Ghost of Cancers Past -- KUDO's to South Sacramento Medical Facility

'Twas the night before surgery and all through the house their wasn't any noise, no sounds could be heard. I was surrounded in silence and overwhelmed in sadness I rose from my bed and got in the shower.

As the water rinsed over my body, I trembled and the tears flowed. I cried out so loud, "Please God don't take me away from my family, please don't take me away from my community. Who will love my children as only a mother can love?"

I fell to the shower floor on my knees praying, water pouring over my head, "Forgive me for all my sins. Forgive me if I have become filled with pride, ego, anger. I know you don't need me to fight the greed and deceit both within and surrounding my community but please don't take me away from fighting the battle. Oh God I am so scared. Cancer is perhaps the only thing I am scared of."

I cried and cried. As I stood in the shower I was visited by the ghosts of cancers past.

I recall as a teen my Aunt Alice suddenly ill and diagnosed with colon cancer. She was the pillar in her family and labored endlessly for her children. She was so beautiful. Then she died of cancer.

Aunt Alice was the first that I knew who died in her family, then her two brothers died of cancer and her sister Aunt Rosie Pearl was diagnosed with colon cancer. They were each and all so very beautiful. Cancer came and took all four lives.

I recall my paternal grandmother returning from a weekend fishing trip and going to the doctor and everything changed. She would quickly go from rising early hours where I'd awaken to the smell of hexol as she cleaned and bacon as she cooked.

She would put on long rubber boots and go to her backyard garden picking fruit to can her jam, cutting fish, picking walnuts from her front yard tree and cooking us, her grandchildren, the best down-home cooking and beautiful pies.

When she returned home from one fishing trip she was diagnosed with colon cancer and given six months to live. She died in four months. I recall standing at her bedside holding her hand the night she died begging please don't leave me. She shed a tear and squeezed my hand I walked out the room and she was gone.

My paternal grandfather Earthly came back to Sacramento from Arkansas when my grandmother was ill with cancer. We would go for walks in Oak Park where he would visit old friends. He was so funny, he was a ladies man.

I learned from him. Old ladies and old men need love, too. My grandmother would laugh and say, "Rhonda, go and see if your grandpa is down to Miss Minnies' or one of the other ladies and tell him to come back to the house."

By the time I got to know my grandpa, cancer came and took him. Cancer came and took him shortly after my grandmother, both dying in their early 60s. Then cancer would come to visit my family earlier than 60 with late 40s being the target.

My Aunt Clarissa was the closest person to a saint that I have ever known. I don't think she ever harmed anyone in her life. I don't think she ever raised her voice angrily at anyone.

She didn't curse, gossip or hate anyone or anything. Her smile was radiant and infectious. She was always there for her family. When I was pregnant with my first born she asked to be her godmother. I felt so blessed for my daughter to have such a beautiful spirit of love as a godmother.

Aunt Clarissa was a mother's love. She was diagnosed with colon cancer and I watched her fight to live for her children and live to love unconditionally and die surrounded by those who loved her.

My aunt asked if her youngest daughter Jamie, who lived in Arizona, had arrived. Jamie came into the room. Aunt Clarissa, waited for her last child to arrive before she would depart. She loved us all to the end, not leaving us until we were all together.

She looked up and said, "Goodbye." My aunt never reached the age of 50. Shortly after, as we all were standing nearby, a tear escaped from my aunt's eye and we watched her quietly take her last breath.

My Aunt Clarissa made her baby sister, my mother, promise to get screened for cancer. At 49, my mother Charlotte was screened. Polyps were found and it was determined they were malignant. Her spleen was removed. She fought so hard to live.

My mother also lived for her children. Her love went to her family and extended to any neighborhood youth in need. My mother was beautiful and a fighter. She loved us with all she had.

My biological father, Harvey went to the dentist for what he thought was a tooth abscess. It turned out to be cancer. He was in stage five by the time he found out he had cancer. He was given six months to live.

I recall standing at his bed side and his spirits were up. We laughed, joked and he asked about my mother. They had divorced when I was four. I was raised by my step dad, but my biological father was always in my life and always also in my heart.

I was pregnant with my youngest son and my father's cancer stressed me so much I was rushed to the hospital. I recall the doctor saying I was at risk of a miscarriage and they were concerned for the pregnancy. I was hooked up to machines and kept overnight.

I wanted to leave to go see my dad. The next morning my sister and my mother walked in the hospital room both with tears in their eyes. I thought I lost my baby. I was told I lost my dad. He died while I was in the hospital.

Strange thing is when I was in the hospital I felt a second breath. It was like a cough and then I caught my breath. I remember thinking my baby is okay. My baby is breathing again. I sat in my dad's memorial service and I wondered if he was in the hospital with me and while he sometimes missed giving me birthday gifts, perhaps his last gift to me was in dying that day to give my son -- his grandson -- the gift of life.

