Short Story - Tiffany Brown
Poetry - Tamara Passey
Essay - Martha Larsen van DerWal, Margaret Turley
Please read and enjoy!
She is My Mother
by Tamara Passey
She Is My Mother
She gave me my life
If that were not enough
She taught me how to live it
With patience, with kindness
She gave me love
If that were not enough
She taught me how to give it
Without hesitation, without reservation
She gave me wisdom beyond my years
If that were not enough
She taught me how to use it
To make decisions, to face my fears
She is my mother
If that were not enough
She is my confidant, my friend
My supporter, ally and aid
My advocate, my protector
My defender and my mentor
Dog People
by Tiffany Brown
I've
heard it said that there are dog people and cat people. I don’t fall into either category; nor does my
husband. We happen to live by a dog park and as we jog by some Saturday
mornings we remind each other we would never do that— take a dog to play at the
park. We wondered how that could even be remotely fun. We didn’t understand dog
lovers. How could they keep a plastic sack in their pocket anticipating a dump
of poop and then pick it up and carry it until they found a trash can? We
didn't get it at all.
Although,
the January Annie turned ten, she became a dog person. She seized so violently
one time in the ER that the nurse in the room ran out with panic. Annie’s temperature
spiked to 106 degrees, she nearly choked on vomit, and her blood pressure dropped
dangerously low. The resulting stay in the ICU began her love for dogs. The
hospital had a volunteer therapy dog program and Annie received a visit from
“Rocky”. He approached her bed and rested
his head gently in her lap. We were not
so sure about the cleanliness of the experience and again found ourselves
exchanging glances.
Annie
persisted in her love for dogs; it’s all she wanted for Christmas that year. We
said no. We weren’t dog people. She asked Santa to bring her one. He did—a
beautiful stuffed dog with a note around its neck apologizing that the elves
only made toys. Santa hoped she would be
able to love this perfectly clean, non-shedding, non-pooping, stuffed animal. She accepted his apology and named her new
pet Daisy.
Daisy
became Annie’s companion on seizure days. When Annie turned eleven, her seizures were
less intense. We had “rescue meds” to
administer to avoid a trip to urgent care. Often, she spent a seizure day on
the couch in a drugged haze. Daisy became her pillow, and something to hang on
to. I loved Daisy. She was pretty, stayed fluffy, and didn’t mind if I threw
her in the washing machine once in awhile.
Daisy
came with us to the Epilepsy Monitoring Unit when brain surgery became a
possible cure. Annie suffered for two
days, seizing over sixteen times clinging to Daisy during the worst, and then
snuggling with her when the worst was over. Sure enough, hospital volunteers brought a
therapy dog into her room again. It entertained her with tricks and made Annie
smile. Annie left the Unit with one
request—if she was going to endure brain surgery, she wanted a real dog. We
told her we would think about it.
And
then hoped she would forget.
She
had surgery a month later. The first two weeks of recovery were hard. The doctors had us imagine being hit on the
side of the head with a baseball bat.
Despite the pain, she didn’t forget about wanting a dog. We tried
distracting her with a new I-pod touch and suggested she download a dog
app. She set up a Pinterest account
instead and pinned pictures of puppies. She emailed us links to websites
describing all types of dogs. She was
relentless—reminding us that we said we could get one if she had the surgery. I
reminded her we said we would think about
getting one. Michael even bribed her
with a laptop computer; she would not budge.
We finally had to make a decision. Could we
become dog people? We debated back and
forth. He tried to push all the
responsibility to me. “If you get her a dog, I don’t want anything to do with
it.”—and I shifted it back to him—“If you cave in and get her a dog, you will
take care of it,” until we finally agreed that if we were getting a dog, both of
us would have to help.
Two
weeks before Christmas, we went to a pet store. They had puppies of every kind
all absolutely darling. No prices were listed, but we thought they couldn’t be
more than a couple hundred dollars. A
store clerk offered to show us one. We
agreed and he took us to a small room.
We hoped he would bring the one that looked like “Lady,” from “Lady in
the Tramp.”
He
brought a brown hound dog-just as cute. He skittered around our legs. I knew Annie
would love it. The clerk left us alone
for a few minutes to decide. We imagined the dog under the tree with a giant
red bow around his neck—the perfect Christmas surprise. When the clerk came
back into the room, I asked how much.
“Dogs
like this one,” the clerk
said, “run about $899.”
I
hid my shock, “Eight hundred ninety nine dollars? How about the puppy that
looks like Lady?" I hoped they were cheaper.
“Oh, the cavalier? They run about $1700.”
