Born With a Rusty Spoon: Episode 81
...En route, I asked her to stop at a drug store so that I could purchase some lotion and toothpaste. As we walked down the aisle of the drug store, I turned to Gloria and said, "With my future so uncertain, I really don't know whether to buy a little bitty bottle or the big economy size."...
Artist Bertie Stroup Marah continues her powerful autobiography.
After leaving the surgeon's office, I rode with Gloria back to her house in Palisade. Gloria was holding back tears and trying hard to hide her fear. I handled the awful news of having breast cancer with my family's greatest weapon—humor. It was obvious that at that moment we needed all the laughs we could muster.
En route, I asked her to stop at a drug store so that I could purchase some lotion and toothpaste. As we walked down the aisle of the drug store, I turned to Gloria and said, "With my future so uncertain, I really don't know whether to buy a little bitty bottle or the big economy size."
Gloria was mortified and her mouth fell open. Then, in spite of everything, we started laughing. To this day we still laugh about the size of products we should purchase.
Reita and Mama came from New Mexico for the surgery. We spent the night after at Gloria's house waiting to hear the results. It was a difficult night to say the least. The next day, when the surgeon came in smiling, we stopped holding our collective breath. When he told us that the lymph nodes were free of cancer cells, we smothered him with hugs and kisses.
But because the cancer had been left to grow for a year I was advised that in terms of treatment I should go the full nine yards. I underwent radiation treatments that left me tired but still able to be my active self. The chemotherapy treatments were a different story. I had to endure six treatments, each three weeks apart. About the time I started to feel a little better, it was time for the next one. The treatments made my stomach feel raw and it hurt all the time. Painful sore developed on the inside of my mouth, and just looking at the IV and needle before treatments would make my stomach churn. When I took my final chemo treatment, I knew why it had to be the last. I don't believe I could have survived another one.
I only cried a couple of times during the whole experience—and I admit I surprised myself. I credit Mike for not allowing me to sink into self-pity. He would point to others who were worse off. As I became bald we laughed that I was looking more like Mike every day. Again, God was watching over me and helped me through radiation, chemotherapy, baldness, and sickness.
In spite of dealing with breast cancer I was able to paint and sell many paintings during that rough year. I've had a clean bill of health since the treatments and I believe that, when it is my time to go, it won't be from cancer.
**
To buy a copy of Bertie's wonderful book please visit
http://www.amazon.com/Born-Rusty-Spoon-Artists-Memoir/dp/1935514660/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1282226141&sr=1-1-fkmr0
To see some of her pictures click on
http://www.google.co.uk/images?hl=en&q=bertie+stroup+marah+pictures&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=5vpkTNykBtKR4gbsgJmWCg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CBUQsAQwAA
