Thanks for the email messages to me. I've enjoyed hearing from you. It looks like almost 200 people have been reading my blog so far. Please note, the blogspot messages you send to me from the blog site do not include who you are or your email address. They are listed as "anonymous".
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Take care on the journey,
Linda
August 22, 2005
August 21, 2005
Don't Abort My Baby!
Hyperemesis Gravidarum – Don’t Abort My Baby!
Before cell phones. Before answering machines and long before cars had GPS systems to show one driving directions, I would spend hours driving home from work having taken the wrong turn from my nursing job in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia to our small newlywed apartment in Collegedale, Tennessee.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to follow directions or learn my way to and from work, but my mind was blurry after 2 months of severe, constant nausea and vomiting of pregnancy!
Often I had to pull over to the side of the road with intense waves of dizzying nausea and powerful racking episodes of retching. I usually had to wave away several Good Samaritans who would stop to see if I needed help.
Hardly so. I just needed to kneel down in the grass to be sick or sit by the side of the road with my head between my legs to keep from fainting.
During the day at work while making round with the doctors on the medical floor and stopping at every other bathroom to gag and be sick, the concerned doctors would ask a few questions and confidently write out a prescription for yet another antiemetic drug that they assured me would get rid of the perpetual, awful nausea. I accepted shots that knocked me out for hours, pills that didn’t stay down and suppositories that made me sleepy for days!
In desperation, we bought most every natural products suggested by well meaning friends and relatives. Every time someone else mentioned, “Morning sickness. Eat some crackers,” I was tempted to scream at them – but I didn’t have the energy! This was nothing compared to ‘morning sickness’. The thought of a cracker: The odor of any food at all: Fragrance of any type: Lights, noise or motions – all tied my stomach in knots and started the uncontrollable retching again.
It continued unabated day and night. I felt miserable, repulsive and vile. I looked ghastly and felt exhausted and depressed.
Everyone, including the doctors, said it would stop after a few weeks, but this did not show signs of slowing down!
Bill was confused and frustrated. He had heard this might be physiological and this assumption prevailed since no one had found any cause of cure for what we discovered had a name! Hyperemesis gravidarum. Excessive nausea and vomiting of pregnancy that could last the entire nine months!
Today there is much more information about this recognized disorder of pregnancy. It affects over 60,000 pregnant women each year making them unable to care for themselves or family for months at a time. It prevents adequate intake of food and fluids and can last the entire pregnancy as mine did. It causes prolonged fatigue, dehydration and metabolic imbalances. It can cause severe depression, and relationships can be badly strained. Thousands of women (25 percent) choose abortion out of desperation to relieve the misery and stress they face.
There’s a foundation called HER Foundation that is devoted exclusively to understanding Hyperemesis and it offers a network of support for all aspects of this often-misunderstood problem of pregnancy.
Now I understand that mothers with HG are unable to tolerate blinking or bright lights, the sight, thought or smell of food and even noise or movement.
Those who care for mothers-to-be with HG should understand that she will need to mourn the loss of a normal pregnancy and missing out on the ‘fun” of being pregnant. She will need help finding the path to healing emotionally. Because doctors are reluctant offer a treatment and the cause is virtually unknown, she may feel guilty and ashamed. Others often blame the mother for this extreme reaction. It is expected that she will have difficulty being assertive or thinking clearly due to metabolic imbalances. She may risk starvation, dehydration and need IV’s for hydration or even a feeding tube for nutrition.
Mothers with HG often don’t ask for help when they need it. They should be surrounded by loving people who understand them and will be supported in times of depression and with their feelings of helplessness and dependency. There is the longing to eat and drink normally, feeling of isolation and inability to prepare for the arrival of the baby.
Perhaps the most frustrating is other people’s perception that all this is only in her mind! I know all this to be true because I can remember feeling this way so many times and knowing that no one understood what was happening to my body. I did feel responsible, not only for the unplanned pregnancy but I constantly searched my mind for something terrible I had done to cause such catastrophic sickness.
But, this was in the early 70’s and we had even more trouble on the horizon. Bill had just graduated from college but had no job because Uncle Sam was beckoning to the call of war. Now it looked like I couldn’t hold down a job much longer if this excessive sickness didn’t stop. Bill simply didn’t know what to do with me.
Finally, it was decided that we would move in with his parents in Maryland where he could work with his brother roofing houses and I could try to work part time. I would be welcome to stay there until I was on my feet again if he was sent overseas.
The packing and travel made me feel even worse. Movements, riding in a car, flashing lights were all the things I shouldn’t have been exposed to but we didn’t know that and I didn’t have a choice. With no privacy for the constant retching that was aggravated by the movement of the car, I was almost out of my mind by the time we arrived. I was extremely ill.
Bill’s parents quickly helped him find medical care and a reputable doctor. I remember sitting with Bill looking across the doctor’s massive desk feeling like I was an object being spoken about and not addressed as a person. He said the only thing that would stop the nausea was an abortion. Directing his words to Bill, he said he would be willing to terminate the pregnancy if that was what I wanted.
I realized that if I didn’t take a stand for my baby, or if I got so sick that I couldn’t make a decision, that might be the end of my baby. We both wanted our baby more than anything! It might not have been planned, but there was never a question about how delighted we were to know we were going to be parents!
Right then and there I made Bill promise in front of that doctor that no matter how sick I got, or even if I ASKED for an abortion, that he would PROMISE me that it would NOT BE DONE! It was agreed that an abortion would not be a solution and I knew that I wouldn’t take any more medication for the nausea. That was about 3 months into a very long nine months.
The doctor said one good thing in my favor was that each time I was sick, I would have a few minutes of peace before the nausea started again. He urged to me eat as often as I could even if it didn’t stay down very long. I would get some nourishment from the food, he said.
Back then good Seventh-day Adventist did not drink carbonated beverages that had caffeine added, but when a well-meaning friend suggested that Coca-cola might help relieve the nausea, I tried it and found that at least it didn’t burn my throat coming back up like 7-Up did! I was embarrassed to have the family watch me sipping ice cold Coke, but in the end, that was the only fluid that I could tolerate.
So, my first real experience with Bill’s parents was not under the best of circumstances and I don’t think I ever got to put my best foot forward during our marriage. I always felt that I walked a tight rope and my many talents that seemed rather trite by their standards. They were always kind and loving but I often had the feeling that I didn’t quite measure up. Major decisions were made without my input and our personal problems came under parental scrutiny. The first year of our marriage set the stage for the emotional roller coaster that never quite got a chance to slow down.
During that long hot summer of 1971, Bill worked from sunrise to sunset on the hot roofs with his brother, Lerry. They made a good team and both worked hard. Sunburns turned to suntans and the days melted together with no let up in my sickness and no information on what the future held for us.
