You Wouldn't Know Death Was Lurking over my Shoulders ... If I Didn't Tell You

    

Gloria Faye Brown Bates ... can you see Death looking over my shoulder?  Can you see the warrior in this photo?  Can you see that all isn't as it appears?  Did you know that for 16 years I couldn't look at these photos?

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You Wouldn't Know Death is Lurking over my Shoulders ... If I Didn't Tell You

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@grannygee

I have been digging up old photos that I'm even fortunate enough to still have.  The house fire of December 28, 2004 burned all of our belongings.

The photos were in a big suitcase upstairs in the big, historic house we lived in.  The man who owned the house put a new box on the outside of the house, didn't replace the old, out-dated wiring in the house.  He told us after we moved in.

The stairs were burnt, and unstable after the fire.  I wanted to go up those steps to see if there was anything at all to save in Tommy's room, and to get the photos.  The fireman wouldn't let me when it was burning.

I waited until I was the only one at the house to salvage through the rubble to find anything that was left to show we had a life there.  There was very little.  I meant to go up those stairs ... go up them I did.

The sad thing was we were looking for what was ours in the burnt shell of the house, on the ground ... everyone was driving by, stopping to see what they could find that was ours ... and taking it with them.

People were stealing from a house that burned down ... stealing anything they thought was of value.  Some people didn't know me ... I watched them steal.  Why didn't I tell them to go?

I was in shock ... if you've never been in shock ... I can't tell you how it does one.  You aren't yourself ... not at all.  You are in a world where everything is quiet, far away ... you are in a vacuum that is trying to protect you.  You see, hear ... at a distance even if you are ... right there.  Your soul is numb.

I would never have the nerve to let my face be seen doing at someone's home that had just burned down ... stealing.  The sad thing was ... I knew some of them ... if you are reading this now, I won't ever forget.

Not only that, our neighbors were also, telling us who stopped to look for anything to take away with them.  Shame on you for stealing, kicking someone in the face while they were down.

Truthfully, it doesn't matter any more ... I let go of that anger several years ago ... when Tommy died, I forgot everything.

I went up those stairs, grabbed the big, heavy suitcase.  I prayed that the weight of it, and myself ... wouldn't go crashing through the steps.  The suitcase was dripping water ... water from the firemen's hose.

The photos were ruint ... there was black, wet and messy charring, and soot.  I took the photos out and began trying to separate them.

They had stuck together ... it took weeks to salvage as many photos as I could.  I had to cut, trim photos.  I put them in a pan of water to try to get them apart.  It was awful, but I managed to save a lot of them.

So when you see damage of any kind to a photo of mine ... know that it's from the house-fire.  I'm lucky I have them to show we had a life prior to the house fire.

I found about 4 photos I never could look at closely.  Why?  Well, they were taken at a time I didn't want photos taken of me.  I didn't have any hair ... and I'm a female.  The photos hurt me deeply ... I knew I could never let anyone see them ... even let myself look at.

The strange thing is I just discovered the photos .... they were taken during the 3 year period of time I battled cancer.  My enemy was non-Hodgkins lymphoma ... I fought like Hell to win.  I won.

I was just told by the oncologist last week that I shouldn't be here ... well, I've survived 16 years and 98% patients died from what I had.

The photos ... I made myself look into them ... look into my face.  I couldn't believe it ... I couldn't see Death lurking around me, but ... it was.

I couldn't see that the photos don't look bad at all.  I couldn't see that I didn't look hideous with the beautiful human hair wig Skip chose for me to look like my own hair.

I never looked at the photos until 16 years later ... during the past several days.  Now, I can see that those photos aren't awful at all.  I look normal ... you wouldn't know I had a beautiful wig on unless I told you.

You wouldn't know Death was lurking around me when you looked at them ... if I hadn't told you.

Note by this author:  I own all photos you see on my stories, posts, blogs.  All stories I write in my words, I also ... own.  Gloria Faye Brown bates/aka Granny Gee/@grannygee

RE-LEARNING... SKIP CRIED... 'RUBBER' GIRL... PROOF OF WHAT YOU CAN BEAR...

RE-LEARNING...  SKIP CRIED...  'RUBBER' GIRL... PROOF OF WHAT YOU CAN BEAR...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES


I turned the oven on, put the biscuits in.  When it came time to take them out, I stood there looking at the bright red heater element that heats the oven.  I felt confused... I was in a medicated fog, it'd been several months since I had surgery, I was still very ill.