Just
as he said that, the little hound dog pooped in the corner. The clerk grabbed paper towels and air freshener
before we got a whiff of the aroma, but we already were headed toward the door.
I’d rather buy a laptop.
Three
days before Christmas, still no dog. We visited a branch of the Humane Society at
the Biltmore called Petique. It sounded
so upscale; we hoped to find “Lady” there among the mutts. No Lady, but they
had a terrier-mix named Diamond. He was
house-broken they said, and good with kids. He looked a little shabby, not
quite what I was expecting at the Biltmore, but definitely in my price range—$35.
We explained he would be a Christmas surprise for our 11 year-old daughter
recovering from brain surgery. They encouraged us to have Annie meet him first.
We let go of the Christmas surprise idea and agreed. We left him there and headed home to tell her
the news—her parents were officially trying really hard to become dog people
and had found a dog they could tolerate, they hoped.
She
was so happy! I took her back that very night to meet him. Again we were
ushered into a small room. Diamond ran around in circles and kept sniffing
under the door. Annie kept calling for him, but he never came. They reassured
us that he would warm up in time. I kept trying to convince Annie he was a
great dog, but only to get the whole process over with. She mentioned he wasn't
soft. I reassured her we would have him groomed. She hesitantly agreed and we
started the adoption process.
They
wanted me to answer questions that might prompt us to return the dog. Excessive
barking? I marked yes. Peeing in the house? Yes. Furniture chewing? Yes. Disobedient? Yes. The
list went on and I continued to check every box yes. I handed the questionnaire back to the clerk.
“You know, you might not be ready for a dog,”
she kindly explained. “I’m going to keep Diamond and let you think about it for
a few days.”
Annie
didn’t seem upset that we were leaving without Diamond, she actually seemed
relieved. She later told me she liked him, but he wasn’t quite what she
expected. She wanted a dog that would be by her side like the ones at the
hospital.
A
few weeks later, my friend Cori happened to hear about our search for a dog.
She offered to let us borrow her yellow Labrador retriever to see if we liked
that type. We had him over the next day. He followed Annie everywhere and she loved
it. He only barked when the doorbell
rang and he obeyed my first “no” when he tried to come upstairs. As Annie and I walked him home that night, we
knew that was the type of dog we wanted to find. Cori informed us of the lab rescue and gave us
the website she used so we could find our own Jackson.
The
next day, school started back from winter break. It had been eight weeks since
surgery and Annie felt ready to give it a try. She still had double vision and
loud noises irritated her, but she wanted to go. It was an exciting morning. A
new year! A new brain! No seizures! We picked up her friend Morgan, so the two
could walk in together. I watched as they happily skipped down the sidewalk and
into the school and then headed home.
Two
hours later I received a call from the school nurse. Annie was crying. She had a severe headache
and wanted to come home. I jumped in the
car and had a thought: call Cori and ask to borrow Jackson. Then I talked
myself out of it. I didn’t want to bother her. I arrived at the school and
walked to the nurse’s office and found Annie inconsolable. She was so upset; her eyes swollen and red.
She explained that she concentrated so hard on what the teacher was saying that
she couldn’t keep up and when she tried to tell the teacher she couldn’t speak
and it scared her.
Borrow
Jackson, I thought again.
Annie
buried her face into my jacket and we quickly walked out to the car. “Would you like to have Jackson over?” I asked
as she wiped tears from her cheeks. She was starting to calm down and nodded yes. We called Cori, explained our situation and
she said to come by. When Jackson hopped into the van, he nuzzled Annie's neck.
She smiled and told him hello. He followed Annie inside and sat on the floor
beside her. I sat down close to her and Jackson looked over at me. I swear his
eyes said, “Let me help you.” He turned back to Annie, and rested his head in
her lap just like the dogs at the hospital did. He never left her side.
I
didn’t call Cori until about six that night. She joked that I was plotting a
dog-napping; I laughed and said I would if she’d let me! I explained how
comforting he was to her and that I was grateful for his help. I promised to
bring him home in an hour. I hung up and couldn’t believe those words were
spoken by me—a non-dog person.
About
fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Cori and her husband and their three
little kids, about age 5 and under were standing on my doorstep. She caught me
by surprise, maybe I misunderstood about bringing the dog back. Did she say she
was coming to get him?
“We
have something to talk to you about,” she said, and rushed on, “We think Annie
needs Jackson, and we want to give him to you.”
I
didn’t understand at first what she was saying. I was still trying to figure
out why she was there. She repeated, “We
want to give you our dog. You need him, Annie needs him.”
