Skip to main content

My Heroes

My mother is a breast cancer survivor of 5 and half years. Not only was she diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer and given a grim prognosis, she survived breast cancer, aggressive chemo, and she has embraced her spiritual and emotional growth from her journey. She now helps others on their journey in a support group at the hospital. During one of these groups, she was asked to make a presentation during a local "Relay For Life." I am quite proud of her. My dad has been her biggest cheerleader. He retired to take care of her. Five years later, she is a true survivor and he was diagnosed with a giant Aneurism on his carotid artery in his brain and mortality staring at him. With the help of a great and inspired surgeon, his carotid was cinched shut and my mother took care of him while he healed. The whole time he was optimistic and calm. These are my heroes.







Comments

  1. ParkersJuly 8, 2008 at 2:05 PM

    This made me cry. They are my heroes to.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Karen, author of "My Funny Dad, Harry"September 16, 2010 at 3:26 AM

    Praise God for his healing! That is so wonderful they both made a recovery and I love that they took care of each other.

    Stopping by from Writer's Workshop. Here's mine: http://zemeks.blogspot.com/2010/09/inspired-by-marva-collins-back2blogging.html

    ReplyDelete
  3. Soccer MomSeptember 16, 2010 at 5:57 AM

    That is beautiful. Just really awesome!

    ReplyDelete
  4. theworkinghousewifeSeptember 16, 2010 at 10:12 AM

    Glad both recovered and are doing ok. You have a beautiful family.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

They Call Me Grace

I was nearly 8 years old when my baby sister was born. This was quite fortunate since I was well adept at reading. I was tired of my name. Nancy. So plain. The Sunday comics included a comic strip called Nancy. She hung out with her stupid little boyfriend named Russell, was very boring and cried all the time. Why would parents who love their child name her such a boring name? I assumed they had run out of originality by this point. I was, after all, their third child. There was Mike, then Suzy, after me they had Joey (short for Joanne) and finally Jene Marie. The "j" a soft French slur. It was fitting. We had a French surname. But clearly Jene Marie was their crowning glory. Do I hate for taking all the love from my parents and hogging it for herself? Of course not. She's my sister. She's my baby sister. But if I happen to feel the need to speak to her when she's at work, I always ask for her by using both names; Jene Marie (with the schwa). I don't want her...
22 comments
Read more

Christmas Gifts

Jill is the slice of home baked pie you long for. Her dad was a farmer. His dad was a farmer. On a hot summer day Jill would call me up to go floating down the canal or ride the slick rocks with the stream into a barely thawed pool of water. She's also the girl I called one day when I was bored and offered to drive two hours and try out this new thing called "Bungee Jumping." We did although I can't remember why . The first year after my college graduation I found myself particularly low on pride.  First of all, I was a college graduate working as a sales clerk.  Too late I discovered that a bachelors degree in sociology is equal to a high school diploma and, in some cases, a G.E.D. and got you hired at JC Penney trying to upsale with a colorful scarf.  On top of it, I'd been dumped.  It wasn't that he was the love of my life.  In fact, it was quite the opposite.  He started planning the wedding aloud and I freaked out, pointing out that we'd only bee...
17 comments
Read more

Midlife Crisis

I saw my friend, Colleen, on Friday.  I used to run into her when I went to the rec. center.  I stopped going a long time ago and asked her if she's still going.  "I haven't gone since I broke my collarbone." Okay, I'll bite. "How did you break your collarbone?" "I crashed my motorcycle when I went over a jump." "You do know you're 50 years old, right?" "Yeah. My midlife crisis make me do fun things. Want to see what I did for my 40th birthday?" She angled her leg so I could see her the tattoo on her ankle.  A four inch image of Winnie the Pooh. "Aren't you due for a midlife crisis? What are you going to do?" I've been wondering that one for awhile and told her so.  I can't get a tattoo because my kids will automatically either judge me or  view it as permission to get their own. The same goes with any extreme sport. I don't care about cars so I won't get a sports car. An affair is out. My c...
19 comments
Read more