I’ve been looking back on the last year and a half, and it has become mind-boggling how many of my friends (or their close family members), family, former co-workers, and people who were part of my everyday life are now dead. I don’t really even know where to start.
Most people know that my cousin died on March 2, 2014, so almost two weeks (tomorrow). She had a horrendous fight with neuroendocrine colon cancer, with every complication known to nurse-kind. I was her ‘go to’ person (as she described me) for bouncing around ideas of what might be going on, and getting my take on what the symptoms she was having could mean. Being eighty miles away didn’t help, but I did what I could, and my standard line was “you probably need to go to the ER” or “It would be a good idea to call your doctor now and let him/her know what’s going on.” I was glad to be of some use- and it was also hard to know she was going through so much.
During the last twelve to eighteen months, I’ve looked up former coworkers to see if we could reconnect, and ended up finding their obituaries. I’ve also been informed about friends’ family members- and in the case of two particular children, it was really so incredibly sad. One died at age eleven from the same leukemia I had- less than a day after being diagnosed. Another child (8 years old) in that same extended family died from brain cancer, less than a year after she was diagnosed. She had the best treatment there is (St. Jude’s), and she still lost the fight. Even though their names are available on public ‘search’ links, I won’t post their names because they were minors- and I don’t have the family’s permission to name them. I remember some kids who died when I was a kid (friend’s brother had a brain hemorrhage, kid at school had a brain tumor, skating coach’s six kids were murdered by her husband)… but as an adult, with the experience of pediatric nursing- hearing the screams of the parents when an infant or child died back in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit isn’t something I’ll ever forget. It was the most guttural, primal PAINFUL sound I think I’ve ever heard.
I am going to name a few of the people I’ve lost in the past few years, as I have nothing but good to say about them- and they too are easily found when looking their names up. I hadn’t expected to find their obituaries, but ….
Madeline Spenrath, R.N. was one of my nursing supervisors in Kerrville, TX. She was one of the best supervisors I ever had anywhere. She maintained a bit of a strict ‘ship’…but she had a heart of gold. I reconnected with her after her breast cancer was found, and after she’d had to have her right hip removed from the socket (along with the whole leg), as the cancer had spread. It continued to spread, and she eventually died at one of the nursing homes I used to work at (it helped to know she was getting good care). Madeline was ‘good people’. She was down to earth, very knowledgable, and could get an IV into a mosquito in motion. She had amazing BBQs for the night shift crowd every year for a long time- those were great. She had someone tend the pit, and everyone brought a dish to pass. She was all about team work, and it was obvious she was an amazing team leader- and player. She wasn’t above getting her hands dirty.
I had started looking for the mom and godfather of a baby I took care of for most of the first 18 months of his life when his mom worked. I worked 2-12 hour night shifts on the weekends, and his mom worked 3-11 shifts Monday through Friday, so it was perfect. The first 3-4 months I had him 5 days a week (had the car seat so I could get errands done), then cut back to 3 days a week so I had some time off. But he was my little angel bug. He’s about 25 years old now- last time I saw him he was twelve ! Anyway, when I looked up Jae Arkeen and Dana Coy, I found their obituaries. It stunned me when I later found out that Jae had relapsed into addiction, and had elevated levels of drugs in his system that he wouldn’t have touched when I knew him. That broke my heart. He had been SO solid in recovery. It reinforced that ANYONE can relapse and die with drugs and alcohol. I really don’t think he’d mind me saying that, because he’d know it could possibly reach someone who is rocky in recovery, thinking they’re invincible with their 12-Step Program. He was the kindest, most caring guy, and thought that his godson hung the moon. He was so funny, and great to work with. He later worked in a very intense area of counseling, and I’m sure that, along with what seems like some serious instability in his addiction recovery, was very difficult. I had contact with someone who had been very close to him (that I didn’t know), via e-mail, and she let me know what happened. While it was horribly sad, there was some partial comfort in knowing it was fast- at least at the end. I’m sure there were some painful times emotionally for him to get to that place. I worked with him on an adolescent psych unit… he was great with those kids before he moved into a much more specialized area that is polarizing, and very difficult. He was outstanding with those kids.
Dana Coy (RN in several psych units over the years) had a very brief obituary. brief battle with cancer. She had been divorced from her adopted-at- birth son’s dad for years, though the son kept in contact with him- so after losing two people who were so close, I’m sure it helped to have his dad there with a long history together. Dana and I didn’t work shifts together… but we saw each other nearly every day when she dropped the baby off (starting at 9 days old since he was adopted, so not much time off for ‘maternity’ leave), and when she’d pick him up, or I’d take him to work to do a ‘hand off’ if I was working an 11-7 during the week. I liked Dana. She was very easy to interact with when I took care of her son… not high strung about things, and also appreciative of having an R.N. for a regular babysitter. I loved the baby as if he were my own. She knew that- and also knew that I knew my boundaries as ‘the babysitter’… I always asked her before doing anything with him. Whether it was a trip to the store, or just going to the apartment complex swimming pool, I made sure she was OK with it.
Another shock was finding out that Tricia Heath, the administrator (and an RN) at a really nice nursing home I worked at in Round Rock, TX back in the early ’90s had died. She was so supportive when I was dealing some personal things, and was just a kind, compassionate person, who wanted the residents in that facility to have the best possible life they could in an institution. I really cared about her, and when she and her family moved to Memphis, TN for a job her husband was offered, it was so sad to see her go. As often happens, people say they’ll keep in touch once they get settled, and then life happens, and they’re in the wind. Back then, there were no internet search engines for finding people, and it was all basically just luck if phone numbers were in the 411 for a particular city. Tricia was a great administrator- she kept the place in line for state requirements, but she also had a heart. I had a lot of respect for her.
Madeline, Jae, Dana, Tricia, and Kathy were parts of my life for a long time. Madeline, Jae, Dana, and Tricia were people I saw every day I worked, depending on the schedule I was on. I wonder how all of their families are doing. When Facebook and other internet ‘reconnection’ things were available, it was like we’d never been away from each other. I got to catch up with Madeline the most… Jae, only once with a postcard from somewhere, and Dana only briefly when her son was twelve, and I was in Austin for a week for my work; they came up to the hotel to see me one evening when there weren’t any seminars scheduled. But it was great to see her, and how much M had grown ! Tricia was harder to track down since she’d moved back to TX. I could have paid to find out where she was, but there was information on that thing that was really too invasive for just trying to send a ‘hi, how are ya?” kind of note. And then they were gone.
I stopped looking for people. I sort of don’t want to know who else is gone. If more people pop up via Facebook, or whatever, that’s great. But I think I’m done looking. It hurts.