I wanted to begin doing things again, I was tired of staying in bed or sitting.  I really had no business in the kitchen, I wasn't strong enough... and it had been a 'lifetime' since I'd cooked, or cleaned.  The most I'd done all this time was to get my shower, and put on a fresh nightgown.

My hands had forgotten how to do things.  Everything hurt my hands.  They were sensitive from all the chemotherapy treatments I'd taken over the months.  My fingers felt like 'rubber'... they couldn't hold onto anything long at a time.

The chemotherapy changed how my feet, legs and hands felt.  I felt like I was a 'rubber' girl.  A rubber girl with a body of such pain I can't describe.  I still suffer that pain every day of my life... as much as I used to hate pain, I've learned to live with it.  The type of surgery I had caused it, and I had two of those surgeries!

Once Skip had given me $600.00 at Walmart... I was standing there holding the bills, each one slipped out of my fingers and I never knew it.  Skip saw them and ran to retrieve them!  I couldn't hold the bills, nor 'remember' to try hold to hold them.  My fingers never felt the bills leave my hand......

I got the potholder and opened the oven door.  I took the biscuits almost out when... my hand touched the red-hot heater element.  The pain was immediate, it burned badly.  I didn't immediately pull my hand away because for a brief moment... I wasn't sure 'where, why' my hand was feeling pain!  I put the biscuits on top of the stove.  I looked at the top of my hand stunned that I'd just burned myself.

My hand had two places that were badly burned on top of it.  I just stood there not quite understanding 'why' it was hurting so bad.  I looked back at the heating element inside the oven, it was red-hot.  I was trying to focus on what had just happened throught the fog of the medicine clouding my mind.

The pain was great, I was feeling wet tears on my face.  I touched the tears with my burned hand... the salt of my tears made the pain more intense.  I didn't know at that time... the tears, the salt would burn an open wound.

I looked back to the burn on my hand... I was seeing all through a medicated fog.  It was strange... it'd been many, many months since I'd been in a kitchen to cook.  I was very sick,  somehow I couldn't grasp 'why' my hand was hurting.  I remember standing there holding my hand, looking straight at the red-hot heating element... it burned bright red.  Thankfully, I remembered to reach up to turn the stove off.  I was alone.

I still carry those two scars on the top of my right hand, both are about an inch long.  When I look at them, I remember the 'dream-like' feeling... it was like I was reaching for something 'not knowing' it could hurt me.  I wonder if this is 'how a little child feels' when it reaches out innocently to something, and it hurts him/her?  So innocent, so 'not knowing'.  I stop to this day at times, to think back to 'then'.  I had to learn again... I know how that feels now, I've been on that path for some distance.

Each day I got up with the thought in my mind... 'do something, even if it doesn't amount to anything, just do something, I've got to get stronger'.  I'd never been so weak in my life... at this time.  I was at the weakest point in my entire life.  I couldn't remember doing things, I could 'but, I couldn't'.  I had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma and 'came back from death'.

I had been sick for over a year this first time... I only knew the softness of the bed, my pillows, the materials of my nightgowns, towels, touching my pups, touching Skip's hands... nothing ever touched my hands to hurt me.  The pain I knew in my body was unlike any pain I'd ever known... 'but, I knew it'... I 'knew' this kind of pain.

Skip would plead with me before he left for work to please not to do anything, please be careful, don't fall down, stay close to bed.  I would promise to do as he asked everytime... 'but, knowing I was going to get stronger, and I couldn't do it staying in bed.  I think Skip 'knew' I  would break my promises... he always said I was 'fighter'... he told everyone that when he talked about my condition.... I heard him, when I couldn't talk for myself.

I went through months knowing in my mind that I was going to die.  Skip and Tommy would buy expensive Ty Beanie Babies for my collection of beanie babies, and all kinds of things.  I would sit and cry when they were out of my sight thinking they were spending money on me to make me feel better.... it was a waste, I knew I wasn't going to live...yet... I knew I wasn't giving up without a..... helluva fight!  Yes, life was going to know I fought for it!

I remember telling Skip and Tommy to not buy me more expensive beanie babies, they bought the ones that were hard to find and paid quite a bit for them.  My collection grew.  When over a year later, and I'd become stronger... I had a very nice collection!  I lost most of them in the fire that burned our home down, and we lost all of our belongings.

I never saw Skip cry until I was deathly sick, he didn't know it, I couldn't reach out to him... but, through eyes wet with tears... I could see him sitting, head bent over in his hands... crying.  Skip was crying!  Over 'me'.  He didn't know I saw him.  Skip and I have always been very close... soulmates (yes, there is such a thing).  I saw Skip cry over each of our pets when they died, I saw Skip cry over Tommy.  Skip never cries.........

