Another "I'll See You Later"
Death. It's inevitable for all people. We just don't know the when of it. We think we will live to a ripe old age and tell all the stories to our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We think we have all the time in the world to do the things. That's the hope and expectation. However, some are taken way too soon. I've already had to say "I'll See You Later" to one of my dear sweet friends. She was 50 years old when she entered the gates of heaven. She died from pancreatic cancer. Read about her here... https://asouthernrehabilitation.blogspot.com/2015/01/this-egyptian-girl.html Now once again, I am having to say good-bye to another dear treasured friend who also happens to be my cousin; we are family. We would be family even if the "bloodline" wasn't there. She is 58 years old. Her name is Amy. Amy has cancer. This horrible disease started as breast cancer about 14 months ago, give or take. As of this writing, the cancer has metastasized to both breasts, both lungs, liver, right femur, and brain. As a cancer bonus, her right arm is 5x the size of a normal arm...lymphedema is the cause. There is no more hope she will be cured or find herself in remission. Chemo treatments have stopped. It's now a waiting game. Will it be today? Will she have one more day with her sweet 88-year-old mother? Will she go to sleep tonight and not wake up tomorrow? I cannot imagine all the thoughts running through her mind.
When she told me the news of her cancer, I thought she would beat it. I mean, it's Amy Sprinkle for Pete sake! She is tough as nails! Secondly, it's breast cancer. Breast cancer patients are cured all the time nowadays. I prayed and hoped that would be the case. She sounded so positive when we messaged each other. She would do the chemo, the radiation, and it would be done. She would be well. Unfortunately, the getting well part was not part of God's plan. A few months ago she messaged me that she had "this place" on her arm. The doctors were treating it. I told her, "You gotta kick its ass! If anyone can, you can!" She agreed. Well, Amy has been fighting the battle of her life and she has fought bravely and hard and she has dug her heels in trying to beat this thing. It isn't working. The doctors told her the treatments aren't touching it. They have nothing else to throw at her. They have given her three of the strongest chemotherapy treatments available and nothing is making a difference with this aggressive type of cancer. The chemo didn't even make her sick. She didn't lose one hair on her head! It's crazy.
I received a call a few weeks ago now from Jan, her sister. "Dawn, Amy is not doing well. The doctors have called Hospice. If you want to see her, then you should come soon." WHAT???? I was floored. Obviously, Amy hasn't been giving me the whole story all these months.
Let me tell you a bit about my friend, my cousin, Amy. She is one of the hardest working people I've ever met. She is extremely stubborn. She can knock a person out if she wants to. She has been known to cuss like a sailor. She is 4th out of 6 siblings...only 1 sister, that should tell you something. Her greatest love is fishing. She can fish all day; she has the patience of Job with those fish! She has taught many young kids how to fish and in so doing, she also taught them about life. She poured her life into these kids when they desperately needed guidance and love and someone to spend quality time with them. These kids are now adults and doing well. In fact, each one has been back to see Amy at some point in the last few weeks. They have told her how much she means to them and what an impact she has had on their lives. It's amazing. It's right. She deserves all the love.
I've now been to see her three times and each time I leave I wonder if this will be the last. Amy makes it really hard to say good-bye. When I visit, she seems her old self. She talks and laughs; she eats and gets up and walks to the kitchen and goes to the bathroom and then back to the couch; she pretty much can take care of herself right now. She does have to have help with some things but overall, she's doing it. So it's like visiting just for a visit. I've decided this is her gift to us. She's making it easy. It's far from easy for either of us or anyone for that matter, but she is being a RockStar for all who love her. She doesn't want us to see her in severe pain or lethargic or not mentally alert. In fact, her pain meds are pretty low on the mg side for that very reason. She amazes even the doctors. The doctors can't believe she is still here; they've never seen anything like her. You see, Amy's entire chest down to her belly button is covered in the most horrendous blisters. COVERED. These blisters ooze and bleed and are extremely painful. They're big and her skin is dark dark red in places. No one can touch her except to change the bandages on a daily basis. Her sweet sister does this most of the time. She is the only person Amy trusts to do it "right." Hospice tries but it just upsets her. The blisters are spreading down her arm and going around the back of her shoulder now. I've seen them. I don't know how she is surviving it. As Jan was changing the bandages, Amy said, "Dawn, you might not want to see this. It's like a bell you can't unring." I told her, "Yes, I do. It's you, Amy." I was inwardly horrified. The blisters are the cancer coming on out to the outside because it has nowhere else to go. My heart broke for her.
