O que aconteceu com a minha boneca?

Minha familia em  1975

Em 1974 os meus pais, como muitas famílias dos Açores, pediram visto para imigrar para os Estados Unidos ou Canadá.  A família da mãe morava no Canadá, a família do pai morava na América.  A imigração era o desejo de muitas famílias como uma oportunidade de melhorar a vida de suas famílias.  O primeiro visto aceito foi para os Estados Unidos da América.

 Meus pais venderam sua casa para conseguir o dinheiro que custaria para nos trazer para esta terra melhor.  Mamãe comprou um material e fez roupas novas para nós.  Eles compraram as passagens de avião e embalaram duas malas.  Isso é tudo que eles levariam com eles, exceto aquelas roupas novas e lindas e sapatos novos que usaríamos para ficarmos bem quando chegássemos na América.

 No dia 31 de Janeiro de 1975 veio o táxi buscar-nos para nos levar ao aeroporto de Ponta Delgada onde embarcaríamos num avião e deixaríamos tudo o que os meus pais sabiam.  Eles estavam nos levando para a terra das oportunidades e de uma vida melhor.

 Papai tinha 39 anos e a mãe 34.  Eles empacotaram seus 7 filhos, Cidalia 14, Luis 13, Olivia 8, Joe 6, Eduardo 4, Nelia 3 e eu tinha 9 anos.  Que jogada corajosa é pegar e mover sua família com duas malas e as roupas do corpo.  A família do meu pai estava esperando por nós e meu tio nos pegava no aeroporto e nos levava para a casa da minha tia Gloriana.  Ela e o marido tinham um apartamento pronto para nós em uma casa que possuíam, mas a mãe e o pai teriam que encontrar trabalho imediatamente para pagar o aluguel e sustentar a família.  Eles não tinham habilidades e não falavam o idioma.  É preciso coragem e coragem para fazer essa mudança, mas principalmente o desejo de dar uma vida melhor à sua família.

Naquele Natal, Natal de 1974, pudemos ver São Nicolau pela primeira vez num evento onde o meu pai trabalhava para a companhia de eletricidade. Foi tão emocionante, estávamos todos vestidos com as nossas roupas de domingo para irmos ter com São Nicolau que nos ia dar o nosso presente de Natal. Antes desse ano, sabíamos de São Nicolau, mas nunca o tínhamos conhecido. Todos os anos, na véspera de Natal, decoramos a chaminé e colocamos uma meia ou um sapato na esperança de que São Nicolau nos deixasse um presente enquanto estávamos na missa da meia-noite. 

A véspera de Natal foi uma grande celebração enquanto festejávamos o nascimento de Jesus. Depois de decorar, a mãe cozinhava e depois vestivamo-nos e íamos à igreja para a missa da meia-noite. O pai teria sempre de ir para casa. Quando voltávamos da missa da meia-noite, encontrávamos o nosso presente de São Nicolau naquela meia. Nosso presente pode ser um pedaço de fruta, pastilha elástica, um apito, brinquedo pequeno, ou um balão; Mas naquele ano conheci São Nicolau na festa e recebi a minha primeira boneca a sério. Era bonita. Carreguei aquela boneca comigo para a minha viagem à América.

Não conseguiria viajar com a minha boneca quando estivéssemos no avião. A minha irmã Nelia tinha 3 anos, por isso não queria estar no avião, chorou que queria ir para casa, mas calava-se se pudesse brincar com a minha boneca. Por isso, ordenaram-me que desse à minha irmã mais nova a minha boneca para que ela se acalmasse. Ela tinha a sua própria boneca, todos nós tínhamos uma boneca nova, mas ela queria a minha. 

Só quando estávamos a passar pelo aeroporto de Logan. Neste lugar estranho, assustador e excitante, com muita gente e luzes que pedi à minha irmã para me devolver a minha boneca. Ela deu-me a minha boneca, mas a boneca não tinha cabeça. Ela arrancou a cabeça e deixou parte da minha linda boneca no avião para nunca mais ser vista. Amei a minha linda irmã mais nova do que alguma vez poderia imaginar e ainda bem que a amei, porque nunca me esqueci que ela deu a cabeça à minha boneca.

