As we begin Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

God, our creator and guide, we ask you to send wisdom to those who seek a cure for ovarian cancer and compassion to the doctors and nurses who care for those who are sick.  Be with the families and friends of all those who suffer.  To those who are sick, give them strength and courage.  And for those who have died, we ask that they may be forever in your company.

God, grant us good judgment as we set out to be Diane’s Voice to educate others about ovarian cancer.  Help us to be the hands that serve and the hearts that love so that our voices are heard.  Amen

I wrote this as the invocation to an Ovarian Cancer Awareness event as part of Diane's Voice.  Diane's Voice is an organization devoted to education about ovarian cancer and founded at the request of my dear friend, Diane.

Happy Birthday in Heaven

It has been almost a year since my dear friend died. Today is her birthday.  Last year at this time we were very busy practicing our flash mob dance.  I know we were all praying for a miracle.  We did not get our miracle, but we all received a very special gift.

The gift of friendship with a wonderful person, the gift of love and joy and peace as we journeyed with her from this life into the next. Diane is no longer here with us physically, but I see her and feel her.  I hold the memories close, the pain I try to let go.
I don't know what happens in heaven on this day but here we are reminded that sometimes life is way too short and very unfair.  Oh, yes, I believe you are in a much better place.  I grieve not so much that you are not here but that we are not there with you.

Remembrance

Diane Noelle LoGrasso

Diane, a faith filled wife, mother, and friend, died before anyone wanted her to die.  She passed from this life into the next after being here barely forty-three years.  Diane was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in October of 2007, after months of doctor visits and tests led to the conclusion that all she needed was a routine hysterectomy and her problems would be solved. Three different health care professionals agreed.  Imagine for a minute, waking up after that surgery, and seeing the face of the doctor who said you did not have ovarian cancer and finding out that said doctor was called into the surgery because you have Stage III ovarian cancer. 

 Treatment began after she recovered from her surgery. She sought expert advice from M. D. Anderson in Houston, Moffitt in Tampa, and doctors in Jupiter. Her husband, a scientist, spoke to colleagues trying to find the best treatment plan so ovarian cancer would not take Diane.  It was a roller coaster ride of chemo, remission, testing – each time the pattern repeated the highs seemed higher and the lows lower. 

 Diane faced cancer as she did life.  On her own terms.  Her rules.  She wanted to leave a legacy to the world.  She did.  She wanted to be remembered.  She is.  She wanted her  suffering and death to mean something.  It can.  How?  By working to educate health care professionals and women.  By teaching women to take charge of their health care and to speak up to their doctors until they are heard.  By making information about ovarian and all reproductive cancers easily accessible and understood. 

We can question Diane’s cancer forever.  Questioning will not change the fact that she is gone or make a difference in someone else's life. We can, as Diane said, “educate and act, to save women and their loved ones from this agony.  This will make my suffering and death mean something.”

