Chapter 10 - O'Brien's Descend Upon Ohio - Mom and Dad's visit

Chapter Ten - The O'Brien's descend Upon Ohio- Mom and Dad's visit Jul 30, 2003

July 30, 2003, Mom and Dad came out soon after I was released from the hospital. They wanted to be there while I went through my second round of chemo just in case there were any more complications. The Doctor decided to cut my chemo dose to 75%. I still got the mouth sores and the bad taste in my mouth, but it was much better. No hospital stays.

Having my parents with me was comforting. Mom is a worker. She gets up early and is ready to do anything that needs to be done. Dad is also up early and ready to go. If anyone needs a ride somewhere he is the man for the job. My Father also enjoys going down to the corner coffee shop to chat and drink coffee of course. He used to be in sales and likes to meet and talk with new people. Even though he is in his mid seventies he continues to hone the skill of innocent flirting. Dad could never resist chatting it up with an attractive woman.


In the case of my illness, I sense that Dad is putting up a good front for me. He is having a difficult time dealing with me being sick. We lost my younger brother Kevin about six years ago. He suffered from Manic Depression or as they call it these days, Bipolar disorder. Life was not easy for Kevin. In his late teens his symptoms started appearing. He was plagued with voices in his head and delusions. My parents committed him on a few occasions, but the institutions just kept him doped up on Lithium, so life felt numb and pointless to him. He would often say that he couldn’t feel anything so why be alive.

When he got out he refused to take his medication. Being around him was difficult because he acted crazy. He would scream out," no," to the voices in his head while listening to extremely loud blaring music on his head phones. He didn't often engage in conversation The only thing that he would interact with was food. My parents argued a lot about how to handle the situation. My Father insisted that he stay on the meds if he was going to live with them. My Mother wanted that as well but had a more challenging time enforcing tuff love. He opted to stop the drugs and basically moved to the streets. Many homeless people are just that because they have some sort of mental illness or suffer from addiction problems.

He frequented a shelter where he ate and slept in St. Paul Minnesota. My Mom’s solution to that was to donate money to the shelter. If she gave him the money he would not necessarily spend it on the things he needed to. Having a homeless sibling was difficult. Occasionally he would come to family functions, but wouldn't connect with anyone. Being around him was uncomfortable for me because of his behavior. I felt a great deal of guilt about that when he passed away.

He died alone sitting on a bench at the age of 38. He just stopped breathing. Along with obesity, he suffered from Sleep Apnea. When he talked about heaven, he was a born again Christian, he used to say that the streets and homes were made of gold. Everything in heaven in his mind was perfect and he couldn’t wait to get there. I know his life on earth was far more challenging than my own and I pray that his after life is as perfect as he envisioned.

While my parents are visiting I get a call from a friend, Peggy Urwin, one of the kindest, most Catholic, women I've ever met. Peggy has heard about an Irish nun in Parma Ohio called sister Monica who has been known to heal people. There is a mass held at the Parish she works at every Wednesday evening for the sick. Peggy would like to take me there. After some thought I agree to go with My Mom, who is also one of the most devout Catholics you'll ever meet, Dad was not interested in attending.

Mom and I jumped in the car, excited and somewhat apprehensive about our journey. Even though I was skeptical, I wanted to go for my Mom. She has such a strong faith in God. I figured what could it hurt? We arrived early to get a seat. There were people in wheel chairs, on crutches, all with visible ailments. To look at me you wouldn’t think I was sick, other than the fact that I didn’t have any hair.

The mass was a typical Catholic service. After mass the healing nun came out and talked to us. She laid the ground rules in a thick Irish brogue; I recognized this because my Dad is also from Ireland. She had a strict manner, and a funny sense of humor. She reminded me of the nuns I had in school growing up, except she was funny. A list of rules followed. The sickest people were asked to talk about their illness. My friend nudged me with encouragement to tell my story.
Describing my cancer for the crowd was not easy, but I was upbeat and matter of fact with just a few tears. The healer called me up. I would be the first to have the special attention of prayer. As I sat in front of the congregation the nun and her counterparts laid their hands on my abdomen, head and shoulders and began to pray. I cried, my Mom cried and my friend cried. There was a lot of positive energy flowing around us. It was exhilarating, even for a skeptic. After the service a little Irish man ran up to me and told me I had a great attitude. He assured me I would need that to heal. He also stated that for prayer and healing to work I would truly have to believe in the possibility and continue to come back until I was cured.

That evening I couldn’t sleep. There was so much energy coursing through my body. Would the healing help me? It certainly couldn’t hurt. The Irish gentlemen hit the nail on the head when he said that one has to truly believe in the possibility that prayer can heal an individual. As I’ve said before. The mind is a powerful tool. The belief in something can become a person’s truth and reality. I wish I could harness the power of my mind to heal my body. The sun is coming up and I finally doze off.

The next day we were all buzzing about the healing. Mom was happy because she has an intense belief in the power of God and prayer. Her father was a Methodist Minister. And now she is the best converted Catholic you’ll ever meet. She seemed excited that I sought the help of religion to help myself get better. My Dad was amused by the stories and antics of the Irish nun and her counterparts. Both my parents were relieved to see that I would try any means necessary, within reason, to stay on this earth a little longer.




August 6, 2003, Mom and Dad are leaving today. The visit has been uplifting and meaningful. I’m sorry to see them leave, but they need to get back and we need a few days of rest before our next set of visitors come. My two oldest sisters are coming out in four days. They were here when I went through my first chemo therapy after my breast cancer. The kids are excited. The last time these particular Aunts were here they took them shopping and to the beach. The girls are looking forward to some similar outings.

Advice
If you are an adult daughter or son with an illness, let your parents help you by any means possible. They need to feel needed. Being the parents of a terminally ill child, no matter what age, is heart wrenching. Let them feel productive with their assistance.
People will research all kinds of cures for you. Why not try something you can believe in if it isn't too costly, or crazy, or above all, harmful.
Believe in the power of possibilities.