For those of you who have been enriched
by Angie’s blog – my apologies. I am not
blessed by that muse. Angie was the
consummate wordsmith; lyrical, funny and thought provoking. I had the great honor of walking her journey
with her; sometimes as a guide, more often as a sorority sister. And now, I hope to share with you some of the
things I was privileged to witness along the way.
When I was first diagnosed by Dr.
Picozzi (who also was Angie’s oncologist) he told me something very wise. Not only did it confirm in my mind that I had
the right doctor, but it stays with me still.
Angie and I had many, many conversations about this. Here is what he said. “Most people when they think of cancer, they
think about the physical battle, how ravishing it is to the human body. But what cancer really is, is the battle for
the human spirit. If you can keep your
spirit strong, you will win. Every
time.” As my journey progressed, I began
to understand what that meant. Angie
knew this before her battle began.
Angie’s beloved father and brother died
of cancer. She understood that you might
lose the battle, but still win the war.
That war is won by the legacy you leave behind. The legacy Angie leaves us is
monumental. It includes:
LAUGHTER. Cancer is a cruel disease. It scars our bodies, steals our hair and
nails, destroys our appetite, leaches our strength. In Angie’s case – it stole her butt! That’s right – I know you remember the story
on the blog about the day she lost her butt.
Leave it to Angie to take that devastation and make us laugh. One day, while I was sitting with her during
a chemo session, she showed me her hands.
The nails had begun to turn black and lift from the nail beds. Soon, they would begin falling off. I had assured Angie that they would grow back
and showed her mine. I had just had a
manicure and I remember she looked at my nails closely and said she was not
going to wait for that. She was going to
get some Lee Press-on nails – the ones with the bling and would add some
Superglue just to make sure they stayed on!
COMPASSION. Angie and I knew a young girl, Shannon Cocke,
who died from colon cancer at the young age of 37 after a terrible, terrible
four year battle. She left behind a 4
year old daughter and two sons, ages 9 and 17, as well as her husband of 18
years. Whenever Angie would talk to me
on the phone or see me in person, the first words out of her mouth were. “How
is Shannon doing?” Nothing made Angie
cry more quickly than to hear about her struggle. She grieved for Shannon’s family and that
Shannon had not lived even half of her life yet. Most of all, she grieved for Marion,
Shannon’s mother. Many, many times Angie
thanked Our Lord that her boys were fine and healthy. She could not imagine the kind of grief
Marion was feeling. We went to Shannon’s
service together and sat next to each other.
The first thing she said to me was, “Are you going to cry?” “Oh no.”
I said. “I’ve cried all week and
I can’t cry any more.” Angie gave me
“the look” (you know what I’m talking about) and in her best Angie voice said,
“Mmmm –hmmm. Well I got you
covered.” Five minutes later when the
faucet turned on, she reached into her bag and pulled out a big handful of
Kleenex.
ATTITUDE and SASS, also known as COURAGE. My nickname for Angie was “Miss Sassy”. She might be down, but she was NOT out and if
she felt you pitied her – look out! Do
not sugar-coat the situation, she’d tell Dr. Picozzi – give it to me
straight. Like all of us, Angie
preferred to have a long life. But she
was not afraid of death. What she feared
was the indignity that our society seems to require before we are allowed to
rest. She would not put up with
that. There is so little you can control
with cancer, but she was going to make sure it did not take her dignity.
Her disappointment was huge when she
could not go to Mexico with her niece, Debra.
The day she was to leave, she ended up in the hospital with a raging
fever and dehydration. But she put that
behind her, recognizing that this was a warning that cancer was trying to get
the upper hand. She was not having it
and forged ahead.
Right after Angie’s return from Hawaii,
things took a bad turn. She learned the
cancer had spread to her liver. She came
down with a virulent e-coli infection.
A CAT scan revealed the cancer had spread further in to her back,
causing excruciating pain. The tumor in
her liver caused her bile ducts to become blocked and she needed surgery to
place stints to re-open them. In the
last conversation I had with her, two days after her surgery, she could barely
speak. But she looked at me and said.
“I’m so tired, so tired. I need to go
home.” What she meant was she needed to
go HOME, to be with her Mother, Father and Brother, to hug Shannon and to rest,
whole again and free from pain.
Angie passed away on the morning of July 26th and her
legacy lives in all of us who were blessed to know her. It was an honor to laugh with her, cry with
her, talk about all those big meta-questions and hear her talk with so much
love about her boys and her family. I
for one will be trying to live my life the way Angie lived hers – loving
everything and everyone around her, keeping a sense of humor and staying
sassy.
Thank you Angie for touching my heart
and strengthening my soul. I love you
so.
-Kris