Era um tempo de excitação, medo, lágrimas e felicidade. Os meus pais sacrificaram-se tanto para nos trazerem para a América e darem-nos uma vida melhor. Hoje, sou uma enfermeira de sucesso, e todos os meus irmãos têm sucesso. Os meus pais tornaram isto possível para nós. Sacrificaram-se para nos dar a nós e às nossas famílias uma vida muito melhor do que teríamos tido na pequena aldeia da Ilha de São Miguel. É um lugar bonito que adoro visitar, mas ainda hoje há muita pobreza nessa bela ilha e o acesso aos cuidados de saúde não é o que é na América. Agradeço a vida que os meus pais tornaram possível ao fazerem esse sacrifício e até pelo medo deles de saberem que têm a coragem de nos levar a todos no avião para uma terra desconhecida. Lembrar-me-ei sempre da minha primeira boneca a sério, mesmo que a tenha por pouco tempo. Perdoei a minha irmã por deixar as minhas bonecas num avião, mas vou provocá-la para sempre e ela ainda me deve uma boneca nova.

Escrito por: Idalina Colburn

no dia 4 de Fevereiro, 2021

What Happened to my doll?

My Family 1975 , first family picture ever taken 

    In 1974 my parents, like many families of the Azores applied for visa to immigrate to either the United States or Canada. Mom's family lived in Canada, dad's family lived in America. Immigrating was the desire of many families as an opportunity to improve the life of their families. The first visa to be accepted was to The United States of America.

My parents sold their house to come up with the money that it would cost to bring us to this better land. Mom bought some material and made us all a new outfits. They purchased the plane tickets and packed two suit cases. This is all they would take with them other than those pretty new outfits and new shoes that we would wear so that we could look nice when we arrived in America.

On January 31, 1975 the taxi came to pick us up to take us to the airport in Ponta Delgada where we would board an airplane and leave everything my parents knew. They were taking us to the land of opportunity and a better life. Dad was 39 years old, mom 34 . They packed up their 7 children, Cidalia 14, Luis 13, Olivia 8, Joe 6, Eduardo 4, Nelia 3, and I was 9 years old. What a brave move to pick up and move your family with two suitcases and the clothes on your back. My fathers family were waiting for us and my uncle would pick us up at the airport and take us to my Aunt Gloriana's home. She and her husband had an apartment ready for us in a home that they owned, but mom and dad would have to find work right away to pay rent and support their family. They had no skills and didn't speak the language. It takes guts and courage to make this move, but mostly it took the desire to give your family a better life.

That Christmas, Christmas of 1974, we were able to see Saint Nicholas for the first time at an event where my father worked for the power company. It was so exciting, we were all dressed up in our Sunday clothes to go meet Saint Nicholas who was going to give us our Christmas gift. Prior to that year, we knew about Saint Nicholas, but we had never met him. Every year on Christmas eve we would decorate the chimney and put out a sock or shoe in hopes that St. Nicholas would leave us a gift while we were at midnight mass.

Christmas eve was a big celebration as we celebrated the birth of Jesus. After decorating, mom would cook and then we would all dress and walk to church for midnight mass. Dad would always have to run home. When we came home from midnight mass, we would find our gift from saint Nicholas in that sock. Our gift might be a piece of fruit , gum, a whistle, small toy, or a balloon; but that year I got to meet saint Nicholas at that party and I got my very first real doll. She was beautiful. I carried that doll with me for my journey to America.

I would not be able to travel with my doll once we were on the airplane. You see, my sister Nelia was 3 years old, so she did not want to be on the airplane, she cried that she wanted to go home, but she would quiet down if she could play with my doll. So I was ordered to give my little sister my doll to play with so that she would settle down. She had her own doll, we all got a new doll, but she wanted mine.