“But
this is your family dog for the last seven years,” I responded. “We can’t take
him.” Tears welled in my eyes and in
Cori’s too. She said that as soon as she hung up the phone with me, she knew: Annie
needed Jackson. She didn’t want to
discuss it further. Jackson had a new home.
Annie
never made it back to school that week. She came down with a sore throat and a
cough. She and Jackson hung out on the couch together. I have been able to talk
to him more and tell him thank you. I think he hears me and tells me he's happy
to help.
I
can't believe I am going to say this but, we are dog people now and we
absolutely love it! I proudly tucked a
plastic sack into my pocket as we headed to the dog park. I get it now. I was ready to put whatever I
needed to into that plastic baggie.
Dog
people. No, it's even better. We are dog lovers.
Motherhood an Eternal
Calling
by Martha Larsen van DerWal
Eve is often called the
mother of all living and the crown of God's creation. Her instruction was to
multiply and replenish the Earth. She left the garden of peace and beauty and
chose the better part.
Sariah,
the wife of Abraham, mourned her inability to bear children. Then through faith
and trust, in her old age, gave birth to her son Isaac. Fulfillment of
prophesy: all nations of the earth would be blessed and Abraham’s descendants
would be as numerous as the sands of the sea.
Rebecca, the Mother of
Esau and Jacob. Her desire helped Jacob to become Israel, the father of many
nations.
Rachel and Leah who
Jacob found in a foreign land. He loved Rachel with all his heart and agreed to
work seven years as a servant for her father Laban. She became the Mother
of Joseph and Benjamin - Joseph, who kept his family and nations from
starvation, after he became the overseer for Pharaoh. Rachel was pictured
by Jeremiah weeping in Ramah for her children, the decedents of Benjamin, where
they were gathered before being taken captive to Babylon.
Miriam kept her
brother Moses from Pharaoh's cruel hands by keeping a watchful eye as the baby
so precious and dear floated on the river Nile in a basket made with care. When
the pharaoh’s daughter lifted him from the water, Miriam offered the service of
a wet nurse, the baby's Mother. She nursed him and had kept him safe,
to lead the Jewish nation out of bondage.
Ruth, the Moabitess,
to Naomi spoke, “I'll go where you go. I'll lodge where you lodge,” and never
her loyalty broke She found purpose, new Faith, and her destiny, when she married
Boaz and through her lines, we find the Savior.
Hannah, who wanted a
son, and called upon the Holy One. The Lord answered the woman’s plea and
Samuel became to be. With the prophet Eli he lived learned and grew.
Here I am Lord was his reply and the Lord's prophet he became.
Esther, a simple
Jewish girl, with courage and Faith and Prayer, was chosen to join the King's
court. There she gained the King's favor and thereby saved the Jewish Nation
Elisabeth, wife of
Zacharias, the Priest, who served in the temple. She was a kinswoman of Mary
and gave birth in her old age a son John. His name was foretold by the
angel of the Lord John the Baptist, he became and preached in the wilderness
preparing the way for Him who was to come, to save.
Mary, the daughter of
Joachim and Anna. “Blessed art thou.” These words were spoken to this pure hearted
virgin. She traveled to Bethlehem and gave birth to a son and named him
Jesus, as foretold by Gabriel the angel. The angels sang, the shepherds came,
led by the star, and Mary pondered over these things in her heart. She taught
her son and nurtured him to someday to rule and reign. There is no
trustworthy history of her later years but we do know that Mary was a
chosen vessel of the Lord and the Mother of God in the flesh.
All these women from long ago played such an
important role. There is a saying that I heard from my mother, "the hand
that rocks the cradle, rules the world.” How true that is. Where would we be,
or would we be at all, if Mother Eve had not recognized the necessity of
the Fall and the joy of Motherhood? The Jewish Nation was led out of
bondage by the ingenuity of Jochebed. Moses’ mother, with the help of her
daughter Miriam, saved her child who then led a nation out of bondage. We can
look into the history of nations where women have taken their given talent to
nurture and show faith and devotion. Mary and Joseph, left the comfort of
their home once more and fled to Egypt under angelic guidance. Thus they escaped
the awful mandate that all male children under the age of two should be
killed. After the death of Herod the King they returned to their homeland.
Their son Jesus grew and waxed in wisdom and became the Savior of us all.
Yes indeed, Motherhood is eternal and women are the crown of God's Creation.
