Someone Special

Please bear with me on this post, as I struggle to tell you few things about someone very special.   

Born in the mountains of Western North Carolina, on December 21st, 1921, she didn't have an idyllic childhood.  Dragged back and forth, from her home to her grandparents, when the domestic battles were raging.  She was the sensitive one, unsure of herself.  Her younger brother, the fairer of hair and skin, was the apple of his mothers' eye.

Walking home from school one day, she was eight, he was six, when he bounced ahead, eager to show his report card to his mother, who was confined to bed, deathly ill.  That's when it happened.  A logging truck struck and killed him... right in front of her.  Her only sibling, gone.

From her bed, the mother has a "premonition" and stumbles out the door, running toward her son, somewhere in the distance.  She passes out before the confirmation has a chance to reach her.  The mother knows.  After her brothers' death, it was suggested her mother be institutionalized.  The son appeared to his mother and said, "Momma, I'm alright, I'm happy."  The mother recovered, but the little girl was very traumatized.  She refused to go back to the same school.  Couldn't bear to walk the same route that held the unbearable memories of her tragic loss.

She lost her grandfather, cut in half by a train. 

She had a nervous breakdown.

She survived Scarlet fever and a ruptured appendix, when medical care was much less advanced.

An early beau, flew his plane over her home, dropped out a few belongings, before crashing and killing himself.

Then came the lifeline... she went to work at the Paper Mill, where she also experienced her first indoor toilet.  Work helped her find purpose in her life.

She got married and relocated, to work for the Paper Mill in Texas.  After arriving and getting the required physical and chest x-ray, which led to more testing, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins disease.  She was given 6 weeks to live.  She underwent treatment and survived.

She was told she would never be able to have children.  It took seven years before she had her first and another 5 plus, before she had her second.

In 1972, after enduring a series of falls and being treated for an inner ear infection, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a small grapefruit, between her left and right lobe.  She took a 6 month medical leave to undergo surgery, not knowing what to expect after.  Would she speak, walk, be able to see, have any memories, or even partial memories?  The odds were against her being without some type of disability, due to the massive size.  She endured 10+ hours of surgery, where she had holes drilled in her skull and was cut from ear to ear across the top of her head, for a section of skull to be removed to access the tumor.  She did a brief stint with physical therapy while still in the hospital, was released and back to work a month later, stark bald, refusing to wear a wig because she said it was itchy and uncomfortable.

She retired after 40 years working for the Paper Mill, only to begin her golden years with more health issues.  Several years of medication for what they diagnosed as Parkinson's disease, was later diagnosed as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. 

She lost her ability to read, which she loved with a passion.  Later, she lost the ability to walk without help.  This very modest woman had to depend on someone to help her go to the bathroom.  Eventually, even a trip to the bathroom was out of the question and she was reduced to wearing diapers.  She could no longer eat without choking, she could barely speak and was hard to understand.  She couldn't scratch an itch or move on her own.  Body contorted, one leg and one arm drawn up, fingernails digging into her palms. 

She had a permanent feeding tube inserted in her stomach for nutrition, without anesthesia. 

When she left the hospital the last time, she came to live with me, as her husband was dying of cancer.  Never, to my knowledge, did my Mother ever say "why me?"  She had a terrific sense of humor and could even muster a demonic sounding laugh during what I would have considered "major" indignities. 

She was brave beyond belief. 

She passed away on April 18th, 1997. 

Mom, I love you and miss you!