Nelia, age 3

It wasn't until we were walking through Logan airport; in this strange, scary, and big exciting place with lots of people and lights that I asked my sister to give me back my doll. She gave me my doll, but the doll did not have a head. She had pulled her head off and left part of my beautiful doll on the airplane never to be seen again. I Loved my beautiful baby sister more than I could ever imagine and its a good thing I loved her, because I have never forgotten that she be-headed my doll.

It was a time of excitement, fear, tears, and happiness. My parents sacrificed so much to bring us to America and give us a better life. Today, I am a successful nurse, and all my siblings are successful. My parents made this all possible for us. They sacrificed to give us and our families future generation a much better life than we would have had in the small village in the Island of Sao Miguel. It is a beautiful place that I love to visit, but even today there is still a lot of poverty on that beautiful Island and health care access is not what it is in America. I am thankful for the life my parents made possible by making that sacrifice and even through their fear of the unknows having the guts to get us all on the airplane to a land unknown. I will always remember my first real doll, even if I only had her for a short time. I forgave my sister for leaving my dolls head on an airplane, but I will tease her about it forever and she still owes me a new doll.

"A Poor Girl in a Rich Girl's Dress"

A poor Girl in a Rich Girls dress
Mom and dad on their wedding day
Aunt Lucia as the flower girl
November 14, 1959

    Living in the United States today, its hard to imagine what life was like for young couples living in the small Island of Sao Miguel, Azores 60 plus years ago. I had a very old , cracked,  and faded photo from my parents wedding day. This photo is the only one they had and has been scanned and copied. 

In that day poor people of the island did not have cameras or video to document their special events; but moms godfather's wife had lived in America, so they had a camera and he snapped a picture of the couple as they were coming out of the church. Three years later he brought that picture to mom after he had a visit to America where he had it developed. Mom treasured this photo; but since dad worked away from home to the other islands for weeks at a time, he folded this only photo they owned and carried it in his wallet. The photo obviously faded and cracked over time.

I sent a friend who does photo restoration my faded copy to try to preserve this memory. This led to conversations with my mother who is now 79 years old and married to this same man for 61 years. I asked her to describe what her dress looked like so that the photo restorer could assure that she had the dress restored correctly 

    Here is the story behind this dress. A story that is not unlike many from that time. 

    Mom was 18 years old, dad, 23. When asked about the dress, mom vividly describes it and is excited to share the whole story. "It was so beautiful" she explains with excitement. She explains that she felt like a princess; "A poor girl in a rich girls dress".  It was a beautiful satin with  lace roses that were just slightly darker. It had long sleeves and covered her neck as it was not appropriate to have any cleavage or neck showing. She wore a vail that covered her face. After the priest married them and said that he could kiss his bride, mom explains, a little shy; "your father lifted the vail and kissed me on my forehead. 

    In that day when a girl was to marry she would ask a couple to be her godparents for the sacrament of marriage. Her mother suggested that she ask her baptism godfather since his wife had come from America and they might be able to afford the wedding band or dress that often was gifted by the godparents A couple of weeks after she asked the couple to be her godparents for marriage, his wife sent for her and showed her the most beautiful material . She asked her if she liked it for her wedding dress. The couple had  hired a professional seamstress who would make her dress.  Dad wore a simple, but elegant black suit that he purchased himself in the city. It cost him a months salary, but he looked so elegant in his suit. "It was like we were rich" she explains. They could not afford wedding bands. Mom's was borrowed and dad did not have a wedding band.  Everyone talked about her beautiful dress for a long time. Mom was so excited to tell me the story of their wedding and courtship. 

   In that time girls were to show respect for their family and there was no public show of affection. In fact, the first time that I remember seeing a couple kiss on the lips was on television when I was 9 years old after we came to the America.. I remember asking mom why she and dad never kissed liked that. 

