Between the songs I
posted on Fame Games (doing quite well, I might add), the gigs at Kimbro’s, the
buying and selling of rare musical instruments on Ebay, I was keeping busy. The
next mountain to climb was Daniel’s Bar Mitzvah slated for October 17,
2009—another year to go. His mother and I traded off taking him to Congregation
Micah on Sundays and we knew he would do great when the time came for his torah
portion. Morgan was anticipating the second ceremony knowing his would be not
only the next Bar Mitzvah, but the last one. It must be hard being the youngest
of three boys. Both of his brothers had a one-on-one experience with me on our
trips to L.A., and soon it would be his turn. Unfortunately, with the expense
of the Bar Mitzvah looming, it was going to be impossible to leave that summer,
when he, as his brothers had been, ten years old. Little did I know, the
ominous news I would soon receive would put a damper on everything.
In the middle of
August 2009, Donna was lying in bed next to me with a worried look on her face.
I asked her what was wrong and she said she wanted me to check something on her
left breast she had noticed a week ago. She ran my hand over a lump the size of
a half dollar and I screamed, “HOLY SHIT! How long has that been there?”
The next morning
Donna made an appointment at her GYN, and the next thing we knew she had
another appointment at a surgeon at Williamson Medical Center. Ironically she
was recovering from chemotherapy from a stint with lymphoma herself and when we
met her, she had a bandana covering her head. This damned disease is rampant!
The doctor asked Donna if she was busy tomorrow since she wanted to bypass the
biopsy and remove the lump. Benign or malignant, it would be best to get rid of
the thing. On August 20th, my good friend, Doug Fieger’s birthday
(who had been diagnosed with cancer some years earlier but seemed to be on the
road to recovery) I was outside the hospital waiting on news from the surgeon.
I was so nervous I was smoking a cigarette (a roll-your-own) when the phone
rang, the surgeon told me in no uncertain terms that it was a tumor and was
malignant. I looked at the cigarette in my hands and felt disgusted that I
should be smoking when I heard the news that my wife had breast cancer. I
tossed the ciggie down and crushed it under my boot. I wanted to cry but
couldn’t—I guess I was in shock. I think I stayed that way for at least a year
afterwards. The prognosis was scary since the tumor had gone beyond the margins
which means that it was spreading and they had also found a second in the same
breast. She had to have surgery to remove the breast—maybe both.
How could this
be happening to her? There is no history of cancer in her family. If anyone
should have it (knock on wood ten times) it should be me. My mother and father
both had breast cancer, and my father had died from a sarcoma of the lungs in
1989, two months shy of his70th birthday. I tried to think of all
the reasons why. Maybe it was in the plastic bottles she would drink from
everyday? It couldn’t have been her diet, and she didn’t smoke. What the hell!
In a letter to
her sister on September 1, Donna wrote: Saw the plastic surgeon today who will
do the reconstruction. He spent a lot of time with us and explained the whole
procedure and explained which option is best for me. It's going to be more
lengthy than I thought as immediately after the mastectomy they have to put in
an expander which stays in for about 4 months and is gradually inflated by
injecting saline every week or two. They have to stretch the remaining skin and
muscle to make room for the implant and then when it's the right size they
remove the spacer and put in the permanent implant. It looks like the
surgery will be Sept 16th or 17th as the 2 surgeons can't
coordinate it until then. I see the oncologist on Fri so I won't have any more
new information until then. I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact my
hair's going to fall out but I've talked with a couple of people who have just
gone through it and they said the chemo wasn't as bad as they thought it would
be.