Last Holy Communion

Some stories must be told.  This is one of those stories.  On Friday, June 3 I had the 6 am shift to be with Diane in Hospice.  I got there and S told me it had been a rough night.  She got her things together and then left to get ready for her day, which included two important appointments. 
Diane kept waking up from a fitful sleep to throw up.  At one point she fell asleep on my shoulder as I was propping her up and trying to hold the the bucket without making a mess.
She fell asleep and I prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet.  She woke up and was in pain, was given some more medicine and dozed on and off.  By now it was almost 9 am and T came to replace me so I could go to work.
I collected my things, kissed Diane goodbye with an "I love you and see you later." Just outside the hospice doors, there was S, walking quickly my way.  She had gone to morning Mass and had brought back communion and wanted me to give Diane communion.  So, back we go.  The nurse was in the room and I ask her if I can give the host to Diane.  "If she wants it, you can try."  Diane opens her eyes and we ask her, she nods yes.  I take the pyx from S, it has a picture of Padre Pio on it (more on this later), open it and realize I can only give Diane a very small piece.  I place the pyx on a makeshift altar S has set up and remove the Host.  I break it in half and think, "I am breaking Jesus, he was broken for us, Diane is broken, but this will help her heal."  I break off the tiniest piece I can and place it in Diane's mouth.  She holds it there for a very long time as all of us pray until she swallows.
I leave again with S.  She tells me how she decided to come to the hospital.  Her appointments were cancelled and since it was First Friday she really wanted to go to Mass.  While there she had this overwhelming desire to bring the Eucharist back for Diane, but she did not have a pyx.  So, she asked our friend if he had something she could use and he gives her a pyx he has that he bought to bring his mother, who was dying of cancer, Communion, but never did because she died before he could to so.  So, she rushed back hoping I would still be there to give her Communion.  I am still not sure why S wanted me to do this, since she is also an Extraordianry Minister of Holy Communion.  I remember her saying, "you need to do it, I can't."
I have thought about this whole thing for over a month now and each time I am more and more amazed.  It was a gift, not only for Diane, but for me, S, T and even our friend who loaned S the pyx.  All of us were very close to Diane and we were able to share a beautiful moment with her.  And to see the Body of Christ in a new light.
As an Extraordinary Minister it has always been meaningful when I have given communion to adults and children who are receiving just after their first communion.  But this time, I was able to give someone Jesus for the last time.  And not just someone, my dear friend, my sister in all ways but birth. 

Hungry (Falling on my knees)

This was one of our Communion songs at Diane's funeral.  We didn't have drums :)

Death of a Friend

Yesterday afternoon at 4:04 pm Diane passed from this life into the next. 

     At about 2 pm, her husband Phil called and said the nurse had called and said it would be soon.  I said I was on my way.  As I pulling out of the parking lot my husband was pulling in; he parked and got into my car after I told him.  As I pulled into the hospital parking lot our friend Tricia called and said she was just leaving work.  We walked into the hospital and went upstairs.  The sign saying "Check in with Nurse" was still on Diane's door; I ignored it.  As a opened the door, the nurse came out of  her chair to check who we were before allowing us in the room.  We hugged Phil and sat down.  Diane's breathing was shallow, but steady for the most part.  We alternated between crying and quiet.  Tricia finally got there; yes, the nurse stopped her too!  Phil says to Diane, "Well, the gang's all here Diane."  In my mind I kept seeing Diane, Tricia and me almost four years ago, in a different hospital, holding hands over her hospital bed and promising to stand with her and beat the odds of a 39 year old woman surviving almost stage 4 ovarian cancer.  We didn't.  But Diane, Tricia and I became like sisters by God's design and the journey.
     A little before 4 pm the nurse came in and said she had orders to drain the fluid from Diane's belly to keep her comfortable, so we all left and went into the family room.  Another friend was there waiting and praying.  Phil got up after a bit and wandered back to Diane's room and we waited for the nurse to call us back. 
     Tricia saw the nurse motioning to us and got up, telling us to come.  I'm not sure what Tricia said to the nurse, but then I heard "she passed" and Tricia saying, "what, she passed?" And the nurse nodding and touching our arms.  We all began crying, and then moved to go to the room.  Phil came out and we then we went in together to see Diane.
     She was at peace.  We cried, prayed, said good bye to her body.  Another dear friend of hers came in to say goodbye.  She and her husband had seen Phil as he was leaving the hospital to go tell the children. 
In the end, she did not die alone, as was her desire.  We were with her until almost her last breath and then she was alone with her husband, as is right.
     I suppose by now, Diane has met God.  My husband asked me last night, "Do you think Diane is done yelling at God by now?" I said, "She never had a chance to yell.  She was overcome with such love she couldn't."  She has maybe learned a few things and seen her family and friends already in heaven.  Maybe she is in purgatory or maybe after all her earthly suffering it just took a second.  Who knows?  Time in heaven is not time on earth. 
     There are more stories to tell, but not now.
     It was a journey I would have rather not taken, but would not have missed for anything.

Tricia, Diane, me on Easter Sunday 2011