    Dating was not what we understand as dating. Boys would date a girl by talking to her through an open window or veranda  in her home. The girl would be inside the house, the boy on the outside. Mom explains , "there was a little kiss snuck in now and then" at that window or after church.  This meeting up through the window would lead to falling in love. Mom was young and she was "crippled". She had polio when she was 5 years old. Polio residuals led to one leg shorter than the other and a foot contracture, so she walked with a limp. A girl like that was not perfect and no man would want a crippled girl. Dad knew that she had this disability but he liked her anyway. After a few months of dating , dad  decided that he was going to ask her to marry,  But remember, she was not perfect, she was the crippled girl. This caused a problem. His parents did not approve.  He could not marry a crippled girl, What if she could not cook and clean for him or have children for him.  

    When dad insisted that he was going to marry this women, his parents threw him out of the house. He worked in the city with moms brothers all week, so her mother and father allowed him to sleep in the attic with her brothers on the weekends. Her  mother explained that they must marry right away as it would be shameful; and what would people say ?  Mom was not sure she wanted to marry him, after all she didn't know him very well yet, and he said he loved  her, but did he really? why would he want a crippled woman? She wasn't sure she even loved him. Mom goes on to tell me that even though his parents did not originally approve, they grew to love her and her mother in law, my grandmother,  was a saint who was so good to her and helped her so much. 

    She was known as crippled, but this is a women that with a foot contracture, bearing weight only on her toes,  still managed to walk everywhere, take care of her family, carry and birth 9 children at home with no real medical care, work long hours in the mills after coming to America and never resting or complaining, She lived through so many heart breaks including losing two infants both in her arms, two miscarriages, an emergency hysterectomy, and a hard life without the conveniences that we have today.  Life was hard, but she never gave up and worked hard to raise her family. Today she suffers with some health issues, but she remains the strongest woman I have ever known and I am thankful for her strength and determination. 

    This poor girl in the rich dress deserved that beautiful dress. This young couple are now rich in family and love. Through all the hard work, tears, sweat, good times and bad times, they created a huge beautiful family who are very close. They just celebrated 61 years of marriage. 

Mom and dad with the family they created at their 60th wedding anniversary 
November 14, 2019

Uma pobre rapariga com vestido de uma rapariga rica.

Ve

     Morando nos Estados Unidos hoje, é difícil imaginar como era a vida para os jovens casais que viviam na pequena Ilha de São Miguel, Açores, há mais de 60 anos. Eu tinha uma foto muito velha, rachada e desbotada do dia do casamento dos meus pais. Esta foto é a única que eles tinham e foi digitalizada e copiada.           Naquele dia, os pobres da ilha não tinham câmeras ou vídeo para documentar seus eventos especiais; mas a esposa do padrinho   da mãe tinha vivido na América, então eles tinham uma câmera e ele tirou uma foto do casal quando eles estavam saindo da igreja. Três anos depois, ele trouxe aquela foto para a mãe, depois de uma visita à América, onde a revelou. Mamãe valorizou essa foto; mas como o pai trabalhava fora de casa para as outras ilhas por semanas a fio, ele dobrou a única foto que eles possuíam e carregou-a na carteira. A foto obviamente desbotou e rachou com o tempo.

  Enviei a um amigo que faz restauração de fotos minha cópia desbotada para tentar preservar essa memória. Isso levou a conversas com minha mãe, que agora tem 79 anos e é casada com o mesmo homem há 61 anos. Pedi a ela que descrevesse como era seu vestido para que o restaurador fotográfico pudesse garantir que ela o restaurou corretamente. 

  Aqui está a história por trás deste vestido. Uma história que não é diferente de muitas daquela época. 

