From left to right: John, Janet, Pam, Pat, Kathy, Mike, Millie, Dick Francis

When I was a little girl, I thought I would live forever.  I thought my parents would live forever and everybody around me was expected to live a very long, long time. At a fairly early age, I came to know the realities of facing death.

I was born into a large family with a mother who ruled with an iron hand and a wise heart.  My sweet father and all of her six children obeyed my mother most of the time in order to keep peace in the family.  Basically, according to mother’s rules, if you kept your room clean, did your chores, arrived promptly for meals, and attended church with the family every Sunday and Wednesday, you were a pretty good kid.  At our house, if you didn’t obey the rules, the “fanny paddle” was the most popular form of capitol punishment.  I have to admit, the fanny paddle and I were well acquainted!  I wasn’t very good at keeping my room clean, and when it came to washing dishes with my three sisters, we would begin to sing and then our hands would literally stop.  Fortunately for us, mother didn’t seem to mind that we took three or four hours to do the dishes just as long as she heard the sweet sound of music coming out of the kitchen.  Arriving promptly for meals presented somewhat of a problem for me in high school when I began doing volunteer work down at the local March of Dimes office after school.  And, since I was doing “charity work” I figured mom wouldn’t mind if I arrived home late occasionally for the evening meal. Wrong!  

I did attend church on a regular basis with my family and after church on Sundays; my mother often took us to visit the sick and elderly members of our church who were what mom called “shut-ins”.  These older people were bed-ridden for years.  Mother would have us sing for them.  And, after a proper amount of time had passed and our stomachs were growling for mother’s chuck roast or fried chicken, she and daddy would gather up their brood and we would load up for home in the family station wagon.  Then, she would always say, “How lucky we were to be healthy and able bodied”…And “that we had a responsibility to others who were less fortunate”…concluding with her final statement and question – “It’s easy to love the lovely, but who will love the forgotten, the sick or unloved people in this world?”  One day I answered my mother by saying “I would.” My mother believed that I would, too.  Later, when I became a non profit development officer, I would bring my problems home to mom.  And, she would always listen carefully and then she would say to me “Pat, I know you. You’ll find a way.” And, more often than not, I did.

My father was a rather quiet man but someone you could always depend upon.  Each one of us kids would lay our heads over the kitchen sink on Saturday nights and he would wash our hair.  It was a real treat to have Daddy wash your hair. Since daddy wasn’t much of a talker, these times just to be with him were special. One of my favorite memories of my daddy happened when a food drive was in full progress at church. I begged him to take me up to the store to buy plastic tumbler cups for the poor children.  I just knew nobody had thought of that!  I was six years old and very practical.  We arrived at the store just minutes after they had closed.  But to a little determined girl like me, that was no reason to go home empty handed.  So, I pleaded with Daddy to knock on the door some more until finally the manager came out.  My Dad explained my dilemma and with a wink of an eye, the kind man gave me the cups as a donation to the food drive.  This was my first of many donations to come and I owe it all to parents who practiced what they preached!  In high school while running for Student Council, my dad stayed up late at night to make campaign signs that read, “Vote for Pat…. She Cares!!” He was a man who preferred to “show” his love instead of talk about it.  I always wanted to be like my Dad when I grew up.   He encouraged all of the kids to play sports and I took up golf at an early age, which pleased my father.  Of course, I really didn’t learn to play just to please my father…I noticed that all the cute boys played golf and that was the best reason a teenage girl needed to take up any sport, in my humble opinion!  

My parents worked as civil servants and dad was in the Air Force Reserves by the time I was a young woman.  We didn’t have a lot of money, but as mother told us… “we had a lot of love!”  When the church bought a ranch just north of San Antonio outside the little town of Comfort, we would have family picnics down by the Guadalupe River…grilling hot dogs and hamburgers over a campfire and cooling large watermelons in the rushing river water.  An old dentist built a cabin up at the church ranch, and for some reason decided to sell that one room cabin with a sleeping porch. We begged Daddy to please, please find a way to buy it!  Well, for the sum of $1,000 over years and years on a pay-out plan, we finally owned “the cabin”.  Mother loved to say that we were going to live in “Comfort” on every weekend and summer day that we could! And, we did!

Back at our house in San Antonio, each night as soon as the kids were tucked in, my mother and father would brew a pot of coffee and watch the Johnny Carson Show.  It was finally their “quiet” time together.  To listen to their soft voices and smell coffee brewing as we kids drifted off to sleep was one of the most secure feelings I have ever known, and I mourned greatly the last night Johnny Carson was on television because of that special childhood memory.  

Meals were important occasions in our home.  We ate together as a family.  In the morning, at the table we prayed and read a daily devotional before one fork was lifted. At the evening meal, grace was said again and then starting with my father, each of us would be given an opportunity to talk about our day.  No television was allowed to interrupt this special family time … and of course, as I said earlier, it was important to be on time!!!