By summer’s end, I knew we couldn’t continue living with his parents. I didn’t want to be a burden especially if Bill wasn’t gong to be there. One day someone came up with an unusual but excellent idea! Why not go back to Laurelbrook School at Dayton, Tennessee and Bill could teach until he was called up and I could work at the nursing home when I felt better. The calls of inquiry were made and we were accepted!
So off we went again, pulling our little U-Haul trailer behind us and holding the little pink bucket bucket between us! Now I was six months pregnant. We had been married seven months. We had moved twice and I was looking to get my nursing license in the third state before I’d worked one year. It’s a good thing we were needed at Laurelbrook because by now neither of us were good placement material!
We set up housekeeping in a small trailer on the back property at Laurelbrook. Water and sewer was sporadic and we were fairly isolated back in the wooded area, but I deeply appreciated the solitude and finally knowing that we would have the stability of our own home and work for both of us. We wouldn’t have any money because Laurelbrook paid “in kind” and we were obliged to follow the strict regulations of the Seventh-day Adventist community, but medical expenses would be covered and food was always available.
We were both returning to familiar people and friends. Bill quickly became entrenched with teaching and the responsibilities of being a staff member. I was allowed to work short hours at the nursing home in the afternoons when the nausea was slightly less intense by my eighth month of pregnancy. I trusted my doctor down in Dayton who said the baby was doing well. I felt well enough to play my flute with the student choir for the Christmas programs! And, it looked like Bill might not be drafted after all!
Before cell phones. Before answering machines and long before cars had GPS systems to show one driving directions, I would spend hours driving home from work having taken the wrong turn from my nursing job in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia to our small newlywed apartment in Collegedale, Tennessee.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to follow directions or learn my way to and from work, but my mind was blurry after 2 months of severe, constant nausea and vomiting of pregnancy!
Often I had to pull over to the side of the road with intense waves of dizzying nausea and powerful racking episodes of retching. I usually had to wave away several Good Samaritans who would stop to see if I needed help.
Hardly so. I just needed to kneel down in the grass to be sick or sit by the side of the road with my head between my legs to keep from fainting.
During the day at work while making round with the doctors on the medical floor and stopping at every other bathroom to gag and be sick, the concerned doctors would ask a few questions and confidently write out a prescription for yet another antiemetic drug that they assured me would get rid of the perpetual, awful nausea. I accepted shots that knocked me out for hours, pills that didn’t stay down and suppositories that made me sleepy for days!
In desperation, we bought most every natural products suggested by well meaning friends and relatives. Every time someone else mentioned, “Morning sickness. Eat some crackers,” I was tempted to scream at them – but I didn’t have the energy! This was nothing compared to ‘morning sickness’. The thought of a cracker: The odor of any food at all: Fragrance of any type: Lights, noise or motions – all tied my stomach in knots and started the uncontrollable retching again.
It continued unabated day and night. I felt miserable, repulsive and vile. I looked ghastly and felt exhausted and depressed.
Everyone, including the doctors, said it would stop after a few weeks, but this did not show signs of slowing down!
Bill was confused and frustrated. He had heard this might be physiological and this assumption prevailed since no one had found any cause of cure for what we discovered had a name! Hyperemesis gravidarum. Excessive nausea and vomiting of pregnancy that could last the entire nine months!
Today there is much more information about this recognized disorder of pregnancy. It affects over 60,000 pregnant women each year making them unable to care for themselves or family for months at a time. It prevents adequate intake of food and fluids and can last the entire pregnancy as mine did. It causes prolonged fatigue, dehydration and metabolic imbalances. It can cause severe depression, and relationships can be badly strained. Thousands of women (25 percent) choose abortion out of desperation to relieve the misery and stress they face.
There’s a foundation called HER Foundation that is devoted exclusively to understanding Hyperemesis and it offers a network of support for all aspects of this often-misunderstood problem of pregnancy.
Now I understand that mothers with HG are unable to tolerate blinking or bright lights, the sight, thought or smell of food and even noise or movement.
Those who care for mothers-to-be with HG should understand that she will need to mourn the loss of a normal pregnancy and missing out on the ‘fun” of being pregnant. She will need help finding the path to healing emotionally. Because doctors are reluctant offer a treatment and the cause is virtually unknown, she may feel guilty and ashamed. Others often blame the mother for this extreme reaction. It is expected that she will have difficulty being assertive or thinking clearly due to metabolic imbalances. She may risk starvation, dehydration and need IV’s for hydration or even a feeding tube for nutrition.
Mothers with HG often don’t ask for help when they need it. They should be surrounded by loving people who understand them and will be supported in times of depression and with their feelings of helplessness and dependency. There is the longing to eat and drink normally, feeling of isolation and inability to prepare for the arrival of the baby.
Perhaps the most frustrating is other people’s perception that all this is only in her mind! I know all this to be true because I can remember feeling this way so many times and knowing that no one understood what was happening to my body. I did feel responsible, not only for the unplanned pregnancy but I constantly searched my mind for something terrible I had done to cause such catastrophic sickness.
But, this was in the early 70’s and we had even more trouble on the horizon. Bill had just graduated from college but had no job because Uncle Sam was beckoning to the call of war. Now it looked like I couldn’t hold down a job much longer if this excessive sickness didn’t stop. Bill simply didn’t know what to do with me.
Finally, it was decided that we would move in with his parents in Maryland where he could work with his brother roofing houses and I could try to work part time. I would be welcome to stay there until I was on my feet again if he was sent overseas.
The packing and travel made me feel even worse. Movements, riding in a car, flashing lights were all the things I shouldn’t have been exposed to but we didn’t know that and I didn’t have a choice. With no privacy for the constant retching that was aggravated by the movement of the car, I was almost out of my mind by the time we arrived. I was extremely ill.
Bill’s parents quickly helped him find medical care and a reputable doctor. I remember sitting with Bill looking across the doctor’s massive desk feeling like I was an object being spoken about and not addressed as a person. He said the only thing that would stop the nausea was an abortion. Directing his words to Bill, he said he would be willing to terminate the pregnancy if that was what I wanted.
I realized that if I didn’t take a stand for my baby, or if I got so sick that I couldn’t make a decision, that might be the end of my baby. We both wanted our baby more than anything! It might not have been planned, but there was never a question about how delighted we were to know we were going to be parents!
Right then and there I made Bill promise in front of that doctor that no matter how sick I got, or even if I ASKED for an abortion, that he would PROMISE me that it would NOT BE DONE! It was agreed that an abortion would not be a solution and I knew that I wouldn’t take any more medication for the nausea. That was about 3 months into a very long nine months.