Tommy's eyes would hold tears in them as he talked to me.  Tommy loved his mama.  He'd come back from Germany, he couldn't bear me to be as sick 'enough to die'.  I always tried to appear stronger when he was around, I think he saw through it.  I've seen my son cry... if I listen carefully in my mind... I could hear him.  I don't think I want to do that now.

I remember telling Tommy, just as I told Skip the day the tree snagged my wig of my head! that from now on... we are going to find gentle, good humor in my illness.  Laughter is healing.  I told him just as I told Skip... 'we can find humor in good taste'... we'll all feel better.  This was in reference .... to my bald head that held several little curls on top... yes, I did look like the Gerber baby... Skip called me 'his 'Gerber baby'.  From then on, we'd all gently laugh about the awkward moments 'a woman has when she has a bald head!'  We didn't focus on that, but, we knew from 'then on'... how handle that.

I remember one day as I look back into my 'memory bank'...  I wanted to go outside and work in the flowers I once had pride in.  I hadn't been outside without Skip... he'd always walk with me outside holding onto me, we would sit on the porch, or the steps.  I meant to get strong enough to go outside on my own, I would be very careful.

I went outside, I was walking slowly... my body was too weak to be doing that.  You have to 'know me' to understand wha I 'meant to do'.  I meant to 'get well, strong'.

Whenever 'I mean to'...I'm usually going to accomplish my goal.  I 'meant to live, to get well'... I wasn't ready to die.  I can say honestly... I know how easy it is to die when very ill... it's only too easy 'if you give up'.  I saw, and said in my mind constantly with determination 'I mean to live'.  I made myself visualize things I was going to do in the near future 'that was more than I did at this moment'.  Oh, how I pushed myself... in the long run, it paid off.  I became strong, though in pain constantly, I was strong.  It took some time to get to that point.

I had opened the back door to the porch, I held on to the door and stepped out onto the porch.  The sun was shining so beautifully, I felt its heat on my face.  I closed my eyes and for a moment... I savored the sensation of warmth, healing warmth... it felt wonderful.  That simple little moment was a treasure to me.  Golden sunshine kissing my face, I felt myself smile.

I saw a hoe sitting just off from the porch... I wanted to get it and use it to hold on to, to walk down the steps.  I made it to the edge of the porch and reached for the hoe.  How it hurt my body... the incision from my surgery was a large one, on my back around the whole shoulder was a 'half-moon' scar.  Also, there was a rib missing, taken out during the surgery.  Oh, now one can know the pain.....

I began to pull the hoe to me while holding onto the post that went to the ceiling of the porch... it 'was so heavy'.  I managed to get it up on the porch to me...  all the while I was bringing it up...  I was trying to think 'what was so different about how it felt in my hands'.

I looked down at the hoe to see 'why' it felt so strange in my hands.  I remember propping the hoe against the wall of the porch so, I could look at 'why my hands hurt'.  I stood there holding both palms up close to look at them to see... I put one palm under my left palm to hold it up... I took my thumb to gently rub the left palm... it hurt!

I brought my right hand back up to place it palm-down on plam of my left hand... I gently began to rub my hand over the surface.  The pain was great... I closed my hands together and held them to my chest.  I noticed tears falling onto my hands... they were from my eyes.

I brought my hands up to my mouth, I held them close.  My hands were too soft, too tender to touch something so hard, so strong.  They weren no match for the handle of that hoe.  I left that hoe sitting propped up against the wall of the porch... went back inside.  It wasn't 'time' for that... not just yet.

I wanted to get strong enough for my body to hold its own again... I wanted to hold my ground in life.  Somehow, I knew I would.  I'm still here now... not a day goes by without that pain, my body remembers well my fight to live every day of my life when I go to move.  I can never forget that, I'm reminded every day of it.  But... guess what?  Everything is really going to be alright.  I can deal with it.

I would have never believed one's body could go through so much... and each time something else was added.  I believe it now!  I may be in pain constantly... but, most all the time ... I won't let you know it.  I'm not going to lay down, whine and cry, nor am I going to give up.  I tell Skip that I understand 'why' as a little girl 'I went to hell' to live... it taught me to be 'one hell of a fighter'... I came from the right 'family'.

Remember that saying (of course... I could get backwards!)... 'God doesn't give you any more than you can bear'.  If you want to see proof of that... think of Granny Gee.  I'm still here, and here are a few things I've 'beared'......  look below:

I fought for my life three years, I have non-Hodgkins lymphoma that can flare up anytime.  You can't imagine the painful tests and procedures one's body goes through during this time.  You wouldn't believe unless.... you've been on that path.