Amy and I met when I was 16 and she was 18. I got a job at Ingle's grocery store working in the deli department. Amy was the biscuit and doughnut maker. Amy is full of piss and vinegar and rough around the edges and we had the BEST time working together. She liked to pull pranks on occasion; she joked and laughed and in so doing, made the job rather enjoyable. As we got to know one another, we discovered we were related. We are cousins. This would be on my grandmother's side of the family, the Wheelers. Amy and I got into a lot of mischief in the next few years. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Amy hated wearing dresses and I made her wear a long pink ruffled taffeta dress. It was the best! She did it for me. Amy was more like a boy than a girl, such a tom-boy her whole life. Seeing her in that dress is forever etched in my memory. She drove to TN to visit me in college once. She drove to Winston when I moved back to NC in 1997. She drove back to Winston so we could attend our first Garth Brooks concert. Top concert to this day! Amy has always been there for me. We didn't see each other very much once I moved away from Asheville, but I knew she was only a phone call away. During those young teenage years from 16-20, we were Buds. Amy has this loud glorious laugh. I hope I never forget what it sounds like. Just her laugh makes me laugh. She has a million stories to tell. She even wrote a little book about her family and the crazy stories throughout the years when they were all kids. The saying, "You can't make this stuff up" definitely fits her family!
These three times that I've been to see her, I haven't been able to tell her how much she means to me. There have been so many people around. I told her Sunday night when I got back home that I was going to write her a letter. I had to tell her how much she means to me before it was too late. I mailed that letter today. I also asked her to call me and leave me a voice message so I could have it forever. She did and I cried like a baby.
My letter to Amy:
Dear Ole Aim, (I've called her this since we met)
Amy, you are one of the most loyal and true people on this planet. You have so many friends who love you and that's because you know how to be a friend. You give of yourself freely and without reservation. You would give the shirt off your back to help someone. Even in this awful state you're in right now, a pain I cannot fathom, you welcome us all in. You laugh with us, talk sh%*, tell stories for hours and you never complain. You are giving all of us a gift. You're making us feel a part of your circle; you're including us. When I'm there with you it's hard to believe you are dying. You are so "life-giving!" When I leave, I feel like it's only for a little while. I'll see you again soon. You say, "Please come back" like it's a normal thing. It isn't but yet it is.
That's you, Aim. You are a true gift to me and all who know you. All these years you've been there for me. We sure didn't see much of one another over the last 20 years, but I knew I could always count on you and vice versa. You had my back from Day One. You are fierce. You are a Protector for all you love. You're a giver and you are the truest of friends. I am privileged to have you in my corner.
I will never forget what you said to the Hospice nurse the first time they came to do their assessment. The nurse was going over your meds and she asked you, "What are you taking for anxiety?" Without missing a beat, you replied, "Nothing. I'm not anxious. What do I have to be anxious about? I know where I'm going. I have a brother who is already there." I LOVED your response and that hit me like a ton of bricks. SHE'S RIGHT! If we know where we are going, what is there to be anxious about? You, AMY SPRINKLE, are my hero. YOU ARE MY FREAKING HERO!!!!! You are the bravest fighter I know. You're giving this cancer hell. It doesn't understand you. Those on the outside watching are in awe of your courage and your spirit and your positive outlook all while you are battling horrendous pain and discomfort. You are a Warrior! There is only one Aim. Lord, Amy, I'm going to miss you but I know one day I will see you again and we can cut up and carry on and find all kinds of ways to get into mischief. Heaven will be on high-alert as soon as you walk through the gate! All of Heaven is in for a real treat when you get there.
You are amazing. You have always been amazing. Your life has been a bright light in this crazy world. You shine wherever you go. You've been a life raft for so many. You are leaving behind a true legacy. You have poured your time and love into so many and now we are all better people for it. You've lived an extraordinary life. Be proud of that. Be sure that what you've given, what you've taught, will live on--all because you cared.
I couldn't be more proud to call you my friend, my sister, my family--forever and always,
I love you, dear Aim,
Dawnie (this is what she calls me)
Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound!
I will see you later...