The doctor said one good thing in my favor was that each time I was sick, I would have a few minutes of peace before the nausea started again. He urged to me eat as often as I could even if it didn’t stay down very long. I would get some nourishment from the food, he said.
Back then good Seventh-day Adventist did not drink carbonated beverages that had caffeine added, but when a well-meaning friend suggested that Coca-cola might help relieve the nausea, I tried it and found that at least it didn’t burn my throat coming back up like 7-Up did! I was embarrassed to have the family watch me sipping ice cold Coke, but in the end, that was the only fluid that I could tolerate.
So, my first real experience with Bill’s parents was not under the best of circumstances and I don’t think I ever got to put my best foot forward during our marriage. I always felt that I walked a tight rope and my many talents that seemed rather trite by their standards. They were always kind and loving but I often had the feeling that I didn’t quite measure up. Major decisions were made without my input and our personal problems came under parental scrutiny. The first year of our marriage set the stage for the emotional roller coaster that never quite got a chance to slow down.
During that long hot summer of 1971, Bill worked from sunrise to sunset on the hot roofs with his brother, Lerry. They made a good team and both worked hard. Sunburns turned to suntans and the days melted together with no let up in my sickness and no information on what the future held for us.
By summer’s end, I knew we couldn’t continue living with his parents. I didn’t want to be a burden especially if Bill wasn’t gong to be there. One day someone came up with an unusual but excellent idea! Why not go back to Laurelbrook School at Dayton, Tennessee and Bill could teach until he was called up and I could work at the nursing home when I felt better. The calls of inquiry were made and we were accepted!
So off we went again, pulling our little U-Haul trailer behind us and holding the little pink bucket bucket between us! Now I was six months pregnant. We had been married seven months. We had moved twice and I was looking to get my nursing license in the third state before I’d worked one year. It’s a good thing we were needed at Laurelbrook because by now neither of us were good placement material!
We set up housekeeping in a small trailer on the back property at Laurelbrook. Water and sewer was sporadic and we were fairly isolated back in the wooded area, but I deeply appreciated the solitude and finally knowing that we would have the stability of our own home and work for both of us. We wouldn’t have any money because Laurelbrook paid “in kind” and we were obliged to follow the strict regulations of the Seventh-day Adventist community, but medical expenses would be covered and food was always available.
We were both returning to familiar people and friends. Bill quickly became entrenched with teaching and the responsibilities of being a staff member. I was allowed to work short hours at the nursing home in the afternoons when the nausea was slightly less intense by my eighth month of pregnancy. I trusted my doctor down in Dayton who said the baby was doing well. I felt well enough to play my flute with the student choir for the Christmas programs! And, it looked like Bill might not be drafted after all!
August 14, 2005
About the Book, 'Dusty Angels and Old Diaries'.
About the Book
Every man and woman has a story to tell. Most are lucky if they find one person who will listen. Today I share over 40 years of personal diary epics and intimate stories written about my exceptional story including the most heartbreaking times of my life.
Left behind by my parents in New York City when I was three-years old, I became the guardian angel for my baby sister, Sandra. Together we defied unimaginable hardships to survive and become strong, capable women!
As I unlock each diary and weave the picture of my life’s journey, you may find yourself watermarked in the epic pages because, in ‘Dusty Angels and Old Diaries’ we are all headed toward the same exit sign on our sojourn through life.
Have you experienced a difficult childhood, an abusive ‘parent’, the grief of loneliness, a lost love, the challenge of raising kids and other people’s kids, strict ordinances of religion, the death of a marriage, financial hardship, depression, anger and grief? It’s all here and how I survived each one.
The diaries helped prepare me for, “what’s next” and helped me keep my sanity when my world was crumbling. They kept me steadfast on the path to find my mother and to keep my dreams alive!
They listened to my reasons for becoming a nurse, establishing a photography business, winning an elected position and finding the courage to leave it all behind and start over when life changed directions.
This book is for anyone who doesn’t believe this is a perfect world. Not malicious to those who have done me wrong, but staying close to the truth of how other people’s actions affected my life, my book provides wisdom, offers advice and promises hope to anyone who reads it.
Every man and woman has a story to tell. Most are lucky if they find one person who will listen. Today I share over 40 years of personal diary epics and intimate stories written about my exceptional story including the most heartbreaking times of my life.
Left behind by my parents in New York City when I was three-years old, I became the guardian angel for my baby sister, Sandra. Together we defied unimaginable hardships to survive and become strong, capable women!
As I unlock each diary and weave the picture of my life’s journey, you may find yourself watermarked in the epic pages because, in ‘Dusty Angels and Old Diaries’ we are all headed toward the same exit sign on our sojourn through life.
Have you experienced a difficult childhood, an abusive ‘parent’, the grief of loneliness, a lost love, the challenge of raising kids and other people’s kids, strict ordinances of religion, the death of a marriage, financial hardship, depression, anger and grief? It’s all here and how I survived each one.
The diaries helped prepare me for, “what’s next” and helped me keep my sanity when my world was crumbling. They kept me steadfast on the path to find my mother and to keep my dreams alive!
They listened to my reasons for becoming a nurse, establishing a photography business, winning an elected position and finding the courage to leave it all behind and start over when life changed directions.
This book is for anyone who doesn’t believe this is a perfect world. Not malicious to those who have done me wrong, but staying close to the truth of how other people’s actions affected my life, my book provides wisdom, offers advice and promises hope to anyone who reads it.
June 25, 2005
Are you in my book?
Your name is listed here for only one reason. A Google search of that name may direct you to my blog: dustyangels.blogspot.com You may be mentioned in my new book, "Dusty Angels and Old Diaries". Or, you might enjoy browsing the current stories. Your name has been a part of my lifetime experience.
Please click on the work "home" at the end of this for most recent postings.