Skip fought for his life, he colon cancer.  Twenty eight inches of his colon was taken out.

Skip had two, almost three bad wrecks.

Throught that time, we lost five precious pets from old age, one with cancer.

Our home burned down, we lost everything.

My son, Tommy, died unexpectedly.

We lost seeing Taban, Tommy's son.  We lost seeing Taylor McKenzie, Tommy's daughter, our grandchildren.

Through all this time I lost 19 loved ones, my mother and my brother were among them. 

I had congested heart failure, almost died, I made it!

Those are a few things that I somehow got back up from... to go on to live.  I will say it again... when my son died... I almost didn't get back up, I almost didn't.  I can make it now, knowing he's gone, the sadness will always be in my heart.

When a mother's child dies and she loves him with her very heart, and he's the only child.... I can't tell you what it feels like.  I pray you never have to experience it.  I can only say... that was worse than any cancer, and if I didn't have Skip and our Pups... I would have honestly 'let go'... that's how bad it hurt... it hurt enough for me to ....die.

Now... May 29th, this year... will be two years Tommy's been gone.  I made it to 'now'.  I'm going to be alright now.  I was at the weakest in my life when Tommy died, I thought I was when I diagnosed with cancer.  It in no way compared to losing my baby, my child, my son.

I don't waste time in questioning 'why', I live in the present, I cry, and sometimes, I feel mad, but... 'I mean to live'.  I hold onto the smile in my mind, a smile like sunshine... Tommy's smile.  I'm most strong... again.  I have Skip and my Pups, my world.  I have all I need.

NAKED... A LIMB SNAGGED IT AND TOSSED IT IN THE AIR!

NAKED...   A LIMB SNAGGED IT AND TOSSED IT INTO THE AIR!

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

My scalp tingled, and felt very strange.  I was feeling fear, my stomach hurt.  I wasn't feeling well at all.  I'd been through a major surgery, and now... had begun chemotherapy.  I stayed in excruciating pain, now 'this' was happening. 

I had to hold on to things to walk, my body was very weak and I'd lost all my muscle tone, my mind was in a medicated fog...  always.  Now...  'this' was happening... there was no mistakening what was going to happen.

The oncologist told me that some of the drugs that were in my particular chemotherapy treatments would most likely make me lose all my hair.  She told me that I had the option to take chemotherapy... or be like some of the women who had cancer... opt not to take the chemotherapy treatments.

The oncologist told me that I'd be surprised how many women who were so vain over losing their hair... opted not to take chemotherapy to save their own lives.

I had long curly, beautiful hair.  I didn't want to lose my hair... it had taken some time to let it grow this long.  Always... I got lots of compliments on my hair.  I asked her did alot of those women die... she said yes, they did.  It didn't take me but, several minutes to decide to have chemotherapy.

Skip was always by my side..  I never went to tests or to anything medical by myself.  Skip was always there with me.  He asked the oncologist 'where' could he buy me the nicest wig that would look like my hair.  She told him, and when we left the office... we went there.

Skip helped me to choose the wig, one that was almost as long as my hair, just as curly.  It was an expensive, human hair wig...  it was beautiful and lightweight.  The lady gave us a box with the wig we wanted.

We got home and I put the pretty box with the wig up... just in case... really when I would need it.  I felt that scared feeling in my stomach.  I didn't want to lose my hair... but, the oncologist said some of the drugs caused hair loss.  I remember thinking in the past that 'cancer made one lose their hair'...  that's untrue.   Certain drugs will cause hair loss.

I decided I would go have my hair cut short... I had the feeling that it 'was going to begin coming out'.  My scalp felt so tingley, strange....  I'd never felt this feeling before.  Actually...  it felt like when I placed my hand on my hair that 'my hair hurt'.  The night before I'd felt this same sensation in my scalp, it hurt alot to just lay my head on my pillows.  I'd never 'had my hair to hurt'.

I went to the beauty salon, I was so sad as I watched the lady cut my hair off.  I'd taken such pride in my hair, it was long and beautiful, curly.  I felt tears in my eyes, my nose burned inside, I wanted to cry my heart out.

The next morning I was alone, Skip had already left.  I made my way slowly to the bathroom to take my shower.  I got into the warm shower and began washing my hair, my scalp felt painful touching it.  My biggest fear came true...  my hair began coming out in my hands.  I began crying.

My tears were mixed with water from my shower.  I cried as I took my shower.  I reached for my towel and began to dry off.  I finally made myself look into the mirror...  I began crying again.