Before long, I was a senior in high school, VP of the Senior Class and an active member of the Student Council.  As chance would have it, one day the President of the Student Council was invited to a citywide meeting of the March of Dimes.  Unable to attend, he asked me to go in his place.  I went and it was a life changing moment.  We met in a great big room at the old Gunter Hotel downtown.  I remember that the lights went down, and a film came up.  It was about children with polio at first and then children who had birth defects.  What a positive message the March of Dimes had to tell about conquering polio and now, how they had turned their energies to helping these children with birth defects.  It was the most thrilling moment of my young life – to think that I could be a part of this important mission.  It had struck a chord within me.  I just had to join the fight against birth defects, and I did.  

I took a bus down to the March of Dimes office every day after school and did whatever I could do to help – stuff envelopes, count money, clean up the storeroom (which would have really surprised my mother!).  I requested that the President of the Student Council make me the official school representative to the March of Dimes Youth Council and before you know it, I was Chairman of the Council and then the Texas State Chairman.  I walked in the first Walk-A-Thon and raised as much money as I could because I believed with every fiber of my being that this was truly the best work I could ever do.  

After high school, I started college and met “a man”.  This was another special feeling in my life and I was torn between two passions.  As many young girls of my times, I eventually gave up my personal dreams and the continuation of my college education for marriage.  

We moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida where my husband was a medical salesman.  I took a job at an insurance agency and found the nearest March of Dimes office.  Even though my time was limited, I got involved with the Teen Age Program as an advisor.  But, then life took a sudden and unlikely turn for the worse.  

I was just 22 years old when my doctor found a black mole on my back.  He called a surgeon who immediately said that I needed to check myself into a hospital as quickly as possible.  Astounded and scared, I told my husband.  He didn’t act like it was much of anything and said that he would drop me off at the hospital the next morning, but he couldn’t stay because of pressing business appointments.  Little did I know that he never intended to come back.  Alone and scared, I walked into the hospital that morning numb from the shock of my health problems and my husband’s aloofness.  They did the surgery and took a portion of my upper back that was 3 inches deep and wide.  The tests came back positive for melanoma cancer.  Because the doctors knew my husband the medical salesman, they decided to call him first with the news.  It wasn’t very good.  They estimated that I had about 6-8 months to live.  People who have found themselves in similar circumstances have told me that what happened next wasn’t all that surprising – my husband never returned to the hospital and moved away from the city where we lived.  

After three days had gone by, the doctors couldn’t wait any longer – they had to tell me the bad news.  I remember very clearly that the surgeon and my personal physician stood next to the bed.  My doctor held my hand while they told me that it didn’t look good and I didn’t have many treatment options.  Chemotherapy was to “prolong” my life but not “save” it.  With all the severe side effects, I chose not to take chemotherapy.  Why?  I wish I could say that I had a good answer for that one, but mainly I was young and vain and didn’t want my hair to fall out!  And besides, it wasn’t going to save my life anyway.  I signed the papers refusing treatment and a friend came and took me back to my apartment.

 Because I lived in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida … I loved going to the beach.  And now, I spent a lot of time there; sometimes I would stay all night.  The tides would gently roll in and then roll out, reminding me there was a natural order to life and I had to trust that my God knew what He was doing with me. 

This is the way I looked at my situation.  Being an optimistic person, I counted up all my blessings.  First, I had grown up in a wonderful family who loved me and gave me great memories that a lot of kids didn’t have. I had laughed a lot; had climbed trees and swam rivers and ran through the country like a wild Indian in the summers with my sisters and brothers; sang harmony with my sisters, knew what it was like to feel passion in my life for a great cause and for another human being; had the use of my arms, legs and some parts of my brain were working pretty good. All in all, I didn’t have much to complain about.  And, I knew where I was going and my God would be there waiting for me.  Still, I sure was scared and I didn’t want to worry my parents, let alone tell them that my husband had left me.  For a while, I managed to keep it a secret.  But, this is the kind of secret that can’t be kept long from the people who love you.

My mother called me one day and announced that she knew something was wrong – just knew it!  How are mothers able to do that anyway? Their abilities are profound to know that one of their young ones is hurting.  She guessed, all on her own, that my husband had left me.  I wouldn’t hear of her taking time off work and away from the family to come down to Florida to help me, so she sent my sister, Pam, who at the time was in college and doing well. I was still under my doctor’s care.  Weeks and months passed and Pam and I would go to the beach, which was very calming to me.  The doctors told me what to look for – lumps and bumps were to be reported immediately because they would be the signs that the cancer had spread.  I kept going to the beach at night (the doctors had warned me out of the sun).  One night, with Pam along, I drove to the beach and randomly picked a spot to park.  We got out and walked down to the ocean’s edge.  I was feeling pretty down.  I looked out and saw no boats on the horizon, no stars in the sky and the water was all cloudy and murky.  I commented to Pam how ugly things appeared to be on this night.  And Pam said, “Pat, this is you…right now things don’t look so good, but in the morning the sun will come up, the boats will be out on the horizon, and the water will be clear.  Be patient. God’s not through with you yet.  You’re going to make it, I just know it!” 