George Mascunana, Sandy Zike, Tina Scalise, Sue Colby, Marian Mendel, John Mendel, Renee Bond, Teresa Lucas, Philip Cash, Bill Cash, Robert W. Cash, Jessica Cash, Lindsey Cash, Kathryn Elting, Floyd Phillips, Tania Phillips, Richard E. Stowe, Stowe Chiropractic Life Center, Berrien Springs, Oronoko Township, Tom Brundrett, St. Joseph, Michigan, Andrews University, Magic Moments Photography, Linda Cash, Neil Hunt, Johnny Jones, Laurelbrook School, Dena Marlow, Keith Ferguson, Bob Zollinger, Dayton, Dorothyann Phillips, Allison Graham, Robert Newfeld, Richard Bowden, Billy Cash, Anne Rosenbarker, Kathryn Flood, Bob Flood, Grace Jordan, Albert Jordan, Joel King, John Meikle, Jim Kesterke, Bea Herman, Ernie Hildebrand, Jan Chaudoir, David Chaudior, Kathy Pullano, Journal Era, Broken Springs, St. Joseph River, Niles, Columbus, Linda Meikle, Linda Cash, Edna Signaldsen, Thomas Cleveland, "TJ" Cleveland, Allison Cleveland, Allison Granham, Billy Bowden, Richard Bowden, Cyndi Corker, Sandy Zike, Craig Zike, Bobby Neufeld, Alison Neufeld, Cindy Brantley, Dena Marlow, Thomas Sigwaldsen, St. Barnabas Home for Women and Children, Father Gusweller, Harvy Kruse, Jorge Mascunana, Carolyn Mascunana, Robert W. Cash 111, Robert Cash, Oprah Winfrey, President Bush, President John F. Kennedy, Carver Creek, Annapolis Missouri, Graysville SDA church, Southern College, EnglishRose Photography, photosbylinda, angelwings, dusty angels, Eau Claire SDA Church, James Meikle, Jim Meikle, Sheba, Muffy, 4876 Highland Drive, memoir, biography, Dayton, Tennessee, best sellers, amazon.com, new albany, published authors, Dayton School of Practical Nursing, Denise Meikle, John Meikle, Victoria Meikle, Thomas Harrison, Dorothy Phillips, General Conference of SDA, adventistbookcenter.com, reviewandherald.com, ebay books, angelwings attic, ebay memoir, ebay biography, inspirational books, dustyangels, dustyangels.blogspot.com. lindasbookshelf.com, lindasbookshelf, wedding photography, photography with a woman's touch, true stories, self-supporting schools, pictures of angels, poetry, students of laurelbrook, ozark academy, Gentry, Arkansas, linda cash, N8WFR, ham radio N8WRF, ham radio columbus, ham radio operators, ham radio, Roger Lucas, Teresas Country Homes, SDA nurses, Olive Dibble, Shelley King, Philip Cash, St. Joseph, Michigan, Journal Era, The Herald Palladium, The Review and Herald, Sabbath School Lesson, November 27, 1997, Books for Catholics, Books for Seventh-day Adventist, Books for Baptists, rings in wedding ceremony, Laurelbrook staff, Ozark Mountains, Hills of West Virginia, mountian lion, contimplating suicide, need encouragement, death and dying, takenyesterday, New York Twin Towers, alzheimers, stories about alzheimers, dealing with alzheimers, dealing with dementia, books on healing, books about discouragement, marriage and family, angel over the bridge, books about raising children, how to books, how to deal with grief, adoption stories, adoption, adopting grandchildren, forgotten children, Brantley, Brantley family, mascunana family, Mascunana printing company, Mascunana print shop, mascunana children, mascunana in Tampa florida, book about the Mascunana family, Linda Mascunana, Sandra Mascunana, Soledad Mascunana, Jaquian Mascunana, Conchita, Conchita Mascunana, Ybor City Mascunana,
Take Care On the Journey, Linda
Please click on the work "home" at the end of this for most recent postings.
George Mascunana, Sandy Zike, Tina Scalise, Sue Colby, Marian Mendel, John Mendel, Renee Bond, Teresa Lucas, Philip Cash, Bill Cash, Robert W. Cash, Jessica Cash, Lindsey Cash, Kathryn Elting, Floyd Phillips, Tania Phillips, Richard E. Stowe, Stowe Chiropractic Life Center, Berrien Springs, Oronoko Township, Tom Brundrett, St. Joseph, Michigan, Andrews University, Magic Moments Photography, Linda Cash, Neil Hunt, Johnny Jones, Laurelbrook School, Dena Marlow, Keith Ferguson, Bob Zollinger, Dayton, Dorothyann Phillips, Allison Graham, Robert Newfeld, Richard Bowden, Billy Cash, Anne Rosenbarker, Kathryn Flood, Bob Flood, Grace Jordan, Albert Jordan, Joel King, John Meikle, Jim Kesterke, Bea Herman, Ernie Hildebrand, Jan Chaudoir, David Chaudior, Kathy Pullano, Journal Era, Broken Springs, St. Joseph River, Niles, Columbus, Linda Meikle, Linda Cash, Edna Signaldsen, Thomas Cleveland, "TJ" Cleveland, Allison Cleveland, Allison Granham, Billy Bowden, Richard Bowden, Cyndi Corker, Sandy Zike, Craig Zike, Bobby Neufeld, Alison Neufeld, Cindy Brantley, Dena Marlow, Thomas Sigwaldsen, St. Barnabas Home for Women and Children, Father Gusweller, Harvy Kruse, Jorge Mascunana, Carolyn Mascunana, Robert W. Cash 111, Robert Cash, Oprah Winfrey, President Bush, President John F. Kennedy, Carver Creek, Annapolis Missouri, Graysville SDA church, Southern College, EnglishRose Photography, photosbylinda, angelwings, dusty angels, Eau Claire SDA Church, James Meikle, Jim Meikle, Sheba, Muffy, 4876 Highland Drive, memoir, biography, Dayton, Tennessee, best sellers, amazon.com, new albany, published authors, Dayton School of Practical Nursing, Denise Meikle, John Meikle, Victoria Meikle, Thomas Harrison, Dorothy Phillips, General Conference of SDA, adventistbookcenter.com, reviewandherald.com, ebay books, angelwings attic, ebay memoir, ebay biography, inspirational books, dustyangels, dustyangels.blogspot.com. lindasbookshelf.com, lindasbookshelf, wedding photography, photography with a woman's touch, true stories, self-supporting schools, pictures of angels, poetry, students of laurelbrook, ozark academy, Gentry, Arkansas, linda cash, N8WFR, ham radio N8WRF, ham radio columbus, ham radio operators, ham radio, Roger Lucas, Teresas Country Homes, SDA nurses, Olive Dibble, Shelley King, Philip Cash, St. Joseph, Michigan, Journal Era, The Herald Palladium, The Review and Herald, Sabbath School Lesson, November 27, 1997, Books for Catholics, Books for Seventh-day Adventist, Books for Baptists, rings in wedding ceremony, Laurelbrook staff, Ozark Mountains, Hills of West Virginia, mountian lion, contimplating suicide, need encouragement, death and dying, takenyesterday, New York Twin Towers, alzheimers, stories about alzheimers, dealing with alzheimers, dealing with dementia, books on healing, books about discouragement, marriage and family, angel over the bridge, books about raising children, how to books, how to deal with grief, adoption stories, adoption, adopting grandchildren, forgotten children, Brantley, Brantley family, mascunana family, Mascunana printing company, Mascunana print shop, mascunana children, mascunana in Tampa florida, book about the Mascunana family, Linda Mascunana, Sandra Mascunana, Soledad Mascunana, Jaquian Mascunana, Conchita, Conchita Mascunana, Ybor City Mascunana,
Take Care On the Journey, Linda
May 21, 2005
Amber Alert - For Our Mom!