Binding Mother-Daughter Relationships During Tough Times
by Margaret Turley
Tip-toeing through a fragile eggshell mother-daughter relationship during Serena's teen years wrenched my heart many times over. With conscious effort on both parts mother and daughter patched the humpty-dumpty bond back together again over a period of ten years. This mother was overjoyed but also learned through hard lessons in the past that no-matter how well meaning and loving we are, that there are boundaries that need to be kept. Daughters want their private space, especially now that they have reached adulthood.
The debate champion daughter is no longer obligated to listen to the mother who sometimes successfully made her points in the past by declaring "This is not a debate, I am the mother." My soul fills with pride watching my brilliant daughter assert her independence. She is an activist and champions the cause of those who have been trampled by society. She reaches out with compassion and understanding. And yet, in the same breath she is so head-strong and stubborn. I'm frustrated to the core with needing to agree to disagree.
Now that Serena has been
diagnosed the strain is even tighter. I do not disagree with her selections,
but I want to be included in the decision making processes. My daughter
chooses not to listen to me, not to include me on health care choices at this
critical time even though I'm a nurse with thirty-four years experience. Thanks
to HIPPA I am prevented from barging past the line in the sand either
one of them has drawn. My daughter chooses her spouse to confide in and help
her with her cancer treatments. She fiercely demands to be captain of her own
ship.
During my nursing career I’ve
always advocated strongly for patient rights to have a say in their care.
But, it is painful when my own daughter rejects what I have to contribute. The
caregiver in me wants to say - wait a minute! Instead I need
to relegate the role of caregiver to others and as the mother respect
her privacy. Perhaps in the future that situation may change, when will decide
to ask for my help. For now I must be patient and wait for the request. I
cannot push my wishes upon Serena. She is an intelligent, adult free-agent –
not an underage child.
My passion for serving as
Administrator of Writers Unite to
Fight Cancer over the past couple of years has given me experience of
immeasurable worth. Instead of being a typical single mom of an adult child who
is diagnosed with cancer, I am informed and have a large established support
network. As author of SAVE THE CHILD I've done much research on cancer,
alternative health care, naturopathy, medical-legal ethics, cases in the news
and so forth. Throughout my nursing career I've gain much experience and
knowledge that can't be found in a book or in Google search. I know more than
the average non-health industry community members about these subjects. Still,
I'm overwhelmed with the urge to know, do more and find hope for a cure of the
brain tumor for my baby girl.
I understand my daughter's
desire to be autonomous. It’s a natural part of growing up and becoming
independent. She lives a different lifestyle than I have. I am happy that she
has the courage and to stand her ground in the face of challenges and
opposition. Though I dearly want to protect her from the grief that may be
associated with some her actions, she is past the stage that I can insist she
hold my hand while crossing the road. As mature woman she has extended that
guiding hand to others in her sphere of influence. I appreciate all the help she
has given me with website creation and maintenance, instructions on blogging
and social networking. She is a wonderful, kind and generous daughter.
It has been almost a year now
since her diagnosis. She underwent aggressive naturopathic treatments including
DCA which causes side effects like chemotherapy. The tumor grew ½ cm during
that time. Then, Serena had a diagnostic brain surgery to do a biopsy of the
tumor and underwent radiation for six weeks. She wanted my help – but not every
day, and not with me in her home. So I stayed with relatives and friends and
drove her to treatments three times a week. She was trying to keep me from
overdoing it. I clung to each and every opportunity to spend time with my
daughter and show her I supported her in every way possible. We were rewarded
with a decrease in tumor size of five millimeters.
Now she is receiving
chemotherapy. Serena was hospitalized after the first round. It was frightening
to see my brilliant daughter curled up on a bed, not able to recognize familiar
objects, unable to comprehend and having fine motor skill deficits. I thought
I’d lost my daughter. Looking back there were signs I may have recognized if
I’d been there to monitor and observe what was going on. But that is not what
she wants. Thankfully steroids have reduced the brain swelling caused from the
chemotherapy and she is back to baseline from before the chemotherapy. The
second round went much smoother, with steroids on board.
As I have done throughout the
year, I will continue to pour my efforts into Writers Unite to Fight Cancer and
to organize charitable fundraising efforts for my daughter's cancer
treatments as that is where she wants my help. I will be a supportive mother,
and feel gratitude that my daughter is receiving medical care from excellent
physicians who treat her with skill and empathy. I pray the knitting of the
membranes of our relationship will remain intact and the shell will stay whole.
I am thankful for the generous outpouring of assistance and support from
friends and family on all sides, and from people we never knew before and
anonymous donors. As stated in SAVE THE CHILD: "Cancer is the enemy, Love
is the Remedy."
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