Every two weeks I reported to my doctor that I had no lumps or bumps.  I kept going to the beach. Funny thing was I was feeling pretty good!  I guess my “beach” therapy along with my sister’s attitude was having a good effect on me.  The days and weeks and months passed by, and nothing happened.  Every doctor’s appointment, I would ask the same old question, “Am I going to be alright?”  Every cancer patient asks that question because something inside you just has to know.  But, my doctors couldn’t tell me the answer. 

I decided the answer was within me.  Did I have anything that I was suppose to do before “checking out” of this world?  That’s when the deal making faze kicked in.  As anyone who has found themselves in this position knows, you start to deal with God in a whole new way.  This is how it works.  If You let me live, I will do this and that. I was no exception.  I also found myself angry with God for allowing this to happen to ME of all people – I didn’t deserve to die – I was too young to die!  Next, I played “ignore it and it will go away”!  But when I kept coming back to the beach, the lesson was always the same – the tide would gentle roll in and out and even the sound of the waves seemed to tell my soul that life has a natural order.  I finally gave in to that “natural order” and accepted the fact that what would be – would be.  It was at this time that I forgave my husband. It seemed that I didn’t have any room in my life for hate…so the forgiveness was more for me than him.

Every day was a special gift and every morning when I woke up and checked for lumps and found none, I would promise myself that I would enjoy that day to the fullest and go out and help somebody…and then the days led to weeks…and the weeks led to months…and the months to years…and strangely enough, without chemotherapy or more surgery or pills or treatments of any kind, my body’s lymph system kicked into high gear and fought off the cancer and won.  

I know today a lot of people believe in a thing called “visualization” for cancer patients – I guess mine happened at the beach while I wasn’t looking!!!  

God decided to take me up on my “deal making” while facing the prospects of an early death. What I didn’t know at the time was He had big plans for me!! So I thought if I could just help one person, my life would not be lived in vain…so for every day that I was physically able to get up and out of bed, I began my own “small acts of kindness” …it gave me purpose and great joy.  That led me to one of the reasons I was really sent here … to work for charities whose whole purpose was to change the world to be a better place…and connected me to a cause much bigger than myself.

Years later my ex-husband contacted my mother and told her that an Episcopalian priest who he confided in told him that he needed to find me and beg for my forgiveness.  My mother proudly told him that I had not died and that I was working in Austin.  She gave him my phone number.  I was shocked when he called. After all, it had been quite a few years since he left.  He explained that he had confessed to this priest what he had done. He was now asking for my forgiveness.  I told him that I had forgiven him a long time ago … in fact during the first six months after my diagnosis.  He thanked me again and again.  Then he wanted to know if he could see me.  I said “no”.  There was no turning back in my life by then. 

I knew I was saved for a reason and my commitment to finding my path forward didn’t have anything to do with him.  It was a life choice for me.  I also decided never to bring children into the world that I might not have the time to raise.  I live with my prognosis to this day with the knowledge that I was saved for a reason and every day that I wake up I know He isn’t done with me yet!

EASY TIRAMISU RECIPE

Ingredients:
1 – 8 ounce package cream cheese

1 – 3.4 ounce box instant French Vanilla pudding mix

1 1/2 cups milk

1 – 8 ounce container Cool Whip, thawed

1 package crispy biscotti lady fingers

2 cups cooled strong brewed coffee*

1/4 cup dark cocoa powder or chocolate bar shavings

Instructions:
Beat the cream cheese until creamy.

Whisk together the pudding and milk. Let is set slightly before adding to the cream cheese. Beat until creamy again.

Fold in the Cool Whip gently.

Dip the lady fingers in the coffee one at a time and place them in the bottom of a 10-inch square baking pan.

Once you have the bottom covered in cookies, spread half the cheesecake mixture on top.

Repeat with another layer of cookies and top with the rest of the cheesecake. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

Sprinkle with cocoa powder or chocolate shavings and cut into 16 squares.

Notes* To make this an adult version, use 1&1/2 cups strong coffee and 1/2 cup brandy or Kailua to dip the cookies in and Enjoy!

INSPIRATION:

I AM GRATEFUL FOR WHAT I AM AND HAVE.

MY THANKSGIVING IS PERPETUAL.

-Henry David Thoreau