Many people have asked me if I have a twin because I look like someone they know. Until a few years ago I answered that I had a mother and a brother and sister that disappeared in childhood so if they knew of anyone named Dorothyann (my mother), Allison or Thomas (my siblings) to please tell me about them.
I was 3 years old when my mother disappeared in New York City leaving her four little children all alone, bewildered and very sad. When she did not return, the state of New York placed me and my sister Sandra in the St. Barnabas Home for Children in New York City. Later we were put up for adoption. We lost track of Allison and Thomas.
Nearly 40 years later, after a lifetime of searching, I located our long-lost siblings, Thomas and Allison! They still lived in the NYC area. She was working as a Registered Nurse on Staten Island and Thomas was already a retired NYC Policeman! What a reunion we had! Newspapers covered the story and we celebrated for several days together. Sadly, we have not been able to recreate that experience.
But, a few months after that reunion in NYC, we combined notes, and with some new information from this family, we unexpectedly located our mother (now a graying grandmother) in Waterbury, CT. We had a grand but bittersweet reunion with the mother whose face we couldn't remember and five siblings we had never seen.
This is the story of a desperate search by a little brown-eyed girl named Linda Jean who would never stop looking for her mother.
My screaming rage at the orphanage kept them from separating me from my baby sister. Our love for each other helped us survive being raised by an angry, cruel grandmother who frequently beat and tortured us. I never stopped trying to protect my sister from harm and I never stopped believing that our mother would want to be found and reunited with her children.
Most of our teenage years were spent deep in the heart of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri in a house without electricity or water. We had no formal schooling.
I was eventually invited to live with a family in Ohio to pursue the Licensed Practical Nursing Course. Working nights at Kettering Hospital in Dayton, Ohio, I attended LPN school during the day. Soon thereafter, I married and had two beautiful loving sons, Billy and Philip. I also became a professional photographer and an elected official in my town.
The excitment of finding my mother after persevering for almost a lifetime is another chapter you will not want to miss, and finally bringing the family together again. We talk about almost 40 years of mystery and frustration.
My sons were able to rejoice with me the day I first talked to my mother on the phone. Sandra was thrilled to have not only found our mother, but to discover she had some brothers! She had always wanted a brother! We were in for happy surprises and some sad disappointments.
There is another side to this story, and that is my sister's view of what happened. Sandra's words to describe our mother's abandonment and grandma's cruelty are not words that would be acceptable on this page. Sandra didn't get an opportunity for advanced education like I did and life continued to be very difficult for her many years after I was married. But, she too is a survivor and has been a success at life. In many ways, she is stronger than I am. But she will always be my baby sister!
You may write to me (Linda) at lindasbook@usa.com
I was 3 years old when my mother disappeared in New York City leaving her four little children all alone, bewildered and very sad. When she did not return, the state of New York placed me and my sister Sandra in the St. Barnabas Home for Children in New York City. Later we were put up for adoption. We lost track of Allison and Thomas.
Nearly 40 years later, after a lifetime of searching, I located our long-lost siblings, Thomas and Allison! They still lived in the NYC area. She was working as a Registered Nurse on Staten Island and Thomas was already a retired NYC Policeman! What a reunion we had! Newspapers covered the story and we celebrated for several days together. Sadly, we have not been able to recreate that experience.
But, a few months after that reunion in NYC, we combined notes, and with some new information from this family, we unexpectedly located our mother (now a graying grandmother) in Waterbury, CT. We had a grand but bittersweet reunion with the mother whose face we couldn't remember and five siblings we had never seen.
This is the story of a desperate search by a little brown-eyed girl named Linda Jean who would never stop looking for her mother.
My screaming rage at the orphanage kept them from separating me from my baby sister. Our love for each other helped us survive being raised by an angry, cruel grandmother who frequently beat and tortured us. I never stopped trying to protect my sister from harm and I never stopped believing that our mother would want to be found and reunited with her children.
Most of our teenage years were spent deep in the heart of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri in a house without electricity or water. We had no formal schooling.
I was eventually invited to live with a family in Ohio to pursue the Licensed Practical Nursing Course. Working nights at Kettering Hospital in Dayton, Ohio, I attended LPN school during the day. Soon thereafter, I married and had two beautiful loving sons, Billy and Philip. I also became a professional photographer and an elected official in my town.
The excitment of finding my mother after persevering for almost a lifetime is another chapter you will not want to miss, and finally bringing the family together again. We talk about almost 40 years of mystery and frustration.
My sons were able to rejoice with me the day I first talked to my mother on the phone. Sandra was thrilled to have not only found our mother, but to discover she had some brothers! She had always wanted a brother! We were in for happy surprises and some sad disappointments.
There is another side to this story, and that is my sister's view of what happened. Sandra's words to describe our mother's abandonment and grandma's cruelty are not words that would be acceptable on this page. Sandra didn't get an opportunity for advanced education like I did and life continued to be very difficult for her many years after I was married. But, she too is a survivor and has been a success at life. In many ways, she is stronger than I am. But she will always be my baby sister!
You may write to me (Linda) at lindasbook@usa.com
May 16, 2005
Our Mother's Grief
She hurried along in the gathering darkness. Fear clutched at her heart. Her shoulders bent with the weight of her sadness. All the tears in the world would never erase the pain of leaving her four small children alone in the city that never sleeps.
Would she ever hold baby Sandra in her arms and sing soft lullabies? Or, wave 8-year-old Tommy off to school? Would 6-year old Allison come skipping into the kitchen for a cool glass of milk? Would 3-year-old Linda with her dark brown eyes and ringlets of hair remember a Mother's touch at end of day?
It was the winter of 1953 in New York City, and only a few days had passed since she had walked away from the seemingly insurmountable difficulties of trying to support her children and care for her sick mother. The death of her mother and news that her Navy husband was returning to America with a new girlfriend was simply more than Dorothyann could handle.
Slipping open the latch of the small rented room, she felt the icicles of loneliness reach from the shadows and tighten around her. She unconsciously brushed the soft brown curls from her face wet with tears as she sat at the table and began to write.
My Dearest Daughters,
I guess you think your mother has forgotten you. I have not. Mother had to go away for awhile and did not know she would be gone so long. I hope that you are being my good (girls) and that your daddy will write to you too.
Linda are you taking good care of Sandra for me? I hope that by next week I will have a permanent address and will get in touch with Miss Hall as to where I can be reached.
Please tell Miss Hall that I have not forgotten my children and will explain when I get in touch with her sometime next week.
I also hope that I can see you soon. Be my good girls and love your sister and please do not forget your mother or daddy.
