Joni

Three and a half years ago, our friend Joni told us she was in such pain that she went to the emergency room. Sadly, her diagnosis was stage 4 ovarian cancer. She took chemo, underwent surgery, and then had more treatments. At one time, she was in remission. Sadly, it was short lived.  Yet, she fought on, tried different treatments, kept a terrific attitude, inspired us all. She had these Cancer Conversations on Facebook.  I just looked for her last one. It was November 30.


Cancer Conversations #???
“How can I help?” 

This is such a great question to ask! Sometimes my answer though is going to be that I don’t have anything right now. Sometimes there are tasks that I only feel comfortable letting certain people do. That’s no reflection on you, it’s just I need to do what is easiest and most comfortable to me. Yeah, there maybe laundry that needs doing, but when my knickers are involved I don’t really feel like parceling that out to anyone who asks, you know?

So my exhortation is don’t be offended if I don’t have a task for you - your offer of help IS valued and I do keep it in my mind as future things come up.  <3 span="">

I also found this one from September 24, 2018


Cancer Conversations #24
The Club

There is so much about cancer that is different between the types of cancer - liver vs ovarian vs breast vs lymphoma, etc. But one thing is the same: when you get that cancer diagnosis you are inducted, unwillingly, into the Cancer Club. It's a fraternity (sorority?) most of us never think we will join, and that no one wants to join. 

Before cancer, I always thought that cancer was something that happened to other people, not to me and not to my family. Cancer was a "them over there" problem. I mean, I would have said that yes, cancer could happen to me, but when it comes down to what I believed, I believed it wouldn't happen to me. 

But now I am in the club. When a friend is diagnosed with cancer, I can relate. I know the fear, the questions, the unknown, the hope, the side effects, the grace extended. I had friends who were, for me, the 'trail guides" - having been through cancer, even if it wasn't the same kind, and were the example of what living with (and after) cancer looked like. They showed that hope and joy are still possible, even with the Big C. Now, three years into my own journey, I am able to be that same "trail guide" for others.



We knew Joni was doing poorly. She'd had fluid build up and drained from her abdomen and lungs back in October. She told us in November that the chemo wasn't working. She was weaker, and tireder, and not around as much.


She was admitted to the hospital on Christmas day, the doctors were not able to place the G tube as the family wished (too many tumors in her stomach), and just the day before her death, her husband had let me know via Messenger that Joni was home, the hospice nurse had just left, and they were worried about her oxygen levels dropping.  What they hoped would be weeks, turned into an estimated 72 hours.

Sunset; Bryson City, NC

While recovering from chemo, Joni sometimes enjoyed painting. I posted the above picture on Facebook after a late June 2018 trip to Bryson City, North Carolina.   A few days later she told me she had used my picture as an inspiration and painted something that I could have if I wanted. Of course I did!

I am thrilled to own it!

a gift from Joni

I met Joni over 15 years ago. Although I chose not to have children, I always enjoyed baby names. When my first nephew was expected, I went on Babycenter.com, and made a name poll. I don't think I met Joni there, but eventually several of us who commented on the name polls formed a private group at Yahoo Groups. Later we had another group at Yahoo, and later still we switched over to a private Facebook group. We've discussed about everything over the years. Even those things "polite society" says is not good to discuss with friends.


Although I never had the opportunity to meet Joni - she lived near Seattle and I never traveled to the West Coast, nor she to the South where I live - she was a dear, precious friend. There are about 12 or 15 of us that met on those Babycenter name polls and have gotten close over the years. A few are in NC (I've met them), Maryland (met one), Georgia, New York, South Dakota, Ohio (met her twice when she lived in the NC mountains years ago), California, Massachusetts - even one in Ottawa.


Last night, about ten of us were chatting on a Messenger thread.  It was like we were on this vigil - so sad about Joni, yet still laughing at memories and conversation. JLNL in Ohio suggested at 10:00 PM EST we each drink a beverage of our choice as a toast to Joni. She was having wine.  Sassy (a fellow NC gal) posted soon after that she was at Food Lion picking out her drink (a pineapple margarita).  Taff in NY decided to eat ice cream. Cey (one of our Marylanders) was out with her daughter at volleyball practice in D.C., but she picked up some donut holes  - "munchkins" - and iced coffee. Sommer (our Californian) had ghost pepper tequila. Carmen (in Georgia) had hard cider. V (in Massachusetts) had cookies and a raspberry peach smoothie. Elsa (in South Dakota) had beer. Niki (also in NC) drank water and fresh-from-the-oven Pillsbury hot chocolate rolls. (Read her blog post here.)  I got up, opened a box of chocolate covered cherries, and ate one followed by a swig of 2% milk straight out of the carton.   (I rarely eat so late, but I had to do it in solidarity with the girls. Also Sommer told me a few minutes ago that she ate a chocolate covered cherry last night because I did!)

It was a sweet time. My first online "vigil" that I recall. I think Joni would be happy that we all spent time together, thinking of her, shedding a few tears, joking around, remembering things - celebrating friendship.

December 1974 - January 2019

Her husband posted about an hour after I went to sleep that she was gone (12:44 AM EST). I was sad to wake up to the news of my friend's death, and I've been crying off and on all day. But I have faith that Joni is healed and happy and one day I will meet her in person, for the first time ever.

Until then, I will think of you whenever I hike at Max Patch. I remember you told me one time that this was your favorite of the places where I went.

We won't forget you. Love you, Friend.