayers.
Thankful, as always, for the terrific friends I have, both old and new. Blessings and Love to All.
It's the second time I've had to visit the emergency room for this particular problem, so it's time to visit a gastroenterologist to prevent future problems (they did find some gallstones when they did the testing), which I probably should have done last time, but since I was in the middle of radiation treatments at the time I figured I already had enough on my plate. I do find it somewhat amusing that the diet I've had to adopt and the weight I have lost as a result of the radiation are doubtless contributory to the development of this problem. (But...I'm still not going to eat yogurt!)
Of course, it makes me wonder what else is coming down the pike - after all, it is not uncommon for people like me to actually die of complications from cancer treatments rather than the cancer itself. Quite frankly, that's just unfair - "She died after a 5 year battle with gallstones" doesn't sound nearly as impressive as "She died after a 25 year battle with cancer!" (Not that I'm going anywhere soon, mind you).
I did have my regular visit with my oncologist last week (and in a further ironic twist, she did an abdominal exam that revealed nothing remarkable). All is well. I do have to have my follow up PET/CT scan at the beginning of September but there is no indication right now that it will be anything but a routine surveillance study.
Yesterday, I got to have lunch with an old friend that I hadn't seen for a few years (although we have kept in touch via phone calls - he's not very techno-savvy!). George and I have known each other since I was 16 years old - he was a neighbor of my then-boyfriend Tommy. He was at my college graduation (I can still hear his "Wooooo!" from way back in the auditorium); I was at his first son's christening. He was with me when I got my first tattoo ("First?!") - he was getting one and didn't flinch once so I figured, how bad can it be? (Bad! Painful! Ouch!) and he taught me to play a mean game of Liar's Poker (I still carry the lucky dollar I won in some long-closed gin joint he took me to). I remember in particular a 4 day camping trip to Amagansett where we all got drunk and I got sunburned pretty badly, to the point where George and my boyfriend had to keep putting cold, wet towels on my arms and legs because I was practically hallucinating from the pain. He would drive us all around in his van (yes, it had a bed in the back - this was the 70's remember), or we would ride our Harley's together (OK fine, I was just a passenger on my boyfriend's bike) catching sunsets at the beach or going to concerts. He's not someone you would picture as my friend (does smoking, drinking, long-haired, redneck aging hippie give you the picture?), and he hasn't changed a great deal since we were 16 and 19 years old. He's not a rich guy, but he's blessed with a smart, patient wife and 3 sons that he is quietly proud of. We may not speak daily or see each other too often (he and his family live in Virginia now), but the memories of our times together make me smile (and sometimes cringe!) and it is comforting to know that I can always count on his friendship no matter what.
Chris's mom Julie (Taryn's grandma) is really struggling to get her health back, and is right now in the hospital with pneumonia (among other problems). She is frail, but very aware of her surroundings and enjoying the company of her family as she recovers. Please help her with your prayers.
Thankful, as always, for the terrific friends I have, both old and new. Blessings and Love to All.
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