   Minha mãe tinha 18 anos e meu pai, 23. Quando questionada sobre o vestido, a mãe o descreveu vividamente e ficou animada para contar toda a história. “Foi tão lindo”, ela explica com entusiasmo. Ela explica que se sentiu como uma princesa; "Uma pobre garota com um vestido de garota rica". Era um lindo cetim com rosas de renda ligeiramente mais escuras. Tinha mangas compridas e cobria o pescoço, pois não era apropriado ter qualquer decote ou decote à mostra. Ela usava um véu que cobria seu rosto. Depois que o padre os casou e disse que podia beijar a noiva, explica a mãe, meio tímida; "seu pai ergueu o véu e beijou-me na testa. 

   Naquele dia, quando uma menina estava para se casar, ela pedia a um casal que fosse seus padrinhos para o sacramento do casamento. Sua mãe sugeriu que ela pedisse ao padrinho do batismo, já que sua esposa tinha vindo da América e eles poderiam pagar a aliança de casamento ou vestido que muitas vezes era oferecido pelos padrinhos. Algumas semanas depois de ela ter pedido ao casal para serem seus padrinhos no casamento , sua esposa mandou chamá-la e mostrou-lhe o mais belo material. Ela perguntou se ela gostava de seu vestido de noiva. O casal contratou uma costureira profissional que faria seu vestido. Papai usava um terno preto simples, mas elegante, que ele mesmo comprou na cidade. Custou-lhe um mês de salário, mas ele parecia tão elegante em seu terno. “É como se fôssemos ricos”, explica ela. Eles não podiam pagar as alianças de casamento. O da mamãe foi emprestado e o papai não tinha aliança. Todos falaram muito sobre seu lindo vestido. 

    Mamãe estava tão animada para me contar a história de seu casamento e namoro. Naquela época, as meninas deviam mostrar respeito por sua família e não havia nenhuma demonstração pública de afeto. Na verdade, a primeira vez que me lembro de ver um casal se beijando foi na televisão quando eu tinha 9 anos, depois que viemos para a América. Lembro-me de perguntar a mamãe por que ela e papai nunca se beijaram assim. Namoro não era o que entendemos como namoro. Os meninos namoravam uma garota conversando com ela através de uma janela aberta ou varanda de sua casa. A menina estaria dentro de casa, o menino do lado de fora. Minha mãe explica: "havia um beijinho escondido de vez em quando" naquela janela ou depois da igreja. Esse encontro pela janela levaria ao amor. Mamãe era jovem e ela era "aleijada". Ela teve poliomielite quando tinha 5 anos. Resíduos de poliomielite resultaram em uma perna mais curta que a outra e uma contratura no pé, então ela mancou. Uma garota como aquela não era perfeita e nenhum homem iria querer uma garota aleijada. Papai sabia que ela tinha essa deficiência, mas gostava dela mesmo assim. Depois de alguns meses de namoro, papai decidiu que iria pedir a ela em casamento, mas lembre-se, ela não era perfeita, ela era a garota aleijada. Isso causou um problema. Seus pais não aprovaram. Ele não poderia se casar com uma garota aleijada, E se ela não pudesse cozinhar e limpar para ele ou ter filhos para ele. Quando o pai insistiu que ele iria se casar com essa mulher, seus pais o expulsaram de casa. Ele trabalhou na cidade com os irmãos mães durante toda a semana, então a mãe e o pai dela permitiam que ele dormisse no sótão com os irmãos nos fins de semana. Sua mãe explicou que eles deveriam se casar imediatamente, pois seria uma vergonha; e o que as pessoas diriam? Mamãe não tinha certeza se queria se casar com ele, afinal ela ainda não o conhecia muito bem, e ele disse que a amava, mas será que é verdade? por que ele iria querer uma mulher aleijada? Ela não tinha certeza se o amava. Mamãe passa a me dizer que embora seus pais não aprovassem originalmente, eles passaram a amá-la e sua sogra, minha avó, era uma santa que era tão boa com ela e o ajudava 

   Ela era conhecida como aleijada, mas esta é uma mulher que com uma contratura no pé, suportando peso apenas nos dedos dos pés, ainda conseguia andar por toda parte, cuidar da família, carregar e dar à luz 9 filhos em casa sem nenhum atendimento médico real, trabalho longas horas nas fábricas depois de vir para a América e nunca descansando ou reclamando, ela passou por tantos sofrimentos, incluindo a perda de dois bebês em seus braços, dois abortos espontâneos, uma histerectomia de emergência e uma vida difícil sem as conveniências que temos hoje. A vida era difícil, mas ela nunca desistiu e trabalhou muito para criar sua família.

