This is the last post of Jennifer’s. Not too long after this she became to weak to do much of anything. But she kept on fighting and she kept on trying and most of all she kept on smiling. ** a side note a technical issue. If you have donated with PayPal, your donation may not have gone through, PayPal had the wrong email address, the address should be ” asearogue3@verizon.net”. So check your files to see if your donation was actually processed. some went through and some did not. If you are one of the did not get processed, then it is up to you what you would like to do now.
This site will remain. It will still be on line. But Jennifer has told as much of her story as best she could and I have tried to share it as best I could.
AND SO HERE IS JENNIFER’S LAST ATTEMPT TO HELP SOMEONE.
We all know about the ’800 pound gorilla’ that takes up residence in our living quarters wherever he chooses while we try to ignore that he’s there. I have an ‘elephant,’ and a little research on Google informed me that elephants can weigh more than 15,000 pounds — the point being that my animal outweighs your animal by several tons, and since our living room is fairly small his presence REALLY cannot be ignored!
‘My Name is Jennifer – and I’m an Alcoholic.’ It’s difficult for me to admit that. It’s a whole lot easier to say that ‘My Name is Jennifer – and I have Cancer,’ and the truth about that is that it is treatable but not curable and will probably take my life. Yea, well, so will alcohol if you can’t find a way to stop drinking, and dead is dead and maybe it doesn’t make a difference how you get there…
Except that it really does… and there is a special stigma about women who drink. We aren’t like “the Ladies who Lunch” and down a few Martinis with their Waldorf Salads – and please hold the dressing… or maybe it’s white wine with the salad and you skip all the tempting treats on the dessert cart and go home to a bottle of Scotch.
That’s my drink of choice, and four ounces at 4:30 in the morning and as many as twelve ounces after I got home and before I went to bed could have taken my life because I was drinking on top of some of the most potent Chemo drugs there are.
Call it the Grace of God or the intervention of a very caring Clinical Social Worker who made a point of inquiring about my drinking patterns one day, and then walked down the hall and told my Oncologist. I didn’t know the risk that I was taking. No one prior to Barbara had ever thought to ask me about alcohol consumption and since it was such a ‘normal’ part of my daily life, I never ventured to volunteer something I considered to be relatively unimportant.
Three alcoholic children from two alcoholic parents and still it took years before I realized or admitted I had a problem. When Barbara finished speaking with my Oncologist she told me they had agreed that I needed in-house detox treatment as soon as I could be admitted.
Looking back, I find it curious that it never occurred to me that my daily consumption of alcohol was excessive. My favorite Nurse told me that it was fine to drink with Chemo — she thought I knew she meant a glass of wine with dinner.
I hate the label “alcoholic,” not so much because of the stigma for a woman as because of the truth it forces you to confront. You can’t accept the truth of what you are without also accepting the truth of needing to do something about it — especially if you have Cancer! Or NOT doing something about it and facing the reality of an endless procession of glasses or bottles filled with amber liquid you haven’t the will to resist.
Barbara made me make a promise. I did spend 5 days in detox, and I did come home to an alcohol-free home… my husband had poured everything down the drain. Barbara said I could make decisions about the rest of my life later — as long as I swore to her by whoever or whatever I held Holy that I wouldn’t drink as long as I was on Chemo.
There is another Doctor I made a promise to — and this one is my best friend. He has literally saved my life when Cancer was on the verge of breaking my neck, and years later he found a way to radiate twin tumors without breaking the surrounding bones. He didn’t demand a promise, but quietly asked only that I give it one year before I decided whether or not to drink again. He has the most beautiful brown eyes…’drowning in eyes with flecks of gold…” and his voice is gentle and he makes no judgments — he only made a promise: “You may have Cancer, but whatever happens, WE will face it together.” How could I refuse him one single year? How could I remember his beautiful eyes and his gentle voice and the care with which he treated me, and the time he spends maintaining a special friendship, and then turn around and pick up a glass of ANYTHING ALCOHOLIC!
He said to me once “this is a disease — it’s not a human failing.” He meant to comfort me, but I HATE IT – WHATEVER IT IS! Isn’t Cancer enough to cope with?….at least it’s more socially acceptable!
I care what people think of me…maybe not strangers as much as those who are close to me, like my Husband, and my Daughter, and my Granddaughter, and the wonderful medical professionals who have gone above and beyond what I had any right to expect to do everything in their power to help me fight TWO deadly diseases that may take my life.
When I started writing blogs, each one was meant to be a chapter in what I hope someday will be a book I’m calling “Reluctant Host,” because that’s what I am to the Cancer that has invaded me. And I’ve taken a cue from Robert B. Parker who is one of my favorite authors. His chapters are short and to the point. I can deal with that. I can write about one subject at a time and eventually put them in order like stringing pearls. I can’t deal with the enormity of a ‘BOOK!’ But I want my life to count for something, and I want my death to have meaning. I want to “Write a Letter to the World that Never Wrote to Me,” because I recognize the oneness in our humanity, and even in our faults and our addictions, and if writing about my Journey with Cancer and battle with a bottle can help a stranger I will never meet then baring my soul in my writing serves a purpose. “If I can keep one heart from breaking – I shall not have lived in vain.”
THERE WAS ALWAYS A SMILE, I LOVE YOU JENNIFER, LOVE DAN
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