During my unemployment in January 2009 I received word that my former co-worker Diana Knight had died from breast cancer. Her husband JW gave me a photograph and permission to use her real name, so I have modified the original blog I had posted with the pseudonym "Kay" to honor Diana the way she deserves.Diana had been diagnosed a few months before I was. I was pregnant with Kelric when she was in treatment. I remember vividly our conversation one day when I had a noticeable belly. She said that chemotherapy left her feeling nauseated unless she ate small amounts of food throughout the day. I had been dealing with that thanks to morning sickness. She teased that it felt like morning sickness but for a less happy reason. I remember telling my husband about the conversation that night, remarking how grateful I felt that I didn't have cancer. Little did we know, of course, that I did have breast cancer! It just hadn't been diagnosed yet.
Diana's breast cancer had already made it to the chest wall when she was diagnosed, so she was at Stage IV from the get go. I marveled at the way she handled it.
Diana continued to work during treatment. She only took enough time off to deal with surgeries, appointments and infusions. She earned a promotion to a vice president position within the operations side of the company and she rose to the new responsibilities. People in our office and a regional office reported to Diana. Her entire Austin staff wore survivor bracelets in her honor. The bracelets had pink and white beads with silver ornaments and they were handmade by one of Diana's staff, a fellow breast cancer survivor.
Diana continued to travel as part of her work. She even influenced her local cancer center to accommodate her travel schedule by staying open a little late just for her. That is something I would never be brave enough to insist a cancer center do. She had a great philosophy, though, that she was the consumer and the cancer center was the provider. She was paying them a great deal of money so they could bend a little to help keep her treatments on schedule. Go Diana!
I admired Diana. I appreciated her strength and her positive attitude.
We talked about our cancers after I returned from maternity leave. I read to her the Awakening of the Tiger Woman poem I had recently written. It made her cry. Later that day she showed up in my office with a survivor bracelet just like her staff wore. That made me cry. I was so touched to have that bracelet and all the hope and sisterhood it symbolized.
I'm fuzzy on the details, but I know that Diana’s first brain tumor showed up around the time she completed chemotherapy or shortly thereafter. The second brain tumor was situated near where the first one had been, so within a year she had endured two surgeries to remove brain tumors. She went through radiation to her head. She never stopped wearing her wigs to work. The radiation affected her memory and made it more challenging for people to work with her in this new absent-minded form. Her husband stopped working so that he could drive her where she needed to go. Eventually she needed perpetual chemotherapy. "Cancer's always in my body somewhere," she told me. The drugs would knock it down one place and it would show up someplace else.
She battled breast cancer for four years before her body developed resistance to all the help chemotherapy could give her. I'd see her in the break room occasionally and touch base with how she was doing. She was always upbeat around me.
I know that I preferred to put on my most positive face when I was around others and I would try to only let my husband see the moments that revealed pain or fear. But Diana would not just appear in a room and avoid sounding scared or depressed. She would effectively sashay into the room and own it. It was impossible to feel sorry for Diana when she exuded such confidence and serenity.
Diana had no use for remembering the names of the chemotherapy agents. I knew what drugs I had been given. I learned their scientific names and their common names and how they each worked and roughly for what kind of cases they were appropriate. Diana had no idea what drugs she was given and didn't care. It was unfathomable to me to choose to be so out of touch with what the medical team was doing to your body.
Diana was just at the other end of the spectrum from me. I’m of the My Doctor Is My Partner In Treatment And We Make Important Decisions Together camp and Diana was of the Just Tell Me When And Where To Show Up So I Can See My Daughter Graduate High School And Get Married camp.
I spent the first half of my chemotherapy treatments on leave and when I did return to work I couldn't handle the 40-hour work week because chemo was so rough on me. I told Diana that I admired her for being able to work full time and overtime while in treatment. She would even work from her notebook computer during treatment.
She told me the difference was that I had a newborn at home and she admired me for coping with a baby while going through chemo. Oh yeah, I had forgotten about that little detail. That exchange taught me to appreciate the different situations and the different ways people handle them. There is no one "right" way to cope with chemo and it's okay to accommodate your own situation and your own body's ability to handle treatment.
I lost the beloved survivor bracelet Diana had given me. It tore me up. The clasp used a circle on one side and a rod on the other side, and sometimes it would work itself loose and just fall off my wrist. A day came when I saw it in the morning and missed it by the afternoon, and had no idea when or where it disappeared. I waited a while before confessing the loss to Diana. She took it in stride. The co-worker who had made the original had quit and moved on, but Diana still saw her at professional association get-togethers and Diana promised to ask her to make a new one for me.
Diana kept her promise. The new bracelet was too big. It had a “lobster claw” clasp but just rolled off my wrist. I didn't say anything to Diana about that. I felt extremely grateful to have a substitute symbol to support Diana’s fight with cancer as well as my own.
Later I found my original bracelet. It turns out that the last time it fell off I had put it in my purse until I could take it to a jeweler to have a safety chain added. I had forgotten about it and failed to turn up the bracelet when I later searched my purse - twice. After having confessed the loss to Diana and having received a new bracelet, I couldn't bring myself to tell her I had found the original. So instead I quietly passed the new survivor bracelet on to a new survivor, the co-worker of one of my friends. I confessed the bracelet’s history to her and felt delighted when she said she would have earrings made from some of the beads so it would be small enough for her tiny wrist.
By giving away the second survivor bracelet I got to share the sentimental wealth as a giver, and I know that Diana would have approved. I had the safety chain added to my original bracelet and it remains a special gift, now laced with a kiss of sadness as it holds the memory of someone lost from the land of the living.
Diana's daughter is only 14 years old. All she wanted was to live long enough to see her daughter grow up and get married, and now that wish will remain forever unfilled.
Diana's memorial service is coming up. She wanted to be cremated, so those wishes were fulfilled and her memorial was put off to coincide with her birthday.
I have a new job with new co-workers now. I'm looking forward to seeing many of my former co-workers at the memorial service. My new place of employment has a cemetery adjoining the north side of the property. We see the gravesides set up for services, and the mounds of fresh flowers left behind afterwards. It often leaves me to reflect upon how funerals and memorials are rituals meant for the living, to help us honor and properly say good-bye to the dead. I'm looking forward to participating in that ritual soon so I can honor Diana and chorus to her husband and daughter that Diana was a special, vibrant woman whose life touched others.
My memories of Diana are linked with traits of strength and bravery, of never giving up, and of accepting bad circumstances without letting them rule you. I know she will be pleased that I still celebrate her life even as I honor her death. I still admire her.
Goodbye, Diana. We miss you.
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