   Hoje ela sofre de alguns problemas de saúde, mas continua a ser a mulher mais forte que já conheci e sou grata por sua força e determinação. Esta pobre garota com um vestido rico merecia aquele lindo vestido. Este jovem casal agora é rico em família e amor. Através de todo o trabalho duro, lágrimas, suor, bons e maus momentos, eles criaram uma enorme e linda família que está muito próxima. Eles acabaram de celebrar 61 anos de casamento.

A moment into the past shared with my own grandchildren: Life as a child in the Azores

Last year I had the opportunity to take my two oldest grandchildren to the street where I lived when I was a little girl. A street on a small island off the coast of Portugal, the village is Feteiras in Sao Miguel, Azores.  I explained to the kids that we all lived in that little house. The street is made up of houses made of cement and brick with a big field at the bottom of the hill. the field leads to the ocean.  Zachary wanted to know where did I play? Well, how to explain to children who have so many toys, video games, tablets, internet, televisions in every room that we did not have any of those things. How do you explain that we made our own toys out of sticks, rocks, dirt and that we played hide and seek and chased each other in that field?  We did not have a car, a bicycle, a skate board., or a scooter.  We walked everywhere including school. There was no school bus to take us to school. We walked to church every Sunday as a family. For family fun and fun with our neighbors the moms came together on the front step with a radio powered by batteries and listened to shows on the radio. I can't remember what the shows were, I imagine they were some kind of novella and sometimes it was music. The children played together in the street while the parents listened to their novellas. I do remember that often there were chickens running around too and we normally were barefoot as shoes were reserved for school and church. The babies were usually in the mothers arms and the men were often away working or if they were home, they were having their home made wine or moonshine. There are some memories of these times ending badly when dad or one of the other men would drink to much and treat their wives badly. That was pretty common. Women were not treated very well by their husbands. It took many years  (weigh into adult hood),  before I was able to understand that this was cultural and socioeconomic. It was a hard life for families. 

I did get to go in that little house on one of my visits a few years ago. The current owner invited me with my niece and daughter in law to come in to the house. There were some updates, but that small attic upstairs where we all slept was as I remembered, except that it seemed so much smaller. 

It is a small house made of brick and cement. the front door opens into a long hallway with a tile floor, but in my earliest memory, the floor was cement. There is a small room on the right and another small room on the left. The room on the left was a bedroom that my parents used occasionally, but it was reserved for when they had company from the US or Canada. Although they did sleep in that room when there was a new baby. I imagine to keep the baby from waking up the rest of the kids. There was a small crib in the room. Mom was pregnant every year, so imagine, there were other times that they slept in there instead of the small attic with all the children. The room  on the right was small and I remember all of us sitting in that room listening to the radio. There was no television and up until I was about 8, there was no electricity. The room was light  by a kerosene lamp. there was another open door area with a curtain that led to the two room attic where we all slept.  At the end of the hall was a door that led to a small kitchen. There was a stove and a table and chairs, To the left was a open chimney area with counters made of cement. Mom cooked in this open wood burning oven, mostly I remember her making bread. Then there was a door to a small back yard. There was no swing set or toys in that back yard. Every piece of yard was used for planting and chickens. There was a small clothes line and a basin with a scrub board where mom washed all the clothes including cloth diapers. They were not cloth diapers bought in the store, they were made by mom and my grandmother. There were usually two children in diapers at any given time, since mom had 9 babies by the time she was 31 years old. 

