Mother’s Courage
By Kathy Davey
There were four children in my family when my mother succumbed to breast cancer. My older brother was 21, I was 18, my sister was 11 and my younger brother was 10.
Naturally, most of the memories my younger sister and brother have of mom are after it was discovered she had cancer.
My mother dealt with cancer for four and a half years, 30 months of which she was bedridden. She had a radical mastectomy, then a hysterectomy. By that time the doctors discovered the cancer had spread to her liver and spine. She received radiation treatment, which was all that was available at that time for breast cancer.
Mom was still in charge of the home and knew where everyone was regardless of being sick and, at times, in pain. She taught me how to cook full meals and generally keep the household going.
One time I was going to fry chicken. At that time it was still quite a bit cheaper to buy whole fryers and cut them up. I put the whole chicken in the pan and brought it and a butcher knife into my mom’s bedroom. I rolled mom’s bed up so she was able to sit up and she instructed me on cutting up my first chicken. We were both laughing so hard by the time we were done we had the whole family wandering in wondering if we had gone crazy.
The main room in our home was Mom’s bedroom. She and dad had friends over when she felt well and they would play cards on a makeshift table. If our own friends stopped in to pick us up to go somewhere, everyone wanted to at least “stick their head in the bedroom door” to say ‘hi’ to Mrs. Lien. It was never depressing around her. She was always interested in what everyone had to say.
My dad was a very dear man who loved his wife completely. They were devoted to each other. Mom was able to stay home until she died because of him. He arranged for visiting nurses to come twice a week. He learned how to give mom morphine injections and in turn taught me just in case he didn’t make it home in time for her injection. He arranged for several women to take turns to look in on Mom during the day until we got home from school or work.
He eventually had a heart attack from the stress and pressure. But when he got back from the hospital, it was as if nothing had changed. He kept to his daily routine of working and coming home to take care of Mom.
I never heard my mother complain or lament about why she had to have cancer. She never complained about the pain she suffered. This was something she couldn’t change, so she dealt with it. Once a week a priest would come to give Mom communion. Gradually he stayed longer and longer until he was there at least 30 minutes each time. I found out later he started asking Mom for her prayers for various problems.
Whenever I feel sorry for myself because I think life has dealt me a few blows, I just think about my mother and what she used to say. “Look around you. There are people so much worse off than you. Say a prayer for them and a prayer thanking God for your blessings.”
My mother was 46 years old when she died of breast cancer. That was August 1963. I didn’t see her as brave or never feeling sorry for herself because that was always her nature. I just thought of her as my mom.
UPDATE MARCH 1, 2009:
Kathy’s mother died of breast cancer when Kathy was only 18.
She wrote about how things have changed since her mother’s cancer diagnosis with both medical and support practices. She said writing her story brought back a lot of memories from 45 years ago. “As an adult, I see it better from my mother’s point of view.”
She said many people came up to her after the story ran, people with similar experiences who were thankful that somebody told their story.
Tags: Kathy Davey