I began wondering how could I go to bed tonight sleeping in a wig.  I couldn't imagine letting Skip see my head without hair!  I could hardly bear seeing myself in the mirror.  I had never felt less than a person in my life...  as I did now.  I had no hair, excepting on top I had some curls left. 

I put the wig on, my scalp felt awful.  It was tingling and felt so uncomfortable.  I almost felt like I wanted to die... how could I let Skip see my head without hair, just how could I?  I knew that I had to think of something because that was sure to happen.  I couldn't wear a wig all the time.

That evening skip came home, he didn't notice that I had a wig on!  It looked so much like my hair.  As the evening progressed, I became more upset...  how could I go to bed without the wig.  I was in too much pain from the surgery to sleep on the couch.  I had a incision that began almost at the top of my shoulder that rounded to almost under my left arm.  The pain was unbearable...  my hair loss only contributed to it.

I began sobbing.  Skip quickly cmae to see what was wrong.  I told him that I couldn't just let him see me without hair.  I was so embarassed, so ashamed.  I felt him put his hand on my shoulder, when he spoke, I listened in amazement.

He told me that this was only temporary, he loved me with his heart and I meant the world to him.  He told me that the loss of my hair didn't make him love me any less, that it would be growing back.  What was important now...  was to do all possible to get well. 

When he said those words, I instantly felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off my shoulders, I took in a deep breath...  I knew inside that everything was going to be alright.  That night I took the wig off and placed it on its stand.  My scalp felt so 'naked'... cool from the air.  Now...  I knew 'why' men who were bald, wore caps when it was cold!  I was now...  baldheaded...  though I had several curls on top of my head.  Skip nicknamed me his 'Gerber Baby'.

I never did get used to wearing the wig, though it was beautiful.  I wanted my own hair back.  I went through many weeks of chemotherapy, finished it.  I began to notice that my hair was growing back!

One day we went to the lake...  there were trees nearby.  We were walking near them and... the unthinkable happened!

I felt my face turn red, I was so embarassed!  As we walked close to one of the smaller trees...  a limb snagged my wig and took it right off and ...  tossed it up in the air!   I felt like my dress had blown up to my waist... instead my wig was gone...  leaving my scalp naked for God, and everyone to see!

I stood there...  deciding whether to cry and melt into the ground from embarassment... or the thought came to my mind that this was really funny!  I was thinking that if I would begin to find 'gentle, good humor' in things...  all would be better.  Guess what I did?

I began laughing as I watched the expression on Skip's face change to a smile!  I was feeling better as I laughed!  I could see Skip was so glad that I took it this way.  I reached up on that limb and took my wig  back and I...  stuck in on my head!

I asked Skip if I had it on right... he said "no, it looks alittle sideways!"  I gradually turned it until it was right...  Skip's face was my mirror.  I told Skip "I  can't believe my hair came off!"  We both began to laugh again in a 'good' way.  I thought to myself that...  with humor in good taste... everything is going to be alright.  It honestly made everything better.

It seemed laughter in good taste gave me hope, made me know that yes, indeed my rocky path was going to get better, though it took a long time.   I was on at that time in my life, the hardest path I'd ever traveled.

When we began to smile and laugh, things got better.  Even when I had injections it would hurt so  bad, I would smile through my tears, sometimes I reassured the technican or nurse, that it was all right...  I knew it was going to hurt, but, to get well I had to get through this.  Sometimes, I saw tears in their eyes....  for me.  I was amazed.  Truthfully...  I met more 'angels' on this path, though rocky, who went out of their way to make things better for me.

That was the only time I ever lost my wig!  It never got caught on anything else to make it come off.  When it became time to put it up, I was so thankful.  I had it shampooed, fixed, rolled it up a certain way to keep the curls 'just right'... stored it back in the pretty box.  I never thought I'd have to wear that wig the following year...  I did have to once again.  I didn't stay in remission long.

That wig was a life saver once again...  it made me look normal.  People complimented it...  that made me feel like an imposter.  I felt the need to tell people that it was a wig...  I didn't want them to think I was something I wasn't.

The wig is  gone...I think we lost it in the house fire when we lost all of our belongings.  You wouldn't believe all that happened to us in the past 12 years.  I don't, when I stop to think about them.  I can't look long, I have to go forward.  I don't want to get trapped in the past, I've come too far. 

I'm glad to think of one good, funny thing concerning that wig...  it really was funny when that limb snagged it like that...  it bounced it up into the air, when it came down... it landed right in that tree!  It created a 'good' memory... when it could very well have been a 'bad' one.  I'm smiling gently as I 'look back'. I hope you will, too.  Everything turned out alright!