I have found nursing patients with cancer to be a challenging and rewarding occupation. It has certainly been a good distraction from my own familiar challenge of parenting two teens. Whenever I start thinking that dealing with drivers licenses, curfews, grades and peer pressure are overwhelming, I remember what Rebekah faced, the courage she showed, and suddenly my problems don't seem so difficult after all.

I remember the day she was admitted to the ward. As I reviewed her admission papers, I was surprised to see that she was 32 and being admitted for chemotherapy to treat breast cancer that had been diagnosed two weeks earlier. I entered the room and introduced myself. Rebekah, her eyes sparkling with love and her ponytail bouncing, introduced me to her husband, Warren, and her daughters, Ruthie, age six, and Hannah, age four. Cradled in her crossed legs wiggled her third daughter, Molly, age two.

While I filled out forms, Rebekah directed the unpacking of her suitcase...a comforter made by her grandmother, a poster of cheer from her church circle and a family portrait for her bedside table, along with her worn Bible. Warren gathered the girls to go to the airport to pick Grandmother.

"I need to place a needle in your arm to give you the chemotherapy", I explained.

"I'll do anything to get well for my husband and girls. I can handle throwing up, losing my hair and being tired, but I'm absolutely terrified of needles".

Rebekah's voice shook and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You can cry, but please don't move. On the count of three..."

"The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want", Rebekah said loudly as the needle slid smoothly into the vein. With the successful completion of the intravenous, Rebekah asked, "What is your favorite Bible verse?"

"John 11:35", I answered. "Jesus wept".

"Oh! That's a sad verse", she replied, a bit somberly.

"It brings me comfort, knowing that Jesus is sad when bad things happen to His people. It demonstrates to me a human side of Him that I need to know when I care for sick people. I know He can and will heal the sick, but returning to health can entail sad times, so I know He is there to support me in the sad times so that I can support patients".

"I'll have to give that some thought", replied Rebekah.

For the next 18 months, I saw Rebekah on a regular basis to receive chemotherapy and radiation. A chest X ray showed the cancer had spread and there were no further medical weapons to use against the cancer.

How could I support her in this new challenge?

I entered Rebekah's room and found it cluttered with paper, tapes, and a tape recorder.

"Nan, I'm making tapes for my daughters, to know what I feel, think and advise on important occasions. I don't want them to forget me. Do you have any suggestions?"

I looked over her list...first day of school, becoming sweet 16, first date, first kiss, confirmation, etc. She let me listen to the tapes, which were moving and filled with motherly advice, encouragement and love. Rebekah taped each day from her notes as she grew weaker and weaker.

Rebekah explained to her young daughters that she was making special tapes that their dad would keep for them to listen to later. She explained that she was going to live with God and help Him get a home ready for them when they were very old.

We all knew the end was approaching. I was surprised when I got a frantic phone call at home from a nurse who said that Rebekah was pleading...begging that I come with a blank tape. Making a mental checklist of all the tapes she had made, I could not imagine what topic could have possibly been forgotten.

Entering Rebekah's room, I noticed she was having severe shortness of breath and was very anxious, gasping, "Nan, do you have the tape?"

"Take a deep breath. Of course I have the tape", I replied.

As I set up the tape recorder, she explained, "This is my most important tape".

I held the microphone close to her mouth and she began..."Ruthie, Hannah and Molly, some day your daddy will bring a new mommy home. I want you to make her feel very special, and how proud you will make me feel if you are kind, patient and encouraging to her as she learns to take care of each of you. Help her set the table. Please bring her dandelions to put in the special vase. Most important, hug her often. Please do not be sad for long. Jesus cried. He knows how sad you are and He knows you will be happy again. I love you so much, Hannah, Ruthie and Molly. Big hugs, your first mommy".

I turned off the tape player.

"Thank you. I can sleep now".

I adjusted the pillow under her head and rolled a pillow to her back and exited quietly.

Rebekah died two days later.

I mailed the tape to their dad four years later when Warren and the girls prepared to welcome their new wife and mommy.


Nan Pinkston

(c) Fr. Pius Sammut, OCD. Permission is hereby granted for any non-commercial use, provided that the content is unaltered from its original state, if this copyright notice is included.