My prayer is that this suffering won't last much longer. My prayer is that Amy will feel true peace in leaving. Jan and I believe she is holding on so strongly for her mother's sake. My heart is heavy with sadness at losing her but so filled with happiness that she knows Jesus and she will be held lovingly in His arms for eternity.
So many people have been to see her in the last four weeks. Amy said, "They've been coming out of the woodwork. It's like everybody I ever cared about in life is coming to see me." She's right...we are coming because we love her and she has made a tremendous impact on all our lives. It is so important to tell the people we love, we love them. Tell them how important they are to us, what a difference they've made in our lives, etc... Tell them NOW while they're still here on this earth. It won't matter one iota at the funeral.
Here's to AMY!!
Yes, girl, I will see you later!
When she told me the news of her cancer, I thought she would beat it. I mean, it's Amy Sprinkle for Pete sake! She is tough as nails! Secondly, it's breast cancer. Breast cancer patients are cured all the time nowadays. I prayed and hoped that would be the case. She sounded so positive when we messaged each other. She would do the chemo, the radiation, and it would be done. She would be well. Unfortunately, the getting well part was not part of God's plan. A few months ago she messaged me that she had "this place" on her arm. The doctors were treating it. I told her, "You gotta kick its ass! If anyone can, you can!" She agreed. Well, Amy has been fighting the battle of her life and she has fought bravely and hard and she has dug her heels in trying to beat this thing. It isn't working. The doctors told her the treatments aren't touching it. They have nothing else to throw at her. They have given her three of the strongest chemotherapy treatments available and nothing is making a difference with this aggressive type of cancer. The chemo didn't even make her sick. She didn't lose one hair on her head! It's crazy.
I received a call a few weeks ago now from Jan, her sister. "Dawn, Amy is not doing well. The doctors have called Hospice. If you want to see her, then you should come soon." WHAT???? I was floored. Obviously, Amy hasn't been giving me the whole story all these months.
Let me tell you a bit about my friend, my cousin, Amy. She is one of the hardest working people I've ever met. She is extremely stubborn. She can knock a person out if she wants to. She has been known to cuss like a sailor. She is 4th out of 6 siblings...only 1 sister, that should tell you something. Her greatest love is fishing. She can fish all day; she has the patience of Job with those fish! She has taught many young kids how to fish and in so doing, she also taught them about life. She poured her life into these kids when they desperately needed guidance and love and someone to spend quality time with them. These kids are now adults and doing well. In fact, each one has been back to see Amy at some point in the last few weeks. They have told her how much she means to them and what an impact she has had on their lives. It's amazing. It's right. She deserves all the love.
I've now been to see her three times and each time I leave I wonder if this will be the last. Amy makes it really hard to say good-bye. When I visit, she seems her old self. She talks and laughs; she eats and gets up and walks to the kitchen and goes to the bathroom and then back to the couch; she pretty much can take care of herself right now. She does have to have help with some things but overall, she's doing it. So it's like visiting just for a visit. I've decided this is her gift to us. She's making it easy. It's far from easy for either of us or anyone for that matter, but she is being a RockStar for all who love her. She doesn't want us to see her in severe pain or lethargic or not mentally alert. In fact, her pain meds are pretty low on the mg side for that very reason. She amazes even the doctors. The doctors can't believe she is still here; they've never seen anything like her. You see, Amy's entire chest down to her belly button is covered in the most horrendous blisters. COVERED. These blisters ooze and bleed and are extremely painful. They're big and her skin is dark dark red in places. No one can touch her except to change the bandages on a daily basis. Her sweet sister does this most of the time. She is the only person Amy trusts to do it "right." Hospice tries but it just upsets her. The blisters are spreading down her arm and going around the back of her shoulder now. I've seen them. I don't know how she is surviving it. As Jan was changing the bandages, Amy said, "Dawn, you might not want to see this. It's like a bell you can't unring." I told her, "Yes, I do. It's you, Amy." I was inwardly horrified. The blisters are the cancer coming on out to the outside because it has nowhere else to go. My heart broke for her.
