raylawpc wrote:Randyman wrote:bennie wrote:Randy, can I ask how your dad died? He was too young.
My father died of prostate cancer. It's a hell of a way to go. He really suffered. The thing is, he never complained. One day though, my brother Dennis and I went to see him at the hospital, and when we got to the room my father was quietly crying. Apparently something went wrong, it's been so long I can't remember exactly what, but the doctors shoved a tube straight into his kidneys, with no anesthesia. It had to be painful. It was the only time during his illness that I saw him break. He felt ashamed for his sons seeing him that way. I let him know that he earned the right. It was tough.
This is how I remember him in my minds eye.
Randy’s memories of his Dad reminded me of my Mom. May I share about something about her with you?
In 1967, my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent a radical mastectomy of her left breast – meaning, they removed not only her breast, but a good part of the underlying muscle and most of the surrounding lymph nodes. In addition, the doctors subjected her to radiation therapy, which was then in its infancy as a form of cancer treatment.
In the years following her mastectomy, she suffered two relapses of cancer, and underwent chemotherapy to put it in remission. In fact, Mom was on a continuous modified version of chemo the last ten years or so of her life to prevent yet another recurrence of the disease (it worked).
If the cancer wasn't bad enough, she suffered nerve damage as a result of the mastectomy, which led to increasingly severe pain in her left arm. By 1974, the only option, according to the doctors said, was to clip a nerve in her neck so that she would no longer experience pain in the arm. The surgery would render her arm completely numb from the shoulder down. Or so they hoped. On the operating table, however, the surgical assistants failed to properly secure Mom’s head into the device intended to hold her neck perfectly still. As the surgeon began cutting the intended nerve in her neck, Mom’s head slipped and he cut the wrong nerves. As a result, Mom still had the arm pain, but lost all muscular control over her arm, and all feeling in her left leg. So, she was left with a completely useless arm and without any relief from her pain or sensation in her left leg.
If that wasn’t enough, the radiation therapy rendered her left shoulder bones and left upper ribs as easy to break as chalk. Little accidents like bumping her left shoulder in the door frame would result in a fracture of the collarbone.
Like Randy’s Dad, I never heard my Mom complain and I never saw her cry. After the arm surgery, somebody suggested Mom sue the neurosurgeon for malpractice. Her reply: “For Heaven’s sake, why would I do that? It wasn’t his fault my head slipped in that brace. He didn’t do it on purpose. How is suing him going to make my arm any better?” I remember one time watching her struggle with some simple household task, and voicing my frustration about the loss of function with her left arm. Her response? “It could have been worse. At least I’m not left handed. I can still write letters and do a lot of things.”
And indeed she could. A stickler for cleanliness, my Mom still vacuumed, dusted and cleaned her house every single day, cooked every meal we ate, and did the laundry twice a week (including ironing – try doing that with one hand). On top of that, after two bouts of cancer, she felt like she needed something to take her mind off her problems, so she became a substitute high school teacher. After I got involved in boxing, she started coming to the fights and really fell in love with the sport. In 1975, she became the first licensed female boxing judge in Oklahoma.
I recall one time at a boxing card, Pat O’Grady commented to me that my Mom looked like she wasn’t feeling very well. “Well, Pat, yesterday Mom broke her collarbone getting out of the car.” “What the hell is she doing here then?” “You had her down to judge some of the fights tonight, and she didn’t want to let you down,” I replied. I remember Pat shaking his head, and saying, “Compared to your Mom, all these fighters are just pussies.” I know my Mom’s determination and toughness commanded the attention and respect of all the boxing guys in Oklahoma City. Everybody was on a first name basis in our crew – even our ringside physician was just “Doc” – but everybody called my mother “Mrs. Ray.”
I have always respected and admired top flight boxers. But I can’t say that any of them were ever my hero. That’s because I didn’t have to look any farther than my Mom to have a hero.
My Mom died in 1992 from congestive heart failure. I miss her every day.
I have never written any of this about my Mom before. Thanks for letting me share, guys.
DD