Donna was going
to lose her hair from the chemotherapy (scheduled to begin after the surgery in
late September), that was a given, so to lessen the shock I bought an auburn
Joan Collins bob style wig on Ebay—not some cheap thing, but a nice one from
real human hair. The plastic surgeon, Dr. Behar, was a guy from my neck of the
woods, New York, and we hit it off right away. There were times when we were
talking so much about the east coast, and what it was like being a Jew in the
Bible-belt in his office, Donna had to interrupt while pointing to her chest,
“Uh guys, I’m the patient here, remember?” We both looked sheepishly at each
other with guilt. Want to know what kind of woman Donna is? She was planning on
scheduling her chemo on Thursday afternoons so she could miss only one day of
work (Friday) and be back at it by Monday. I don’t know how she could do it. I
would tell her later, she didn’t have to go back until she felt better or until
the chemo was over but she said, “I just want to go back to my normal routine,
all of this cancer stuff will only get me down if I have to sit around the
house all day dwelling on it. Plus, I hear working can be the best thing you
can do to get on with things.” How could I argue with that? I mean, she has got
to be the toughest person I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t think I could be
that strong. What a hero! The hardest part for her was how she was going to
tell the children. Before the surgery we sat the three boys down in the den and
I said that there was some very upsetting news, but that everything was going
to be okay. I can’t remember the exact words but we told them that their mother
had cancer and that the doctor was going to cut out the bad stuff and would
have medicine to fight anything that was left in her body so it wouldn’t
spread. She has the best doctors we could find and they think your mom will be
fine after awhile. “She is going to be very weak boys, so anything you can do
to help out around the house will be appreciated. Please try not to worry.”
All three of
their reactions were different. Jonathan became tearful since he was the oldest
and knew the dangers of the dreaded disease. Daniel asked if all her hair was
going to fall out with a concerned look on his face. Morgan, the stoic one,
said nothing.
The surgery on
the 17th went well and after a day in the hospital she was released.
I tried the best I could to wait on her hand and foot while taking care of the
boy’s needs. I had no idea she did so much and I was exhausted by bedtime and
fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
In a second
letter to her best friend, Irene, on September 30, Donna wrote: Hi, here's the latest
news on this weeks appt's. I'm feeling well and doing better every day.
Beginning to work on getting my shoulder movement back and using it a bit more.
It's amazing how much you use your shoulder and chest muscles for driving,
especially parking. We went to a "College Night" at Jonathans high
school last night and I drove there but had James drive back as I was a bit
sore, probably from the doctor appt earlier that day and having drain removed
and expanding process started.
Here's
the plan:-
Wed
30... nothing except Bar Mitzvah work/planning.
Thurs
1... day surgery to have port placed under the collar bone and into a vein to
have IV chemo through.
Fri
2...Daniel birthday, whole body PET scan, 2 soccer practices.
Sat
3... Haircuts for the boys, 2 soccer games (both at same place at 9am luckily).
Sun
4... Hebrew Sunday School.
Mon
5... nuclear medicine Heart scan at the hospital (I'm beginning to glow in the
dark!!)
Tues
6th...plastic surgeon appt, school soccer tryouts for Daniel.
Wed
7th... Nothing as yet except Bar Mitzvah stuff.
Thurs
8th...Start chemotherapy.
Haven't
anything else planned beyond that at this point except for the the Bar Mitzvah.
In between all this we (or rather James) is trying to paint, do some
tiling, steam clean carpets and I'm trying to organise (she
spells it the British way) a Bar Mitzvah
and party for 100 people. The house is a wreck and my mum, dad and you arrive
on the 13th, Susan on the 15th and Jonathan's friend Sam the 16th. Robbie and
Carol are coming on the 14th but they're going straight to Memphis to do a
little sightseeing and then back to Nashville. They're staying in a hotel and
so are Max and his girlfriend and Emily. We're just trying to take it day by
day just now and hoping everything falls into place.
Today is also Daniel's birthday. It's hard to believe he's 13 already but
in some ways he seems very grown up. You wouldn't recognize him. When all 3 of
the boys are together they are told that they are like the Jonas Brothers. (do
you know them?). Of course they hate that as they say they are a girl band.
They'd much rather look like Ozzie Osborne. YUCK.
Anyway, hope you booked enough time to read all this. Hope you're
staying well, staying happy and staying busy. Too much time on your hands is
dangerous and bad for you. At least that's what I tell James when I need him to
do something!
Talk with you soon. Thanks again. Love you.
Donna XXX
To
be continued . . .
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