My most vivid memory.

Kristie Walker

Mrs. Zehner

English 111-MOG

Reminiscence rd 3

28 April 2014

My Most Vivid Memory

Like an alarm, the ringing phone woke me on that morning 5 years ago, earlier than I planned. That ring was as loud as the scream of news that came out of the phone when I answered it.

My best girlfriend Terri had been put in the hospital; how terrible it was to be in that cold place Christmas morning. This was when you were supposed to be home, warn and happy, surrounded by your loved ones. I rushed into her room and sat down on the foot of her bed. The doctor came in with the news of what he discovered. He put the X rays on the wall with the light showing through them. He showed us the spots on the lungs that were atrocious, and explained she had Small Cell Lung Cancer. Then he said that she was terminal and Small Cell hides and is impossible to get them all. So, there was never the hope of remission for it. (Apparently, she had it for a very long time.) He also informed her that she had tumors on both kidneys and her spine.

I was sick with panic and instantly the tears came. Terri grabbed me and held me tight, and she said in my ear” Kristie don’t cry for me, I have lived more in my years than most 80-year old's have in their lifetime.” In that moment she never shed one tear. The strength this woman had throughout the years doesn’t compare to anything I watched her go through in the next few months.

I had been close to the family for years and all the tragedy they went through, and this just saddens my heart. Terri was a twin to a woman named Sherri. Sherri had MS and committed suicide about 10 years ago. The youngest, Rocky, is a little off his rocker. He was the one who found his sister and that really didn’t help his mental state. Sherri left a note, and then she went to the garage and started the car and fell asleep and never woke up. Some years before her death the oldest brother was killed in a car accident right after their father found out that he had cancer for the second time. He beat it once but came out of remission with full blown cancer shortly after Terri’s death. Her mother has Alzheimer, and her oldest sister takes advantage of their mother. It is truly madding.

Rocky had errands to run the day Terri was to get her port put in, so he dropped her and I off at the Hux Center in the middle of Terre Haute. She was very sick, and she had shaved her hair at this point. It was starting to fall out, and she decided that SHE would be the one to make herself bald, cancer wasn’t taking her hair away from her. I was grateful to be with her because Rocky never came back for us. I decided right then and there that this would not happen to her again.

As I went through this journey with her for the next few months, I watched everyone disappear from her life. I was ashamed of what she called family and friends: I dropped everything and never left her side. We spent most of our time left together getting her affairs in order, so her daughter wouldn’t be overburdened. Though her daughter, was well in her twenties, she was mentally like a child, and didn’t have the concept of a check book or how to pay bills. We then made all the arrangements for her passing; one of the hardest things I ever had to do was planning the death of my best friend.

It didn’t take long before the chemo and radiation took her so far down that she wasn’t able to work anymore. I was able to get trustees and churches involved to help her with her bills and arrange for food stamps so she wouldn’t starve during her last days here. I took care of her will and tied up loose ends for her. It took three months to get this all done, and it turned out to be the rest of the life she had left.

I can’t even describe how weak the chemo made her and how it killed my insides to watch it. There were times she was so weak and sick that I had to carry her frail body to the car. There was a time on the way home once that she had to pee so badly that I had to pull over to the side of the road. I managed to find a way for her to use my lap to sit on without getting pee on me. It still makes me giggle a little to remember her smiling and she said, “Stupid Bitch!” I am sure we looked pretty silly.

Towards the end of her time, it was getting warm, and it felt like spring. She loved to be outdoors, and I was able to take her fishing because she loved being in the boat. Her time was getting short now and she was on so much medicine the cancer was taking her mind. We took many road trips before the ride became too painful. She lost so much weight that she was just skin and bones. At the very end of her time, she developed a smell about her that I couldn’t place. I gave her baths, put on lotion and brushed her teeth but the smell never went away. I later discovered that it was the smell of death creeping in for her soul.

I think it was the last appointment she was able to make it to that I took the doctor aside and asked her what that smell was. The doctor sat me down, she took my hands into hers and said to me, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this sweetie, but she is dying, and her body is dying.” I guess I had to be told in order to believe it. I kept holding on for a miracle. I loved her and didn’t know what I was going to do without her.

That smell got bad enough that even she started to notice it. Then we had to rush her to the hospital where she grew even worse. It became clear that we were just waiting for her to be ready to leave this life.

A long time had passed since she had opened her eyes and she couldn’t speak, but when she finally did open her eyes, she held out her hands and wanted to be held. I laid down beside her as I often did while she was her sickest. Her daughter came in with the news that every last detail was done. Terri pulled her close, and she kissed her lips and whispered in her ear and said,” It’s all right momma, I did everything you asked me to do. I love you momma and it’s all right to go now.” As I lays around her, I felt her let go of that last long exhale of life.

The machines went off and her heart went still. She was gone now and the only sound in the room was the sound of the flat line of her un beating heart. The poor woman didn’t even have enough air to say goodbye.

I think of Terri every day; I miss and love her dearly. I could have written a novel of the memories and every detail of her illness and passing. This was my first experience with death happening in my arms. May you rest in peace, my best friend, Terri Hoffman.