I guess after the healing inside my body, the way I look has been just as difficult to accept. I hated the way people stared at me after I lost my hair. The indention in my head also bothered me a lot. I know it is never going to go away, and the child in me wanted to fill it in with Silly Putty. I felt like the monster in "The Goonies" until Steve changed that for me in the blink of an eye. Without even asking, he put his finger in the indention on my head and said to me, "God put His hand on you and said, 'this is my Patsy" That one statement changed the way I thought about my "look" and took all of the hurt about it away. He helped me see that I am truly one of God's special children!

My Mountain Has a Name

By Patsy Wilder Brown

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Patsy Wilder Brown
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-1355-1

Chapter One

An excursion or adventure can be planned or unexpected. Usually when it is planned, it goes a little better. I definitely didn't sign up for mine voluntarily, but it has been an important journey with many lessons learned. This is my true story; a tale of unbelievable experiences that I never dreamed would ever happen to me.

Each morning as I sit watching the sun rise above the trees and the day starts to come alive, I think of my life and the wonderful ride it has been so far. I know that usually life is what you make it, but there are times that your life takes unexpected turns, and you must adjust to those changes. It is when you encounter the mountain that is too high, and your energy to climb it bottoms out that things really get interesting.

Yep, I did hit that mountain head-on and for the first time in my life, it was an obstacle I could not get over or around. I came to this realization as I lie on the ground examining new mysterious scrapes and bruises on my body; my days had become less than ordinary, so I knew that I probably needed to re-direct my planning. The first step I had to figure out was how to get the healing process started. One thing I knew; I could not continue to lie around and watch the wounds multiply. I had to form a plan and fast. Even though I had decided to take action, I saw "my" mountain looming before me as a frightening obstacle.

I thought through my predicament, and then started my plan of action ... at least that's what I thought I was doing at the time. I began looking for a path to go up or around the mountain feeling I could solve this problem, but as hard as I looked, I could not find it. I kept searching for the path, or even the start of a trail until I was exhausted, and all I could do was lie still and rest because a beginning point was nowhere in sight. All I could think was, how did this happen? My life was on track to finally be able to do some things. I had a job that I loved and was making good money. We could finally afford to buy some extra things and go places. For the first time in many years, we did not have to account for where every penny went, so I had to do something in order not to lose this place in life.

I decided to start my ascent without a path or a trail ... but with no luck. I kept sliding back down and being injured more in the process. As I lie at the bottom, all I could do was wonder how was I going to climb over this mountain and still be able to maintain the things I had with no losses. I had responsibilities that must be met, so I thought I had no choice. Since going over the mountain had already proven to be impossible, around was the next logical choice, but for each step I took, I fell back three. This was also proving to be the wrong choice for my dilemma.

I decided then that my only option was to seek help. Finally, I could see hope to get over my mountain. My help had a plan ... a path, so we began together. We started making some progress, but once we got to even the first foothold, I fell back down and was left at the bottom again. So, I looked for new help and am told that the problem would be solved, and we definitely would get over the mountain; however, not without some permanent health problems that could be controlled. No problem, I was on-board for my pain to be gone and was excited. We started making a dent in the mountain, and the pain was not so intense and then wouldn't you know it, I fell back to the ground and lie there again ... alone.

After two falls back to the ground, my pain was almost unbearable, and I decided to try one more time for help. I thought about it and finally, I knew where to turn. I was told to trust, and we would conquer the mountain, and I would be on the other side. Yep, I was skeptical, but what choice did I have at this point? I knew I must do something because my injuries were getting worse and harder to control.

So, I scooted over to the base of my mountain one more time and thus, my journey began for the third time! We made it to the first foothold with little or no effort because I was being carried and glad of it. After several days of climbing up and then going around, we finally reached the top. What I saw below scared me to death, but at that point I had no choice ... I had to continue. My mountain now had a name ... "CANCER!" I was assured that I would not be left alone, but it was going to be a hard descent. I knew I was ready for the pain to stop, but not sure about the things that I was going to lose in the process. I thought the climb up and around was difficult; I had no idea how hard the trip down would be.

My life began playing out in my mind like a reel on a movie projector. It started with my brother Jim and I who are only eleven months apart (with Jim being the oldest). We could get into all sorts of things. What one of us could not think to do, the other could. We did everything together, and ... we knew no fear. Ok, let me clarify here, I knew no fear because I could not see well, but it would seem Jim did know fear, so he always wanted me to do things first because his eyesight was perfect, and I think he knew what was coming.

