Priscilla

Tomorrow would have been, should have been my friend Priscilla's 57th birthday. She died in 1992 at the age of 43. We lost Priscilla to a cancer that never should have killed her. She was too embarrassed to go in for regular pap smears. Sometimes I'm still angry with her. But the days and weeks right before her death are the ones that supply me with the best memories. My favorite is of when we were all seated around her hospital bed---her mother, husband and I---waiting, just waiting for whatever would come next. She's was comatose---had been for a few days---and we were doing our best to keep her comfortable and ourselves occupied with the business of keeping her comfortable. She was sleeping on a pad filled with gel, to reduce the possibility of bedsores, though why, I do not know. What is a bedsore when you are dying of cancer? The head of the bed was elevated and Priscilla kept sliding down into the flat portion of the bed. Her husband and mother, or husband and me or mother and me or any combination thereof, kept lifting her under the arms and pulling her up to the top of the bed. After doing this a dozen or so times over the course of a couple of days, Priscilla shot up into a seated position and yelled, "God-fucking-damnit! Everytime I start to get comfortable, you fucking assholes pick me up and move me." She then quietly laid back down and went to sleep for another day before she died. Those were her last words. And I smile, then chuckle, then laugh out loud when I remember them. Priscilla was always such a lady, she was delicate and feminine, well-mannered and considerate. She didn't smoke, drink or swear in all the years I knew her. I used to tease her and call her Prissy. But with those words, she taught me about dignity and courage. Apparently she was a lot tougher than I thought.
The following summer I was diagnosed with the same type of cancer that killed Priscilla. I would probably not have gone in for an exam if it weren't for her.
In a way, she saved my life by losing hers.
I promised Priscilla's mother that I would share her story with people every year to commemorate her life and to possibly save someone else's.
PLEASE see your doctor for an annual Pap Smear and HPV test.