Kay's Courage

This was published in A Cup of Comfort for Courage. I wrote it in honor of my dear friend Kay who is now 5 years cancer-free.

I learned a lot about courage this past year. I didn't learn it from soldiers-although there were many fine examples from which to learn. I didn't learn it from firemen or policemen-although they certainly were exceptional heroes. No, I learned courage from Kay-and it was a lesson I'll never forget.

Kay's doctor suspected she might have breast cancer in May of 2002. The long, warm summer passed in a whirlwind of tests combined with her job as nanny to twin toddler boys. Her hour-long commute to and from work was often filled with fear, tears, and prayers. Yet those who know and loved her saw a different side. She told me about the possibility of the cancer only after the biopsy had been taken.

"I'm probably just fine," she reassured me. "I'll find out in a few days."

Upon returning from a Labor Day Weekend getaway with my family, I learned the news.

"I have breast cancer," she told me, in a calm and clear voice.

I didn't know what to say. This couldn't be happening to Kay. Well into her fifties, this petite blonde was filled with spunk. She had energy and enthusiasm that far surpassed my own-and that of most people I knew. Her optimism was contagious and her love of life-especially her family and friends-was fierce. No, she definitely couldn't have breast cancer. It simply wouldn't be fair. After all, she looked and sounded just fine. She even said she felt fine. And very true to her character, she had waited to tell me her news after our return from vacation.

"I didn't want you to worry," she said in her no-nonsense style. "There wasn't anything you could do by knowing my diagnosis before your trip."

As usual, she was right. It didn't make knowing any easier. I couldn't imagine what knowing was like for Kay, her husband, and her three grown children. I couldn't imagine what I'd be like if I were in her shoes.

Kay, however, strapped her shoes on with fierce determination. She stood up proud, and started taking the steps needed to fight her disease. First, she armed herself with one of the best weapons fighters need-knowledge. She researched, read, asked questions, and studied-not only her disease, but the treatments available, their side effects, and their statistics with regard to remission. Armed with a strong faith in God, she already wore her armor of courage. Now she simply started filling her arsenal. Once she, her husband and her doctors agreed on a method of treatment, she had surgery to remove the cancer. Just two days after surgery, she welcomed her son and his fiancée for a weekend visit. A few days after that, she returned to work-caring for and instilling her good values in her rambunctious twin charges. In fact, she worked throughout her radiation treatments. Arranging to have treatments in a hospital near her work, she simply altered her daytime routine with the boys.

"I have it all worked out," she told me before returning to work. "I can't lift the boys to put them in their ribs. But they can climb! I'll put chairs by their cribs and they can climb in themselves. Then I'll move the chairs so they can't crawl out."

She was, of course, a savvy, experienced mom.

"Then I'll rest when the boys nap," she said.

She learned to let the piles of laundry she normally folded stay in the laundry room. She learned to shut off the phone, and as best she could her mind. She knew that rest was necessary for her healing, and she was determined to heal! She was blessed with a boss who empathized with her situation, joined in arming her for battle, and was grateful she could still care for the twins.

Optimism sat side by side with Kay's faith and knowledge-ready to defeat any foe set loose in her path. While enduring her treatments, she began eagerly anticipating and planning for her son's marriage in the spring. When her spirits lagged, she bolstered them with ideas for a mother's gown, plans for a shower, and excitement about her son's plans. She maintained close ties with her dear friends. She encouraged her youngest daughter to apply to college. And she remained her middle child's closest confidante. Do you suppose she had any notion she was teaching courage to those of us observing her? I doubt it.

When treatments ended and tests confirmed that Kay-not cancer-was the victor, her friends and family shared in the relief and joy that comes with looking danger in the face at close range. When prayers, shared and powerful, are answered-the presence of God is apparent. But the presence of God was always apparent in Kay. Her goodness and honesty were catching, and offered to anyone willing to consider accepting her gifts.

On May 10, 2003, Kay's son Christopher and fiancée Joanne were married in a beautiful, spiritual church wedding. Not a dry eye in the church, the joy of this young couple's union was shared by all in attendance. The real joy for me-and I know for many of Kay's relatives and friends-especially her dear husband-came when the mother of the groom walked down the aisle. Accompanied by a handsome usher, and trailed by her faithful husband, Kay fought for composure to walk down the aisle and light the unity candle on the altar. Some wedding guests saw a woman wrought with emotion. After all, her first child was being married. Some saw a nervous mother-soon-to-be mother-in-law, as she contained her tears and trembling.

But I saw courage. I saw a year of what could have been lemons turned to lemonade. I saw a strong woman become even stronger. I saw determination in the face of danger and a will to overcome that danger like none I'd ever witnessed.

Yes, I learned courage from Kay. And I pray if I ever need to put it into action, I'll fight as gracefully and with as much strength as she did.