The memories came rushing back when I walked in this little tiny house. What a gift to have the opportunity to walk in there as an adult. I remembered it being so much bigger. Then, the gift of sharing a moment on the street and on that  field with my own grandchildren. Zachary was 9. The same age that I was when we left that little house in our best outfit and two suitcases for a family of 9 and took a taxi to the airport to move to the US. That was the dream. We were leaving for a better life. More to come about that life. 

Idalina (Linda) 

With Zach and Leah where I used to play
November 2019

With Zach and Leah in Front of my childhood home
November, 2019

No mutation

Liver lesion has been ablated and I have recovered. I was hoping that the genomic sequencing on the liver lesion would show a mutation that could be targeted by a new medication. Unfortunately, I did not have the mutation.  I will stay on Ibrance in the hope that it’s still working, although progression to my liver means that it was not doing enough, so I have now completed loading dose of faslodex injections and will now get them once a month.  We will  repeat my scans in a few months and keep fingers crossed that my bones continue to show improvement and that there any no new liver lesions or spread anywhere else. This is second line treatment in two years and there are still some good options for the future, so, MBC , I am living with you,  but you need to behave. I will continue to live my best life. 

I remain stronger than cancer 

Linda  (Idalina)

Saying goodbye to a patient pandemic style

Yesterday, I snuck onto one of the inpatient units to say goodbye to a patient and fellow breast cancer warrior . Hospitalization today is very different than it used to be because of covid 19 precautions. Patients have to make end of life decisions with family meetings held on zoom. This approach leaves out the important human touch of holding a persons hand and hugging them when they are forced to make the hardest decision of their lives. The decision to focus on comfort at the end of life instead of active treatment, The thing is that in most  cases, as  this case, the decision has already been made by your body that is no longer able to tolerate treatment. The difference is that now, the patient is left alone in that bed after the doctors and nurses walk out and the zoom meeting has ended. This is the part of the pandemic that many don't see or understand. 

Luckily I wear an employee badge and know how to make my way to the nursing unit. We are not really allowed to go see a friend in the hospital during the pandemic, but K has been my patient for the last 2 1/2 years. She is a beautiful 54 year old woman who until 2 1/2 years ago was living her normal life without concern for her health. She had a lump on her breast . She didn't think much of it until it started to cause some sores on her breast.  She actually had breast cancer that had spread to her skin and bones and eventually  spread to her liver. Sound familiar? Now, please, for those who love me and are reading this blog, don't panic and think that I'm writing this because I am dying. K's cancer was much more advanced than mine at diagnosis two years ago. The benefit of working as a breast cancer nurse is that I recognized my symptoms as abnormal a lot earlier. K is now in complete liver failure and waiting for  bed at the inpatient hospice unit. 

After a family meeting , on zoom.  I had the opportunity to go see her and hold her hand. I couldn't hug her, but holding her hand was the next best thing. I'm so lucky to have this opportunity to help her by allowing her to at least  see a familiar face , even with the face mask, goggles and gown she recognized me right away and was relieved to see someone she knew because even her oncologist was only able to participate in this discussion on zoom since she too is quarantined at home. My heart goes out to K and  and her family. Making the decision to change the focus to comfort care is hard enough when you have your family physically at your side, I cant imagine how much more difficult it is when the pandemic does not allow your family to physically be present. K is waiting for an open bed at the inpatient hospice center where her family will at least be able to have limited visitation. Tonight, I pray that K is comfortable and that a bed will become available at hospice for her soon. I did hear from her family that two family members, her son and sister,  were being allowed a 30 minute visit at the hospital today. Thank you lord for allowing her this opportunity to have them be able to get in today to hold her hand  and give her a hug, even if only 30 minutes. 

Saying goodbye to a dying patient has become even more difficult during the pandemic. 

K,,,and all those suffering alone in the hospital tonight, I pray for comfort, peace, and dignity. 

Linda (Idalina) 

I am and remain stronger than cancer