Friday, April 16

Click to enlarge

April 16, Friday - Went to store this morning. Nice and warm. Stopped at mom's and then Dr's office. No treatments for two weeks yet. Drove car for the first time. Appended: Store sent me $36 again. 

April 17, Saturday - Got my first check from union. Went to Kansas store.

April 18, Sunday - Easter. Went to church, then to Patty's for dinner, then to mom's. Saw everybody, but sure was pooped.

The Union finally started paying.

$36 is $296 in 2020 dollars.

Mom got back behind the wheel again in spite of the residual pain from her surgery. When they removed her left breast, they also took as much of the lymphatic tissue they could get to, and the resulting scar tissue was very tight, and made it extremely difficult for mom to raise her left arm. In typical Patton fashion, mom made her stretching exercises a point of humor, and my cousins and I often stretched with her, in a motion that could only be described as poultry in motion.

Her big old '55 Cadillac 62 Series was easy enough to wheel around with power steering and all, but mom was just barely five feet tall, and was just not designed for a rig that size. She managed, though. She valued her independence so greatly that the idea of not being able to drive would surely drive her mad.

$36 in 1965 is roughly equivalent to $296 today. Think about that. These collections were likely driven by mom's front-end people, but everyone contributed something. Absolutely amazing.

Easter Sunday at Bales Baptist Church, dinner at her sister's, and the usual gathering at the Pattons'. It may have been Easter, but it didn't vary that much from any other Sunday. Mom's family was always first. You'll notice that dad isn't mentioned. He was often along for the ride, but just as often he stayed home and did nothing. I feel as though my dad often felt inferior to mom's family. They were a more cohesive group than dad's family and they were smart, funny, and eager to help one another at the drop of a hat. Dad's family was harder to get to know, and while they were all good people, they were less ambitious, less able to adequately express themselves, and not likely to get together unless it was a major family event - wedding, funeral, or visiting relative.

Thursday, March 25

Click to enlarge

March 25, Thursday - Got up yesterday five times. Got up today & sat in chair while Karen fixed my bed. Go to bathroom quite often. Flowers and gifts and cards. Everybody has been so nice.

March 26, Friday - More flowers, more cards, more visitors. I have such nice friends and family. Johnson was over today. Mom has a terrible cold & went to the doctor today. We're sure doing our best for the medical profession.

March 27, Saturday - Hesser was in & took off some of the bandages. I have to take at least 15 xray treatments. I'll probably go home next Wednesday.

There really isn't much to add or illuminate here. Mom is dealing with things in her post-op hospital life, a smaller world than she'd like, but one still inhabited by her family and close friends.

She found out that she'll have fifteen Cobalt treatments to come, but home is on the horizon.

Sunday, March 7

Click to enlarge

March 7, Sunday - Took Ron, Mom, Bud and Marv to the airport. Tried to go to church, no place to park. Had a good time, took mom home and watched TV in evening.

March 8, Monday - Carol did my hair, did washing. Marv found out about my left breast & rushed me to Dr. Sims. (Now what?) Sims rushed me to (Dr.) Hesser. Took Marv out to his birthday. May be pretty busy on 3/29, or I may not be busy at all.

March 9, Tuesday - Low day. Blue, blue, blue. Told Johnson about my operation - he was so kind and understanding. I bawled like a nut. Tomorrow will be better. Worked on the front end - real busy, too.

Again with the airport. No one is traveling anywhere - we're just going to look at the airport. It's real Wes Anderson stuff.

Then the shoe drops. Mom found a lump in her left breast the size of a golf ball. If I remember the conversations properly, she had known about the lump for more than six months, but didn't think it was alarming enough to see a doctor about. Dad wasn't so calm, in fact he was furious that mom had sandbagged the discovery.Her regular doctor, Dr. Sims, was equally concerned, and immediately sent mom to see a surgeon, Dr. Hesser, the same day. The surgery was scheduled immediately and would take place about two weeks later at Bethany Hospital in Kansas City, Kansas; the same hospital I was born in some fifteen years earlier. They had the nerve to tear it down in the 1990s.

Bethany Hospital's Early Days

Mom took dad to his birthday celebration early - which can mean nothing besides a dinner at Crane's Cafeteria at the corner of Truman Road and Hardesty. Crane's fried chicken was and still is, to my mind the best I have ever eaten, and while they closed years ago, the very mention brings the taste back to me as though it were hot on my dinner plate. This was pretty much the only restaurant my mom and dad ever went to on any kind of regular basis. Cafeterias were, in general, the venues of choice for my family. Cranes. Myron Green's, Putch's - we knew them all, plus a few more in Topeka. Standing in lines as we pushed trays along seemed like second nature. It was the time of the factory worker. 

Crane's Cafeteria

Dad's real birthday is March 29, but mom didn't know if she would be able to follow through when that date rolled around. My mom was strong, but the reaction of dad and the doctors terrified her, and rightly so. In today's parlance, mom had Stage III metastatic breast cancer. It was entirely likely that they would take her breast, some muscle tissue, and as many affected lymph nodes as possible.

The reality of what's about to transpire has hit mom, and she's laid low. I'm sure she dreaded telling her store manager the news. Mom's manager, Kenny Johnson, was a strong manager, and he treated his people like family. Mom, and most everyone who worked with him, was crazy about the guy. My mom was the store mom, and a lot of the employees there would have walked on hot coals to keep her out of the hospital.

We all would have.