It was very unusual for Mom to leave us alone outside and the one time she did, we took advantage of it. Our mom is pretty short; we had almost gotten taller than her by the time we were five or six years old. Our "height" made us feel bigger than we were making us think we didn't need to listen to her. So with our intelligence, on our day of outside freedom, we decided to climb up a tree and transfer ourselves over to the top of the garage. Once we successfully made it to the garage, we looked down and Jim decided we should jump. The ground looked very close to me, of course, because of my limited eyesight; however, I realized my mistake when I hit the ground. I could not yell and warn Jim not to jump because I was not breathing. This was not a problem since he decided when he saw my condition that he would climb back down the way he got up. Finally, I was able to get some air into my lungs and knew that I had learned a lesson at a very young age ... next time get him to go first, and if he refuses, then don't do it!

I was a clumsy kid always running into things and falling down. For example, our bathroom was a straight shot from the living room and even though I would line the door up as my target destination, I would miss it every time and hit the wall. Mom and Daddy decided they should have my eyes checked. As my parents took a closer look at me, it appeared that my left eye was resting over against my nose. The doctor told them I had a "lazy" eye, and my good eye should be patched in order to strengthen the weaker one. Now, on top of having to manage with my weak eye doing all of the work, I also looked like a miniature pirate with a head full of curls. By the time I was seven years old, it was obvious that the patch was doing no good, so surgery was the next step.

I remember Daddy telling me that if I was a big girl and did not cry that he would get me the bride doll that I so desperately wanted. When he carried me to the operating room doors where the nurses took me from him, I remember screaming and crying for him despite my commitment to be brave. The neat thing was that when I woke up in my room, there sat my bride doll ... all I could think was that Daddy did not hear my screams for him.

Mom always made me feel so special even after my sister Beth was born. I was ten years old at the time, and I loved my new sibling dearly. I felt that she was my baby, and I treated her as such. I carefully changed diapers. When she was a baby there were no disposable diapers so cotton diapers were the thing to use and they had to be fastened with pins. I would also give her bottles and just sit and hold her. She was sick a lot as a baby, so Mom had to spend time at the hospital with her ... but I never felt that Mom neglected me. Somehow she found time to balance between all of us kids.

Mom had us in church every Sunday because she knew that we would need a firm foundation of belief as we grew. Little did she know how much I was going to need that foundation as I battled cancer. Growing up in church, I was able to form life-long bonds. Today I attend church with many of the same people that I grew up with, and I have found their friendships to be very comforting at this time in my life.

Mom has always been an encourager constantly saying that I could be and do anything I set my mind to. She would tell me how smart I was and that nothing was out of reach for me. With Mom's words in mind, at the age of ten, I discovered my love of music. I joined the band and my choice of instrument was based on what my Uncle Joe played, the trumpet. He is my mom's youngest brother and had a great influence on me beginning as a small child. He would take me to look at cars with him or just spend the day with me. He and my Aunt Faye (they married when I was six), have always been a positive influence in my life, so naturally, the trumpet is what I wanted to play.

Later, in high school, I decided to take on the challenge of algebra ... wrong choice. I will never know what possessed me to take that stuff; I mean, I couldn't even pronounce it correctly. No matter how hard I studied (which if I remember correctly wasn't much), I could not get the hang of it. The only positive aspect about that experience was meeting a life-time friend Carla Davis, my algebra teacher. Of course, while I was in high school, we were not yet on a personal level, but it wouldn't have made any difference. Ultimately, I failed the class; however, that did not stop a friendship from forming. I think I am still not over that "F," but I do love Carla, and I've been able to overcome it and forgive her insensitivity. A bond began after she became my Sunday School teacher and helped me through the "goofy-looking high school kid awkward stage."

Even though high school was a struggle, I finally graduated in 1972. After graduation and still not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I went to work full-time at K-Mart. There I met the man that I would spend the rest of my life with ... I always tell people that I got Donnie from a "blue light special." We had two children ... Jaime, our daughter, and two years later, her little brother Chipper came along. I was a stay-at-home mom, and it was great.

Another turning point in my life happened when I lost my dad in 1983 to lung cancer. He lived only five months after the time of his surgery. I was devastated by his death and wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. I felt a lot of anger and frustration; I was a Daddy's girl and missed him desperately. I guess I didn't really grow up until I was thirty years old because I knew that as long as my dad was around that everything would be alright. Once he was gone, I had no choice.