I promise that you will be with daddy or me soon. Be good my dears. Kiss Sissy for me and I will write you real soon again.
Thank-you. Mrs. D. Brantley
All my love to my daughters,
Mother
There could be no turning back now. She had to say good-by not knowing what the future held for her and the small children who meant the world to her. She paused as the sounds from a radio drifted through the thin walls. Perry Como's words kept repeating.
"And yes, I know how lonely life can be. The shadows follow me, and the night won't set me free".
Dorothyann loved to sing. Already her clear soprano voice, sparkling eyes and mystic smile had charmed audiences in churches and theaters in New York City. She grew up singing as she walked to school or work. She lulled colicky babies to sleep and sent many soldiers off to war with the memory of her sweet songs.
But then the morning sickness started and she felt the life of a child whose father she would never name. Her nights were filled with helplessness and the days were a blur of nausea, stomach pain from the tight girdles and a brave front as she didn't tell anyone about the pregnancy. The truth was sudden and shocking as she went into labor on the way to church with her family.
Her mother and stepfather adopted the sickly baby they named Thomas John. Dorothyann felt more and more like a stranger in her own home as her baby boy was assumed by others to be her little brother. She felt her mother's scorn and her older sister's rage! She couldn't escape her stepfather's converted glances.
As Dorothyann sealed the farewell letter to her children, she tried to shake off painful memories of her youth. The son she could not call her own. The abuse of her stepfather. The pain of hiding yet another pregnancy from her mother and sister. She swore that her family would not know about this baby until it was born. Somehow she hoped this would make it better.
After almost 9 months of anguish and pain, Dorothyann labored alone for many hours in a strange hospital as the nurses cast knowing glances and told her to shut-up and push harder for the difficult birth. Allison was born on a cold December day in 1947. A few days later Dorothyann thought her heart would break when she had to leave her tiny daughter behind. Her family had refused to acknowledge the birth. She was accused of bringing shame and embarrassment to the family. Her stepfather seemed immune to her feelings.
But, Dorothyann refused to abandon her baby. Most every afternoon for three months, the nurses would warm the formula and hand the bottle to Dorothyann as she slipped in to the nursery to hold and feed baby Allison. Responding to her mother's lullabies and soothing voice, Allison would quickly fall asleep as Dorothyann rocked and whispered sweet promises to the child she had to hide from the world.
After three months, Dorothyann's parents brought the baby home, but once again, Dorothyann was not allowed to love it as her own. In fact, Allison's older sister claimed ownership and Allison would grow up wondering who her mother was and why she didn't want her. She would learn the strange details of her birth mother many years later when the family was finally reunited in a miraculous sort of way.
As the letter dropped with a soft thud into the mailbox, Dorothyann wanted to rush back and retrieve the sad message! Surely there was another way. Maybe Robert would come back to her. Maybe they could patch up their marriage. She kicked a small stone on the path and remembered the moment Robert had walked into her life.
Tall, slender and handsome, Robert looked splendid in his Navy Sailor dress blues. He had swept her off her feet from the first time they met.
New York City had never seemed so bright! She sang to him and her audiences with a fervor she had never known! At last there was someone who would cherish her and her two babies! She could be a loving wife and mother forever. The Korean War was almost over in America and her heart was free to love and be loved!
They married at St. Michael's Church in New York City on December 11, 1949. Linda Jean was born in 1950 and Sandra Lee joined the family in 1952. Dorothyann still enjoyed singing. Sometimes she held little Linda in her arms as she sang, "Sweetest Little Angel". But by this time, dark clouds were looming on the horizon once again and Dorothyann's life would soon be plunged into the darkest ebb she had ever known.
By late 1953, Robert had gone off to war and her mother passed away. Robert said he wasn't coming back to her and she was alone with four little children. Dorothyann didn't know how in the world she would survive. Helplessness overcame her, and in the bitter blackness of night in her soul, she fled and left them all behind.
It would be another 35 years before Linda would return searching for clues of her mother's disappearance. The sad goodbye letter would be recovered, lost in the dusty files of an old orphanage. Finally, a grand reunion would take place and siblings would celebrate a family reunited.
unavoidably, there would be some bitterness, a sad death, a few regrets and unavoidable rejection. Where there had been four siblings, there would eventually be nine! Another child would surprise the entire clan! Thomas John would slip away. Others would drift apart. The story is not entirely complete, but Linda is at peace knowing that her lifelong mission to find her mother is done.
April 29, 2005
Who Will Hold Your Hand When You Die?
I cringe when people say I'm too nice. I'm confused when friends tell me I should be angry at those who have deliberately done me wrong in my lifetime. I am saddened when I see my co-workers being rude and spiteful and seeking revenge. I wish we could all hold hands at the end of each day and say, "Let's all just be nice". We all agree that life is short, but few of us really live like we believe that.
I've held the hand of many patients as they take their last breath and I've heard the last heartbeat with my stethoscope. I can't count the number of times I've sat alone with a dying person and just held their hand. The relatives and friends are long parted or haven't made it to the bedside in time. I've had a near death experience myself so I can confidently report that there are no emotions when you die; just the peacefulness of death's passage. Nothing of the past changes the dying.
Not too long ago - or maybe it was a long time ago - my patient who had a terminal illness but wasn't gravely ill suddenly died. I called the daughter and told her to come right away but didn't tell her that her mother had died. The daughter was terribly distraught at the sight of her mother and begged me to tell her that her mother wasn't dead..
"I could never live with myself if I didn't make it in time. I promised mom I'd be there. Please tell me she's still alive" (The patient looked very deceased to me!) But, as the daughter hugged her mother to her heart I got out my stethocospe and said, "Shhhhh. Let me listen." Then I said, "I think I heard a faint heartbeat. Tell your mother goodbye now." She cried and said all the things she should have said to her mother over the years then she turned to me and said, "thank-you" and left the room.
My guardian angel often uses the radio to give me answers to my inquiring questions about discouragement and frustrations of daily life. You may chuckle if you don't believe in angels or have the guidance of a higher power. Believe me, I don't listen to the radio much because after the first song, I'm usually bored. But many times when a problem has been heavy on my mind while I'm driving, I turn on the radio and have an answer within a few minutes.
Just a few days ago I was questioning my faith and belief in something. Finances uncertain, my jobs troubling and friends seemed few and far between. I was driving to my second job (no days off in months!) and as I stopped at a long redlight, I ordered my angel to "give me an answer". I said, "If there are really angels looking after me, I want to hear the announcer say that in the last hour they played a song with the word 'angel' in it." Well, he listed all the songs they just played and there was nothing about angels.