Amy and I met when I was 16 and she was 18. I got a job at Ingle's grocery store working in the deli department. Amy was the biscuit and doughnut maker. Amy is full of piss and vinegar and rough around the edges and we had the BEST time working together. She liked to pull pranks on occasion; she joked and laughed and in so doing, made the job rather enjoyable. As we got to know one another, we discovered we were related. We are cousins. This would be on my grandmother's side of the family, the Wheelers. Amy and I got into a lot of mischief in the next few years. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Amy hated wearing dresses and I made her wear a long pink ruffled taffeta dress. It was the best! She did it for me. Amy was more like a boy than a girl, such a tom-boy her whole life. Seeing her in that dress is forever etched in my memory. She drove to TN to visit me in college once. She drove to Winston when I moved back to NC in 1997. She drove back to Winston so we could attend our first Garth Brooks concert. Top concert to this day! Amy has always been there for me. We didn't see each other very much once I moved away from Asheville, but I knew she was only a phone call away. During those young teenage years from 16-20, we were Buds. Amy has this loud glorious laugh. I hope I never forget what it sounds like. Just her laugh makes me laugh. She has a million stories to tell. She even wrote a little book about her family and the crazy stories throughout the years when they were all kids. The saying, "You can't make this stuff up" definitely fits her family!
These three times that I've been to see her, I haven't been able to tell her how much she means to me. There have been so many people around. I told her Sunday night when I got back home that I was going to write her a letter. I had to tell her how much she means to me before it was too late. I mailed that letter today. I also asked her to call me and leave me a voice message so I could have it forever. She did and I cried like a baby.
My letter to Amy:
Dear Ole Aim, (I've called her this since we met)
Amy, you are one of the most loyal and true people on this planet. You have so many friends who love you and that's because you know how to be a friend. You give of yourself freely and without reservation. You would give the shirt off your back to help someone. Even in this awful state you're in right now, a pain I cannot fathom, you welcome us all in. You laugh with us, talk sh%*, tell stories for hours and you never complain. You are giving all of us a gift. You're making us feel a part of your circle; you're including us. When I'm there with you it's hard to believe you are dying. You are so "life-giving!" When I leave, I feel like it's only for a little while. I'll see you again soon. You say, "Please come back" like it's a normal thing. It isn't but yet it is.
That's you, Aim. You are a true gift to me and all who know you. All these years you've been there for me. We sure didn't see much of one another over the last 20 years, but I knew I could always count on you and vice versa. You had my back from Day One. You are fierce. You are a Protector for all you love. You're a giver and you are the truest of friends. I am privileged to have you in my corner.
I will never forget what you said to the Hospice nurse the first time they came to do their assessment. The nurse was going over your meds and she asked you, "What are you taking for anxiety?" Without missing a beat, you replied, "Nothing. I'm not anxious. What do I have to be anxious about? I know where I'm going. I have a brother who is already there." I LOVED your response and that hit me like a ton of bricks. SHE'S RIGHT! If we know where we are going, what is there to be anxious about? You, AMY SPRINKLE, are my hero. YOU ARE MY FREAKING HERO!!!!! You are the bravest fighter I know. You're giving this cancer hell. It doesn't understand you. Those on the outside watching are in awe of your courage and your spirit and your positive outlook all while you are battling horrendous pain and discomfort. You are a Warrior! There is only one Aim. Lord, Amy, I'm going to miss you but I know one day I will see you again and we can cut up and carry on and find all kinds of ways to get into mischief. Heaven will be on high-alert as soon as you walk through the gate! All of Heaven is in for a real treat when you get there.
You are amazing. You have always been amazing. Your life has been a bright light in this crazy world. You shine wherever you go. You've been a life raft for so many. You are leaving behind a true legacy. You have poured your time and love into so many and now we are all better people for it. You've lived an extraordinary life. Be proud of that. Be sure that what you've given, what you've taught, will live on--all because you cared.
I couldn't be more proud to call you my friend, my sister, my family--forever and always,
I love you, dear Aim,
Dawnie (this is what she calls me)
Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound!
I will see you later...
My prayer is that this suffering won't last much longer. My prayer is that Amy will feel true peace in leaving. Jan and I believe she is holding on so strongly for her mother's sake. My heart is heavy with sadness at losing her but so filled with happiness that she knows Jesus and she will be held lovingly in His arms for eternity.
So many people have been to see her in the last four weeks. Amy said, "They've been coming out of the woodwork. It's like everybody I ever cared about in life is coming to see me." She's right...we are coming because we love her and she has made a tremendous impact on all our lives. It is so important to tell the people we love, we love them. Tell them how important they are to us, what a difference they've made in our lives, etc... Tell them NOW while they're still here on this earth. It won't matter one iota at the funeral.
Here's to AMY!!
Yes, girl, I will see you later!
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