Today marks the second
anniversary of the death of one of my best friends, Valerie. We first met in
1984 after she and her husband moved back to the area from Michigan. I had
moved here in 1983, and so I had not grown up with her. We got acquainted
through our church and Christian school
Because her husband needed
to take some classes to get his permanent NYS teacher certification, he went to
classes two evenings a week. At the time
Val and I worked at our church’s Christian school – I was still single. It was not uncommon for us to decide that we’d
like to go out for supper occasionally.
Val was one to rarely want to choose.
It seemed that whenever we’d head out, I would ask where she wanted to
and she usually would say, “Doesn’t matter to me.” One time, for something a little different,
we decided to go to the gym at church and shoot baskets from different
spots. What we would do is take turns
calling out the name of a restaurant in Cortland, and then we would take our
shots. Missed. Missed.
Missed. It seemed like we’d run
out of options before we got a basket made – not quite sure why we did not try
a lay-up or foul shot . . . I do not
remember the final choice from that evening, but I remember the fun we had
figuring out where we would go.
Another thing that Val and I did for a few years was to host what we called the "Almost Annual Almost Spring Thing." The weekend our husbands were off to watch the NYS basketball finals, we'd invite our lady friends over for food and fellowship. To not have to worry about having enough to eat, each guest was asked to bring a food item to share. Val and I would take care of the paper products and beverages. Initially, we thought the time would be spent in eating, playing games, and maybe watching a DVD (probably video back then); but all we ever did was eat and visit.
Val was a friend who, with
Patty (now my sister-in-law), would often be a help to me when I was ailing big
time. I lived by myself here in town for
twelve years, and there were times that I needed their help. One time was the period of time in which I
was recovering from major surgery that kept me house-bound for a number of
weeks. Another time was after I had “majorly”
dislocated my shoulder playing volleyball at church – I was literally HEADED to
a wall and put my arms up to protect my head.
Occasional meals as well as helpful rides for appointments she – and Patty
– helped with.
When I began to spend time
with Dennis, then Val and I would sometimes be joined by the guys, usually going
out to eat somewhere. We’d have the guys
sit up front, as about all they would do is talk sports. Val and I would do some chatting, but we also
would poke a little fun at the guys.
Over time, Dennis and Brian became very good friends – and still are.
The Hulls and we two also worked
together at church on different committees.
To us, we weren’t just friends, we were Christian friends. We attended the same church, and we were
involved in various ministries of the church.
Eventually Val left
teaching and took a part-time job at the local library. That was a job she enjoyed, as she loved to
read. It was a job that worked well – no
pun intended – for what she was about to encounter.
In early 2002, Val was
diagnosed with breast cancer. I do not
know all of the specifics because I never asked. I remember her impending surgery in which the
DRs were not sure how extensive it would be, as they would not be able to
confirm their suspicions until then. My
father happened to be at the same hospital for hernia surgery in the same
out-patient area where Val was that day.
Brian came by to see Dad while Dad was waiting to be discharged. (Val was sleeping.) I went over to where Val was, as I knew that
she and Brian did not get the news they were hoping. She had had a single mastectomy and would be
staying overnight.
I remember Val’s going
through chemo. It made her nauseous,
from the day of her infusion on into a few more days each time. She dropped out of sight during that
time. Because she and Brian lived way
out in the country, Val often would come into town and stay at her parents’ while
Brian was at school. She and Brian
preferred no visitors, and so we stayed away, sending cards and notes from time
to time to stay in touch. Eventually she
got through her chemo and settled into getting herself built back up. Her doctor did not recommend radiation
therapy, something her family now questions from time to time, especially Brian.
Hindsight is always 100%, but he is not convinced that the
doctors did all they could at the start for Val. Val did hormonal therapy – had a hysterectomy
to do away with what could pose a risk to her with taking hormonal therapy.
Val also became very picky
about what she ate. She would go as far
as she needed to to be able to purchase food that did not have hormones that
would feed her problems.
Her energy returned. She got involved in the church. She resumed work at the library.
I remember when I heard, a few
years after that, that Val’s cancer was back.
This time it was in her bones.
She had been struggling with being comfortable and sitting
comfortable. Finally, it was determined
that she had cancer again. This time the
doctors again used chemo, but that was it.
I remember Val’s saying that in some ways, the chemo was easier; yet I
recall the problems she had with her feet and the cracks on the bottoms of
them, which were painful. She’d wear
soft, wide sandal shoes when she needed to wear shoes. Again, she lost her hair. She said to me, though, that this time she
was not as paranoid about things as she had been the first time. One, she knew more what to expect; two,
progress had been made in the field of medicine.
The cancer got back into
remission for awhile, but it was not too long before it returned. It had spread into other areas of Val’s
body. She did what she could for
treatment, but then she gave up when it seemed that nothing was going to work
any more.
The last time that she and
Brian went out with Dennis and me was about two months before she died. Our tradition was to go to an ice cream stand
that serves soft ice cream and get whatever we felt like getting. We would do this Labor Day weekend. We could tell that Val was not feeling all
that great. Tiredness seemed to be her
constant companion, but she was game to go.
When Val decided that
enough was enough, after one more trip to the hospital, hospice was set up and
she came home. It was not many days
after she came home that she passed away.
Why do I think of Val? It goes beyond all this that I have already
shared. Just a little more than 14
months after Val’s death from breast cancer, I was told I had breast cancer –
it was not just in one breast, but it was showing signs of starting in the
other. I had noticed a lump in the fall
and thought of putting off getting it checked out until spring, but I could
hear Val’s voice in my head telling me that was foolish. Don’t wait.
I didn’t.
Val’s parents have been faithful
in their prayers for me. They often sent
notes, dropped by with cookies, or called me to see how I was doing. Val’s mother said to me early in all of this
not to second-guess my decisions. It
would be easy to do, but don’t. Val’s
sister-in-law, who helped often with Val during her illness, was a resource for
me. She also was one of my drivers from
time to time. She was the one who gave
me my buzz cut when I knew my hair was starting to fall out. Brian has also shared some things with me
about Val that I did not know, to help me to know more what to expect. He also was a great help to Dennis, since
they were – still are – best buds.
I sometimes wonder when Val’s
parents see me what runs through their minds.
Our treatments were different. My
situation, at least initially, was more widespread. It seems that God’s people prayed me through
surgery, chemo, and rads to the extent that I did not have as difficult of a
time as Val did. I think this is what
has caused Brian to say to us that he, and the rest of the family, do not
believe the doctors did as much as they could have at the start for Val. I think that this also is what prompted Val’s
mother to say to me, “Don’t second-guess yourself.”
It is a weird feeling to
have the same disease a best friend had that ended her life. It makes me think . . . Will my treatments
make a difference in my outcome compared to hers? If not, how soon will I know? I think that our being best friends and our
having this dreaded disease in common will keep Val forever in my mind. That was a good thing in late 2011, as it
motivated me then to get to the doctor.
I sometimes wonder if I did enough to know and understand Val's health issues as she was going through them; but then I remember how it seemed the family kept a lot of it to themselves. That was how they were. Sometimes I ask things now, and I think they more readily give me answers than they would have then -- why? Because I have the same disease.