I drove on a bit disappointed but not sure how discouraged I was. I pushed the button searching for something to keep my interest. Suddenly a song was starting that I knew. It was, of course, about an angel sent to watch over me! I remembered the song and sang along with it! I hugged myself with delight and still smile when I remember the incident.
Once when I got to work, the two 7-3 nurses were at odds with each other. As one nurse was walking down the hall she turned and yelled at the other nurse, "Mind your own business". The second nurse hollered back, "You need to get over your mad cow disease!"
This exchange as each nurse is another moment closer to death!
My husband is taking his Master's Degree online and sometimes there is miscommunication in the confines of cyberspace education. If not checked, words become capital letters and angry jabs are thrown back and forth until some calm mediator comes in and redirects everyone back to the task at hand. It is amazing to see how nice professional cyperpeople can become controlling monsters in space! Do they realize they are in the process of dying as they slam angry words back and forth?
One of my new nursing jobs included going back to a facility where I had previously been the supervisor. I returned as a regular staff nurse, but was met with some animosity and distrust because I had been the "boss" a couple years earlier. I understood the wariness but didn't expect the same staff I had worked so well with before to be insulting and rude now. I finally left that job because I realized that courtesy and respect had been replaced by greed and selfishness.
I really needed the money that job provided and at first I trusted that the staff meant me no harm, but soon things were said and done that could affect my nursing license. Maybe I should have been bold and rude and stood my ground, but I believe in living each day as if I might die tonight. I think those nurses have forgotten they are dying too.
Something much better is waiting for me around the corner, my angel assures me.
At another job, I really liked the afternoon staff. I had applied for the position because of a sign-on bonus and was willing to put up with any of the nasty conditions that nursing homes are known for. Most nurses don't like working in nursing homes but this one was clean and had high standards. I was pleasantly surprised at how nice the job was.
Then, I noticed bad vibes between two administrators. Every day I would see one more episode in the saga of power and management. These were two professionals who expected harmony and trust from the employees but couldn't give it to each other. They worked in a facility where people are in the last years of life and where death comes softly all the time. This man and woman had forgotten they are on the same short path of life and death and soon none of this will matter.
Every day or so there's a note at the nurses station regarding a family member who isn't allowed to visit anymore. The family member who gets POA decides who can visit and who can't. I once took care of a man in his 50's who had a stroke and was in a vegetative state with a feeding tube. This man's wife dictated that his own mother could only visit three times a week for one hour at a time.
The wife was hardly ever there, but the crippled mother hobbled in every other day and someone waited outside in a car while she spent a few moments with her son. She read the paper to him or fussed with his hair. Sometimes she forgot her hour was up and the driver would come in and yell at her because he had to wait a few minutes extra.
In another situation, we got a note that a daughter could not visit her mother and we were to stop her if she came into the building. The daughter had gotten into an argument with her brother who was Power Of Attorney. Our patient was somewhat confused and keept asking us to call her daughter and see why she hadn't been in to bring her favorite foods and clean clothes. I told her the phone was broken.
It doesn't matter if you have been the president of the company, a great leader in our country or just worked hard all your life to support your family. What means the most is if you know you have done your best and are ready for that moment in time. All that is left are the memories that people have of you. Those who hold your hand will and remember your touch and the good you did for others.
Take Care On the (Short) Journey of Life,
Love, Linda
April 22, 2005
Contact Information
My email for this blog is lindasbook@usa.com
To read another chapter, just click the title on the left side of this page and it will bring up that chapter.
You can click lindasbook@usa.com to send me an email, or at the end of each chapter there's a small comment area. Click the envelope and follow directions to send me an email. I check for email most every day.
Take Care on Your Journey!
~Linda
April 18, 2005
Linda Cash - for 23 years!
My boys must be thinking, “What’s mom going to write about dad?”
After all, Bill Cash and I were married for over 23 years. We married when I was 20 years old and a few days past graduating from school as a Licensed Practical Nurse. When we divorced he had his PhD and I was still a hard working LPN.
Bill was a senior at Southern College, Collegedale, TN back in 1970. We met at my first alumni homecoming at Laurelbrook School where I graduated from high school. After a long alumni-hosted afternoon walk, he asked me to be his steady girl and we said an emotional good-by at the airport as I left to return to LPN school in Dayton, Ohio.
We planned the wedding while I was away at school. We got married upon my return during his Spring Break on March 7, 1971.
I remember one thought that I had on my wedding day. “I don’t care if I am this happy for only one day, it will be worth it!”
In the end, Bill told me I was still the loving sweet person he had married but we had grown apart in too many ways. Whatever we saw in each other on that alumni reunion day wasn’t enough to keep us whole for all those years. The church was the walls that held us together and our two boys were the glue that held us together. Both of us are very proud of Billy and Philip. We do share that in common!
A few days ago I was chatting long distance to an old friend, Neil Hunt. Neil has been a mutual friend since before Billy was born. Neil commented that the hardest part about the divorce was not seeing Bill and I together. It seemed that we had always been together! We had created a family civilization, and I’m sure our family and friends were just as perplexed as to why we split up and how to react as our boys were.
Especially hurt was Philip, and to this day I still feel sorry for the hurt he experienced. But, Philip recently reminded me that both of us (his parents) have changed over the years having learned lessons from the past. My wise son said when a relationship is in trouble, "both feel the hurt of it".
Having said that, and if you’re still reading this, we did have lots of good times and carried on a fairly normal existence as a family. I think what held us together the most was our affiliation with the Seventh-day Adventist church. We were both leaders and contributed in many ways especially to the Eau Claire SDA Church and School in Eau Claire, Michigan.
As the boys got older, I followed them through each little Sabbath School department leading out in the Kindergarten, Junior and other classes. I often played the piano or told stories from the Bible or provided activities. . And, I always enjoyed being with my boys!
I still recall fondly the times Bill and I provided special music at church services with him at the piano and me playing the flute. We played, “The Holy City” to hushed audiences and it still chills me to remember how well we did that together! It is such a majestic song!
But, deep down I didn’t feel comfortable with Bill and perhaps he didn’t with me. We never took the time to really know the true person inside each other and ourselves. My low self-esteem and his ‘know-all’ attitude didn’t help. I felt that it was impossible for me to make him happy no matter how hard I tried to please him.
My cooking wasn’t good enough. I didn’t control spending the way I should. I didn’t keep up with him socially and I couldn’t say no when others asked for my help.
Eventually Grandma Mascunana needed care and I was the only family member who couldn’t say no to her. She moved to a nearby retirement home and demanded constant medical care and a lot of the very limited time that I had with my family. I was working 16-18 hours a day as a nurse and even then we couldn’t pay all the bills. Grandma also continued to be ungrateful and inconsiderate of my feelings.
I was feeling the frustration that had surfaced so many times with grandma, only now I could see a way out and was finally able to walk away. He wasn’t a bad man, just someone I couldn’t live with and continue breathing!
