Sheila Nevins | 06/10/2009 11:00 pm
Chocolate Chemo, by Sheila Nevins
Have you ever sat at the bedside of a terminally ill person you loved,
given comfort and learned more about your life and yourself than you
ever thought possible?
© Shutterstock
As Anna lay dying –
We laughed our heads off when the ice-cream sprinkles got stuck on her nose. The cancer had spread from her ovaries to her lungs. And then to her kidneys. She had refused treatment. Her chemo-of-choice, she said, was the Mister Softee I would bring, with the scattered sparkles. "Don’t I look silly?" she asked, wiping her chocolate nose with the crumpled tissue she always had on her night table.
"And was it worth it?" I asked her. "This life thing." And she thought for a minute and said, "I don’t think I laughed enough." We laughed at that. "I think I sweated too much of the small stuff – like burning a soufflé." "You’re a great cook," I said. "I was," she corrected me, and then added, "I don’t think I knew it would end, this life thing, but most importantly." She smiled wickedly, "I don’t think I got laid enough." "Oh please," I remember saying. "When the goo is gone the glue is gone." "You can buy that stuff," she said, "Silly child." She was two decades older than I was then.
"Are you scared of dying?" I asked. Death had openly entered the room barring euphemism. "When you get to my age," she said softly, "you know more people on the other side then you do here. It gets lonely." "Do you believe there’s an other side?" I asked. "Of course not!" she said, summoning strength. And for some reason we both found her response hilariously funny.
She was 85. I hoped to be like her when my time came. I enjoyed the rehearsal. I loved to visit her these months before the end. A dry run? A dress rehearsal? Maybe. Would I have her charm and courage? Would someone slightly behind me in time rehearse with me? Anna was precious. The battery clock near her bedside didn’t utter a sound but I heard its old-fashioned tick-tock, tick-tock and chimes rang. "I love you, Anna," I said.
I would see her the same time next Sunday. "You don’t have to come," she reminded me. "Many friends can’t bear to see me this way." "The way you is, is the way you is," I answered. She corrected my grammar. I kissed her cool cheek good-bye.
She asked me to pick up the chocolate Mr. Softee again next week. I said I would. And her voice followed me down the stairs. "And maybe could you bring some extra sparkles. The multicolored ones. They disappear so quickly."
And thus she reminded me.
We laughed our heads off when the ice-cream sprinkles got stuck on her nose. The cancer had spread from her ovaries to her lungs. And then to her kidneys. She had refused treatment. Her chemo-of-choice, she said, was the Mister Softee I would bring, with the scattered sparkles. "Don’t I look silly?" she asked, wiping her chocolate nose with the crumpled tissue she always had on her night table.
"And was it worth it?" I asked her. "This life thing." And she thought for a minute and said, "I don’t think I laughed enough." We laughed at that. "I think I sweated too much of the small stuff – like burning a soufflé." "You’re a great cook," I said. "I was," she corrected me, and then added, "I don’t think I knew it would end, this life thing, but most importantly." She smiled wickedly, "I don’t think I got laid enough." "Oh please," I remember saying. "When the goo is gone the glue is gone." "You can buy that stuff," she said, "Silly child." She was two decades older than I was then.
"Are you scared of dying?" I asked. Death had openly entered the room barring euphemism. "When you get to my age," she said softly, "you know more people on the other side then you do here. It gets lonely." "Do you believe there’s an other side?" I asked. "Of course not!" she said, summoning strength. And for some reason we both found her response hilariously funny.
She was 85. I hoped to be like her when my time came. I enjoyed the rehearsal. I loved to visit her these months before the end. A dry run? A dress rehearsal? Maybe. Would I have her charm and courage? Would someone slightly behind me in time rehearse with me? Anna was precious. The battery clock near her bedside didn’t utter a sound but I heard its old-fashioned tick-tock, tick-tock and chimes rang. "I love you, Anna," I said.
I would see her the same time next Sunday. "You don’t have to come," she reminded me. "Many friends can’t bear to see me this way." "The way you is, is the way you is," I answered. She corrected my grammar. I kissed her cool cheek good-bye.
She asked me to pick up the chocolate Mr. Softee again next week. I said I would. And her voice followed me down the stairs. "And maybe could you bring some extra sparkles. The multicolored ones. They disappear so quickly."
And thus she reminded me.
Read more about: Cancer, Death, Dying, Friendship, Health, Ice Cream, Life, Living, Relationships, Spirituality
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58 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment
Judy, I thought the same thing; however, having had cancer 3 times. I can tell you that if I ever got cancer again I would not do a thing. The treatments are horrible.
Judy, Siasp, I am a 3/4 time cancer survivor. First time I was pregnant with my son, they wanted me to abort at 5 months when they told me, I said no, I stayed in bed and had a beautiful healthy baby boy, he’s now 26. They took all my plumbing, a few yrs later they found polups and yep it was back, I had the surgery and did the treatment and went on. I’m not 30 yet at this time. the polups kept coming back but because I had the will and drive to survive I did what was needed. Skin cancer came with the gene’s, red hair, blue eyes and whiter then a kleenex. Everytime some showed up I went to the dr. Now breast cancer I was not prepared for at all. Went every year for Mamogram, no history in my family, did the exams. My breast started leaking one day in 2004, the class instructor alerted me to it. I went right over to the VA hospital and told my doctor, for FOUR MONTHS she refused to let me get a core biosopy like the Radiologist said I needed. By the time I finally got the test and approval for a second oppinion it was spreading. You have to have a refereal for a second opinion, I couldn’t afford to do it by myself.
