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Grandma Battles Breast Cancer
By Sherry Barrow
I was born on my grandmother's birthday, February 8, 1970. To her, I was the greatest birthday present ever. She cherished me. She was everything a grandma should be. A wonderful cook, fun, loving and best of all, she spoiled me. She made me feel special.
I remember one of my summer visits. We lived in Utah, and she in Northern California. I found her lying on the floor crying. She told me to run and get Grandpa. No one told me that she was ill. I had no clue. I guess they thought that I was too young to understand. I guess I didn't notice her wig, and that she had lost weight. She was always perfect in my eyes. Before I ran to find my grandpa, I asked her what was wrong. She said she had an "accident." And I said in a very loving voice, "Don't worry, Grandma, it will be OK." She was crying by then and said, "You don't understand! I can't even wipe my own behind, that's why I need Grandpa!" She had messed herself. I still didn't understand and went for my grandpa.
I vaguely remember that day. But now, as an adult, I realize how hard it must have been for her to be "herself" when I was there, and not let the "stresses" and sadness of her disease show at all. I think of all the pain and suffering from the chemo she endured, yet still had me come visit for the summer. That was the last summer I saw my grandmother alive. She died the following spring from breast cancer. How I wish I could have had more summers with her. I hope and pray for a cure.
Sherry Barrow is from Tremonton, Utah.