The final good-by was swift and complete. It was decided right after I won the election for township clerk. I think he was shocked that I had won! His comment was that having won the election, I would be able to take care of myself and perhaps wouldn’t feel abandoned if we divorced. He knew my biggest fear in life was that I’d be left all alone again.
I was afraid we would get divorced but he would still continue to control me, so I wanted a clean break. I was also concerned that he would consider me “clingy” if we continued to keep in touch on a regular basis. Obiviously, I wanted to live my life “my way”.
Bill didn’t want me to have any communication with his mother who always said I was like a daughter she never had. His mother and I respected Bill’s wishes for several years, but we still send birthday and Christmas cards. I was careful to disassociate myself from his dad who was always very kind to me because Bill was often jealous of that relationship even when we were married. Billy was away at college and Philip was almost ready for college. So in the end, I did have an empty nest but I discovered that I was stronger than I thought!
I have many stories already written during the times the boys were growing up and will add this to this book soon now that I've cleared the way by explaining about me and Bill Cash. There will be a better understanding of the way we lived when I was 20-40 years old.
After all, Bill Cash and I were married for over 23 years. We married when I was 20 years old and a few days past graduating from school as a Licensed Practical Nurse. When we divorced he had his PhD and I was still a hard working LPN.
Bill was a senior at Southern College, Collegedale, TN back in 1970. We met at my first alumni homecoming at Laurelbrook School where I graduated from high school. After a long alumni-hosted afternoon walk, he asked me to be his steady girl and we said an emotional good-by at the airport as I left to return to LPN school in Dayton, Ohio.
We planned the wedding while I was away at school. We got married upon my return during his Spring Break on March 7, 1971.
I remember one thought that I had on my wedding day. “I don’t care if I am this happy for only one day, it will be worth it!”
In the end, Bill told me I was still the loving sweet person he had married but we had grown apart in too many ways. Whatever we saw in each other on that alumni reunion day wasn’t enough to keep us whole for all those years. The church was the walls that held us together and our two boys were the glue that held us together. Both of us are very proud of Billy and Philip. We do share that in common!
A few days ago I was chatting long distance to an old friend, Neil Hunt. Neil has been a mutual friend since before Billy was born. Neil commented that the hardest part about the divorce was not seeing Bill and I together. It seemed that we had always been together! We had created a family civilization, and I’m sure our family and friends were just as perplexed as to why we split up and how to react as our boys were.
Especially hurt was Philip, and to this day I still feel sorry for the hurt he experienced. But, Philip recently reminded me that both of us (his parents) have changed over the years having learned lessons from the past. My wise son said when a relationship is in trouble, "both feel the hurt of it".
Having said that, and if you’re still reading this, we did have lots of good times and carried on a fairly normal existence as a family. I think what held us together the most was our affiliation with the Seventh-day Adventist church. We were both leaders and contributed in many ways especially to the Eau Claire SDA Church and School in Eau Claire, Michigan.
As the boys got older, I followed them through each little Sabbath School department leading out in the Kindergarten, Junior and other classes. I often played the piano or told stories from the Bible or provided activities. . And, I always enjoyed being with my boys!
I still recall fondly the times Bill and I provided special music at church services with him at the piano and me playing the flute. We played, “The Holy City” to hushed audiences and it still chills me to remember how well we did that together! It is such a majestic song!
But, deep down I didn’t feel comfortable with Bill and perhaps he didn’t with me. We never took the time to really know the true person inside each other and ourselves. My low self-esteem and his ‘know-all’ attitude didn’t help. I felt that it was impossible for me to make him happy no matter how hard I tried to please him.
My cooking wasn’t good enough. I didn’t control spending the way I should. I didn’t keep up with him socially and I couldn’t say no when others asked for my help.
Eventually Grandma Mascunana needed care and I was the only family member who couldn’t say no to her. She moved to a nearby retirement home and demanded constant medical care and a lot of the very limited time that I had with my family. I was working 16-18 hours a day as a nurse and even then we couldn’t pay all the bills. Grandma also continued to be ungrateful and inconsiderate of my feelings.
I was feeling the frustration that had surfaced so many times with grandma, only now I could see a way out and was finally able to walk away. He wasn’t a bad man, just someone I couldn’t live with and continue breathing!
The final good-by was swift and complete. It was decided right after I won the election for township clerk. I think he was shocked that I had won! His comment was that having won the election, I would be able to take care of myself and perhaps wouldn’t feel abandoned if we divorced. He knew my biggest fear in life was that I’d be left all alone again.
I was afraid we would get divorced but he would still continue to control me, so I wanted a clean break. I was also concerned that he would consider me “clingy” if we continued to keep in touch on a regular basis. Obiviously, I wanted to live my life “my way”.
Bill didn’t want me to have any communication with his mother who always said I was like a daughter she never had. His mother and I respected Bill’s wishes for several years, but we still send birthday and Christmas cards. I was careful to disassociate myself from his dad who was always very kind to me because Bill was often jealous of that relationship even when we were married. Billy was away at college and Philip was almost ready for college. So in the end, I did have an empty nest but I discovered that I was stronger than I thought!
I have many stories already written during the times the boys were growing up and will add this to this book soon now that I've cleared the way by explaining about me and Bill Cash. There will be a better understanding of the way we lived when I was 20-40 years old.
March 24, 2005
A Poem, "One Small Note"
While searching for my mother, I found the contents of my 30-year old orphanage file in New York City.
A Father James Gusweller who was associated with St. Barnabas Orphange when Sandra and I were there in 1954 located our old files in a basement.
The contents included a letter from our mother that she had written to us almost 30 years earlier!
No one remembered about the letter! In it, she said she had to go away for awhile but she or our father would come back for us!
She wrote, "Whoever is reading this to my babies, give them a kiss and tell them that mother has not forgotten them."
This was the first inkling we had that our mother might still be alive. I wrote this poem after receiving her letter.
One Small Note
Where is my mother in this world?
She left so long ago,
And all I have is one small note
That's treasured more than gold.
"I've had to go away awhile.
I hope my days I'm gone are few.
Kiss Sissy and take good care of her.
I will not forget about you!"
"Who ever reads this note to my babies dear,
Please kiss them both and tell them not to fear."
Where is my mother in this world?
I've wondered since a child.
Did she go away expecting to return?
Or did she go away not knowing where to turn?
Has she thought of me and sister Sandra too?
Has she looked in vain and found the options few?
I love you, mom, though I'm a mother and a wife.
I took good care of Sissy.
But we've missed you all our life.
Where is our mother in this world?
She left so long ago.
And all we have is one small note
That's treasured more than gold.
~Linda Cash (1986)
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