So I get the test, it’s postitive, two days later I meet the doc’s and the next day I have the surgery, it was in the lymph system, lost all the nodes in the left arm, half the left breast (no one will help pay for reconstruction) and when through a double round of chemo and radiation. I wanted to die 90% of the time. I was alone, my kids lived over 600 miles away and couldn’t get off a lot of time to be with me, my mother was sick herself, my one sister would only come over if i’d pay her, giver her some of my pain meds, my brother never step foot into my place until the day I was leaving N Y, my older sister that’s a lost clause. The ones that were there for me were my FRIENDS, Donna,Audrey, and Marty.
I moved to NC thinking life is going to get better, I’ll be okay now. The Taxol (chemo) caused the loss of feeling in both hands and feet, weakened my bones, I’m standing at Atlantic Beach and a wave is coming not a big, bad wave, just a wave, when it hit it broke the part of the tibea (can’t spell) under the knee.
So over the yrs I developed IBS (Irretable Bowl Syndrome) which is just as bad as Chrones, and then colon cancer again. Today was my last treatment. Radiation.
I am still alone, no kids here to help, no spouse, just me and my dogs Mac and Sassie and cat Angel, I can’t die,who would walk my dogs or rub Angel’s belly.
not fighting is selfish and self centered. it’s going to hurt, treatments suck, not fighting cancer is like going into the woods and putting a gun in your mouth and pulling the triger. your decision to not fight affects your entire family and friends, it’s legal sucide, they can collect the insurance now.
I’m alone by choice, my decision to fight is a selfish one, I want to be a Grandmother and if I don’t fight I’ll never get to hold my Grandbabies.
So my advise for anyone out there, FIGHT, don’t let cancer be your rope, or gun or drive off the cliff. There’s too much to see and do and enjoy and to much love to share. Cancer is a five letter word with an attachment.
Deniseann, you brought tears to my eyes. Oh, hon, good luck to you and hope you do better than well.
Judy, there is nothing in this world to make me want to leave yet. My goal is to be a Grandmother and with the Grace of God a GreatGrandmother. I remember when my Grandmother held my children for the first time, the look and pride on her face warmed me all over. She was a good Grandmother and set a good example for me. She passed on all the old family recipes and on holidays I make her pies, and cookies, and she made the best apple fritters ever. Her mom my Grandgrandma was also awesome, she use to make me animal pancakes with home made syrup from the tree in her back yard. I"ve had a lot of crap, but I’ve also had a lot of good.
Nothing at all is going to keep me from being a good Grandma to my Grandchildren. That’s my next goal, but I can’t achive that with out the help of my children so when they read this they’ll know I really really want a grandbaby :)
Judy I don’t know if you read any of my other posting but my life has been anything but hard. But I endured and carried on, when I was old enough to escape the abuse I got out of dodge and joined the Navy. I love the Navy, and being a female in the Navy was really cool.
When you’d go home in your uniform with your rank on your sleeve, you let them all know by the way you held your head up and shoulders back with pride that they DID NOT KEEP YOU DOWN.
But being in the Navy had it’s consequences, my frist cancer was due to something I was either exposed to or something, and that was 26 yrs ago. I’ve had three other kinds since then. But the skin cancer I have to blame on my Mother, she use to put baby oil on us and send us out to play, can we say FRY.
The other cancers and the Irretable Bowl have been linked to my first cancer. My kids didin’t even know what was going on, only that I had to go to Bethisda Naval hospital for an appointment. It wasn’t until they were in their teens that two and two started to add up for them.
I refused to let them know what was going on and putting the burden of worry on their young shoulders. I let them be kids, I did what was needed and carried on
My X@@@@@husband , did nothing to help, in 21 yrs of marriage I think he cut the grass three times if I was lucky and he never sholved snow. He did help cut down the trees in the back yard because he didn’t want me playing with HIS toys.
I truely believe the stuggles of my childhood is what made me who I am, I learned to deal with the abuse, rape, abandonment, and all the other crap and it gave me a goal, to not be what the adults of my childhood were. Once I found out I was pregnant with my beautiful daught I stopped drinking, she is now 27, I have had a drink now and again, but I’m not an acholoic like the adults of my childhood. My mother took a lot of percribed meds, and I honestly don’t remember her working after I turned 13, she went on welfare, turned out her second husband (my abuser) was married to another woman on the other side of twon, and he was a cop. Life’s not been easy but I’ve learned from what’s happened, what I’ve seen, and gone through and I’m determined not to let it get to me.
What great support for the AMA!
I, on the other hand, participate in preventative medicine by visiting regularly my homeopathic doctor, accupuncturist and massage therapist. I stay healthy by eating what is best for my body’s metabolism and exercising. The AMA is good for acute situations. And I have used Western Medicine many times. But I believe in staying healthy, not rushing to a doctor to solve a health problem arising from neglect.