I never dreamed that I could love anyone again like I loved my dad, but God is love and He can do amazing things. God sent D.C. Lee into our lives, and I was soon to feel the comfort of a father again. He did not become a step-dad, but my Pop. I knew from the very beginning that he was going to be there in any capacity that I needed. When Mom and D.C. (a.k.a. Pop) returned from their honeymoon, I had to immediately call upon him for help with my disabled car. The transmission decided to stop operating in forward, so he and Mom came at once to my aide. He backed it all the way to his house - about five miles. With the car in a safe place, he started making calls. What touched me was that he did not tell people that his "step-daughter" needed help, but instead, he said his "daughter" needed help. I knew at that point that he was not a step-dad; he was going to be far more than that. I started thinking of a name that I could call him that meant "love" to me. It did not take long before I decided on "Pop" because his love was coming at me constantly. He has filled those shoes that my dad left vacant, and I am thankful every day for Pop.

As my kids grew, I found they needed me less, and I was getting bored. On my thirty-ninth birthday, I decided that it was time to do something else with my life. Jaime was sixteen and Chipper was fourteen, so it was now or never. As I was pondering about what to do, my mom's words came back to me, and I was dumb enough to believe that she must be right. I told her that I was going back to school. Her response was, "How old will you be in a year?" I told her forty. She then replied, "Right you are-with or without a degree!" She meant that life was going to go on whether I was in school getting an education or sitting at home doing nothing. My choice for school was confirmed.

With that decision made, I enrolled in college to become a nurse ... SCHREECHING HALT! I was going to have to take micro-biology, and I told them they might as well send me to Hell as make me do that. That pursuit lasted about one quarter when I made up my mind to go into x-ray. X-ray was the definite right decision for me ... I loved being an x-ray tech. I struggled through school, but I stuck to it and proved my mom right, and in December 1997, I graduated with an Associate's Degree in Applied Science.

When my symptoms of the brain tumor started, I was working in an emergency room with a seven-on/seven-off shift. I absolutely loved my job. I not only took x-rays, but I was trained to do Cat Scans, as well. I enjoyed the patients and some of the interaction with them. It was more than a job to me ... it was a place that I could help people in my own little way. I would sing to them if they were scared, and if they were difficult, I could handle that part too. Little did I know that I would soon be like one of my patients in need of care.

* * *

I will never forget that day in April 2011. I had just turned 58 years old, and my world began crumbling under me. Until that point, I had been able to cope with what I felt was my most difficult issue; Chipper, our only son, was in the county jail and more than likely facing prison for burglary. As I hit my mountain, life as I knew it disappeared in a heartbeat. I had to do a quick evaluation of who I was and where this illness was going to take me including the possibility that it could further separate me from Chipper.

One thing I knew, my life was going to start moving in directions I never dreamed possible. Everything I was made of and believed in was about to change ... FOREVER! I have had to work hard at times to achieve the goals I had set for myself. I had the courage to try anything. I felt that I had no boundaries ... my opportunities were limitless. I had no fear, but I quickly became afraid of most everything.

Things moved at a rate of speed that I could not keep up with once I was carried up my mountain. I was only able to live in the present ... I had no visions of my future at that point. Did I have a future? I suddenly remembered my dad and his battle with cancer. Was I going to have the same fate as he had? He only lived five months. All I could do was have faith that God would put me in the right hands. I had to have faith in myself to trust others because I was certain that there was no quick fix for what was wrong with me.

With all of the uncertainty, I was sure of one fact; I would have Donnie, my husband, to go the long haul with me. I thank God daily for my "Sweet Man," and how he loves me. I felt as though I had lost my footing, but he would be the person to make sure that I would not fall. He was going to be there in the middle of the storm as well as when everything calmed down and people left to go about their lives.

My health began failing fast ... I could feel a difference every day. The left side of my forehead was very sore to the touch, as if I had bumped it. Then I started having severe headaches on the left side of my head. Sleep had become a luxury, a welcomed unconsciousness because time awake was almost unbearable. So, being the experienced tech that I am, I diagnosed myself with shingles inside my head. Now, I know people thought there was not much sense to my diagnosis. Give me a break! Shingles? Even I had to admit that wasn't it. The pain got worse, so I saw a pain neurologist who then diagnosed me with Trigeminal Neuralgia which is a nerve disorder that causes facial pain. This pain is often only on one side around the eye, cheek, and lower part of the face because the trigeminal nerve is the largest of the twelve nerves in the skull. I had all of the symptoms, so it was diagnosed and medications started.

It shortly became obvious that no matter how much medication I took, my head still hurt constantly. The pain started in my left eye and some days, that eye would not cooperate enough to even open very far. Thank the good Lord above, it was my lazy eye that was affected because if it had been on the other side, I would have been seriously sight impaired. This was something to be thankful for even in the most stressful of times.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from My Mountain Has a Nameby Patsy Wilder Brown Copyright © 2012 by Patsy Wilder Brown. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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