We Remember

Two years ago today I got a 6 am phone call. My heart broke before I answered it; I knew exactly who it was and what she was about to say. It was Margaret Anne calling to tell me her daughter, Victoria, who I adored, had been given a heavenly cure for her cancer - not the earthly one we were hoping for. She was 8.

Victoria's prognosis was poor from the start. Her cancer had already spread from her brain to her spine, and it was one of the more aggressive types. She went through countless complications and emergencies during the two years I watched her fight it. And yet she never looked sick. She looked bald and gained weight for a while from taking steroids. But I can't remember a time that I saw her where she wasn't smiling and playing like a normal 6 year old, then 7, then 8 year old. It's been 2 years since I saw her, and I remember her like it was yesterday that I hugged her goodbye. So today, I want to share some of my favorite memories of her:

- fetching midnight snacks of broccoli and cheese and spaghetti noodles
- being "shhhhhhed" by Victoria while her mom and I attempted to visit during her 100th viewing of Finding Nemo
- walking out of the hospital after a night shift, and passing Victoria and her mom on their way in. Victoria gave me the biggest smile, and said "Hey Jessica" from her wheelchair.
- walking into my ICU shifts to find nice surprises in my mailbox - some form of Hershey's chocolate, a note, and a picture colored by Victoria
- watching Victoria laugh for absolutely no reason, and then joining her
- standing at the end of the hall on 3 East with my arms outstretched as I watched her walk to me for the first time after she learned again
- giving her a hug at Chick-Fil-A where we had lunch the day she and her mom delivered the birdseed bags they'd made for my wedding
-having a panic attack the day I introduced Victoria and her mom to Cline at the hospital - I'd pretty much overstepped every other professional boundary with this family, and they wanted to meet my boyfriend since we talked about him a good bit. I don't know if it was "against the rules" per-say, but I'm pretty sure it was frowned upon. The day Cline came up to meet them, the medical director happened to be sitting at the nurses station! Cline struck up a conversation with her, and she loved him. Go figure.
- Victoria relapsed shortly after Cline and I were married and living in Augusta. She had to go to Egleston on a day we happened to be in Atlanta to get a spinal tap. She was really groggy from the anesthesia as we went into the room, so we visited with Margaret Anne while she slept. Aunt Martiele came in, saw me, and yelled "hey Jessica" with a big hug and smile, sort of ignoring Cline. When we had to leave, Margaret Anne gently shook Victoria and said, "Jessica's got to leave now." Victoria grumpily yelled, "NOOOOOOOO" and went back to sleep. Cline raised his hand and said softly, "um... excuse me, but I'm actually leaving too." We all cracked up laughing.
- sitting cramped in half a car seat while Victoria stretched out as we drove through the night to St. Jude after her relapse. I said, "Victoria, you're hogging the seat." She replied, "it's OK." She was right - it was OK.
- talking to Margaret Anne all night as I gripped the steering wheel when it was my turn to drive. Margaret Anne had a huge SUV, and I was used to driving a little sedan. It was late, dark, and the roads were curvy and narrow. I just knew I was going to wreck and cause Victoria not to get her treatment, and I was terrified. But Margaret Anne and I "enjoyed" our chatting as much as we were able to, and I was honored to be driving a sleeping Victoria to what we'd hoped would be life-saving treatment.
- meeting new colleagues at the hospital who, upon hearing my name, replied, "oh, you're Victoria's nurse. She talks about you all the time." I was very proud to be known as "Victoria's nurse."

Today, like her parents, I know that Victoria is fine. I am grateful that she is no longer suffering, no longer having to spend a birthday in a hospital room, and no longer fighting the monster that is childhood cancer. But I think about her often, and wonder what things would be like if she were still here. Would she have come with Margaret Anne to meet Christa the day she was born? What pictures would she color for me? Would she like Hannah Montana? What would we do together when we visit Valdosta?

Margaret Anne, today we remember and miss Victoria with you. While I would change the circumstances if I could, we proudly call you, Lee, and your children a special part of our family. Because of Victoria, I hug Christa just a little tighter and play with her just a little longer. Because of Victoria, Cline orders extra CT scans and MRI's on kids just to be sure he doesn't miss something. I know things haven't really gotten any easier, and so we still pray for all of you. We love you, and we love Victoria.

(The sign to the right says 'We Love you Victoria! "More than words can say".' It was drawn by a 10 year old boy and held up by her therapists on a street corner close to the cemetary the day of her funeral.)