Someone once told me when one person dies another is to be born. My dad died at 47. He never made it to 50. I never had another miscarriage threat with my son and he was born beautiful and healthy. In fact he has my dad's eyes.

At 51, my mother awoke and we rushed her to the hospital. I recall standing in her room holding her hand and singing her favorite song, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray..."

I held her and cried out, "God, please don't take my sunshine away." I felt my mother also squeeze my hand. I left the room and went back in the waiting area where family had gathered. We saw so many die of cancer we had to keep her on life support, we had to fight to keep her alive.

But her body was swelling, she looked like she was drowning in her own body fluid. We had to let her go. My mother made us promise to get screened for cancer.

A few years ago I was screened and a polyp was removed from my colon. I saw a picture of it and it was the size of a large plum. I was told it was precancerous. To this day I believe my mother saved my life by making me promise to have the colonoscopy done.

When she was sick she took me to my first colonoscopy screening. The last two weeks, due to female issues I went to my Kaiser physician. In one week, I received four appointments including an ultra sound. My head was spinning as the tests showed a possible polyp in my uterus.

What was thought to be early menopause I learned could be cervical cancer. My mind started playing tricks on me. Could the polyp in my colon have broken off and spread to my uterus? Will I live to see 50? My aunt's and father didn't make it to 50 and my mother spent her 50th year fighting cancer and died at 51 years young.

I stood in the shower, until the ghost of cancers past left me.

I awoke at 5 a.m. in prayer and went to Kaiser for the 6 a.m. surgery. My dad, the one who raised me, and my sister was there at the hospital before I arrived. As I walked into the admitting office I thought how my dad, my sister and I were there with my mother admitting her for her last Kaiser stay.

I wondered if would this be the beginning of the end of a fight with cancer. The Kaiser admitting nurse and volunteers were wonderful.

When I went to Kaiser the day before for my lab work, I pulled in the parking lot and I saw my doctor walking into the medical building. He was walking and smiling. He's always smiling, always so welcoming.

When I went to the appointment, I asked him, "Dr. Puccinelli, why are you always smiling?" Jokingly I said, "You are always smiling, I need to know, are you on the sauce?"

We both laughed. His answer let me know sauce won't cause his hands to shake during my surgery. His hands were guided by the love of God. He told me his father was a physician and did house calls and was always smiling. He said it was his religious background, his faith. I knew when I went in to surgery God had put me in good hands and once again my prayers would be answered.

When I was called back in the post-op room, the nurse assigned to me was like an angel. She was so kind. She reminded me of my Aunt Clarissa. She was so beautiful her inner beauty shined and blended with her outer beauty.

The anesthesiologist was so kind. In fact everyone that attended to me was beautiful with a smile that seemed so genuine. I didn't know anyone but everyone seemed like a loving family. I kept saying I have to thank them and I was going to as soon as the nurse completed her task of giving me medication, but I was asleep before I could thank them and I didn't awake until the surgery was completed.

When I awoke I was sick, drowsy and tired and couldn't thank them. The beautiful people were also gone, moving on to the next surgery and the next person in need.

I came out the room to see my sister and was slightly startled. My sister, who is 11 months younger than me, looks just like my mother. She loves just like my mother. My dad told me, "Your doctor came out and said, 'She calls me Dr. Smiley. I am so happy to say we didn't find a polyp. We did take a biopsy and will have the results within the week. But everything looks good. I am so happy.'"

My dad held on to his bible and the electronic patient tracking system card given to him in the surgical waiting room. It's real neat they have a color-coded system which helps family members know every stage from inside the facility - in pre-op, transported to operating room, out period, return to pre-operation area, in operation, surgery is complete, patient waiting for hospital bed or ride home, discharged.

It was a good feeling to know that while I was inside the operating room being treated with great care my family members were treated with great care by Kaiser and kept informed during the entire process.

I am so happy to have a doctor who is "happy" when no polyp is found. I am happy with whomever does the hiring for the operation room personnel at South Sacramento Kaiser. I am not exaggerating when I say everyone that greeted and assisted me from the time I entered, filled with fear at 6 a.m., made my stay pleasant and filled with love.

It seems God sends loving people to me everywhere I go and every time I am filled with pain. God knows what we'll need before we do.

Kudos to South Sacramento hospital. I am blessed to have 2009 end with having and knowing the love extended by my physician Dr. Puccinelli, Kaiser admission office, Kaiser angelic nurse and everyone in the Kaiser Operating Room.

Rhonda Erwin: I am taking time off from posting to focus on my health and to work on what I pray is the last stage of my sons appeal. And I'm learning my prayers do get answered when I believe and love with all my heart. Merry Christmas to all and I wish you all blessings and a Happy New Year.