John Wayne and a Dominican nun
I like to think John Wayne removed his big white cowboy hat, tipped it at her, and said in his dreamy voice, “Please to meet you, ma’am!” She would have fluttered her eyelashes at him the way she did each time she kissed the TV screen as he puckered up to kiss the leading lady (Maureen O’Hara) in his movies. Mom, my sisters and I collapsed in giggles. Up in heaven, Duke (John Wayne’s nickname) may have been confused meeting Sister Mike, not knowing the difference between a Dominican nun, and thought she was an angel. She was our angel. Sister Mike’s official name was Sister Michael Mary Dwyer (O’Dwyer in Ireland), OP (Order of Preachers), a Roman Catholic nun, a Sinsinawa Dominican. There was nothing pious or stern and intimidating about her. Sunshine and happiness oozed out of her and not just because I was a kid, adults adored her, too. She lit up a room with her sunny disposition and her kindness and love toward everyone in the room. My mother was about ten years younger than Sister Mike. When my mother was a child, Mom asked Sister Mike what her birthdate was. Sister Mike told Mom that her birthday was December 8 (her birthday was actually December 7) – December 8 in the Catholic Church is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception – and Sister Mike told Mom that she was another Immaculate Conception! See what I mean about the mischief within Sister Mike? I even have a letter Mom wrote to her mother asking if it was true! It wasn’t that either was irreverent – they both truly believed God has a sense of humor. They were two peas in a pod when they were together. Laughter, silliness and plain old fun . . . an amazing thing when you’re a child and your mother and aunt shed their adult ways encouraging my sisters and me to have fun right along with them. The best way to describe how we anticipated Sister Mike’s visits to us is think of the delight of the children in the movie Mary Poppins. Pure magic! Sister Mike brought that magic and love into our lives. Mom and Sister Mike had a crush on John Wayne, the actor and we did, too. Popcorn, staying up past our bedtime and swooning over him when he swept the leading lady into his big handsome arms made our hearts beat faster. We never missed one of his movies. John Way arrived in heaven years after Sister Mike died, but I’m betting she finagled with the good Lord so she could meet him as soon as he passed through those pearly gates. It made Mom mad. She wanted them to meet him together, but Mom wasn’t in heaven yet when John Wayne died. Mom had just picked up her cross battling the same disease that sent her eldest sister, Sister Mike, to heaven at the young age of forty-five years old. This year – 2016 – marks the 50th year since Sister Mike died. Today would have been Sister Mike’s 96th birthday. Her funeral was what I call my first PKD (polycystic kidney disease – a hereditary disease) funeral. I wasn’t born yet when my grandmother died of PKD. We’ve had nine funerals from PKD in our family including Mom’s. My sisters and three of my cousins, (one a Catholic priest) battle the disease now. Sometimes the sorrow is unbearable. One Christmas visit when I was quite young, Sister Mike brought us a Nativity set, made of plastic. Mom was beside herself with joy...
Read MoreThe Word ‘Cadaver’
Yesterday, on ABC’s The Bachelor TV show, an insensitive comment was used about a ‘cadaver’ donor. The word “cadaver” should not have been used. Many donor families – people with a family member who died and donated his or her organs after death – are upset at the use of the word ‘cadaver’. Because each family’s loved one was a person, loved and cherished, and not just a dead body. Many donor families are outraged. My mother received her transplant in 1988 and the word ‘cadaver’ was used. That was the word used by the medical community back then to indicate the organ transplanted was from a deceased person. Later, it was considered insensitive. Mom stopped using the word “cadaver” too, although any donor who has received a transplant never thinks of their donor as a ‘cadaver’ or a dead person. They think of them as their angel. Mom’s donor was the first person she wanted to meet in heaven after she paid her respects to God. Words. Yes, words can hurt. But, let’s not get hung up on words. Why not get hung up on the fact that over 120,000 people are waiting for a life-saving organ transplant? To be an organ donor in the event of sudden or unexpected death is one of the noblest things anyone can do for their fellow man. Become an organ donor! I promise someone will call you an...
Read MoreJune 19, 1966
June 19, 1966 Peering out the Venetian blinds at my aunt’s house, I saw the car pull up to the curb. “She’s here!” I yelled as I ran out the door. My beautiful mother, tall, strong and bronzed by days on the golf course, stepped out of the car into the warm June morning. Jutting her chin out, she pulled her shoulders back, as if to stand at attention. We ran to her, my sisters behind me. “She’s gone,” Mom stated, opening her arms for us to nestle. Despite squeezing her eyes shut, tears trickled out of the corners of Mom’s cornflower blue eyes. Impatiently, she wiped them away and stated, “She’s out of pain. And, what a happy day it must be in heaven when she arrived.” The roses were in bloom. I could smell their heady fragrance. Birds chirped, sunlight dazzled, and the June day burst around us with indescribable joy, despite our broken hearts. Our sobs hiccupped loudly, and Mom’s voice quivered, “Now, now! Come on! She wouldn’t want us moping around. We have to go on and you girls have to make her proud.” Mom hugged us again. Our tears continued to drop while Mom described what was going on in heaven. “She’s having fun up there, meeting God, the saints and the angels, and Mother and Dad. She’s probably making those silly faces of hers. Didn’t she teach us how to make silly faces when we are sad? That’s how we honor her.” My mother set aside her own shattered heart to teach us how to handle grief. Standing on the curb on a side street in the bustling city of Chicago forty-eight years ago, the torch in the battle against PKD was handed to us. We have tried to make her proud. Mom, JoAnn and Janice have knocked it out of the park with the way they have handled PKD. Their fortitude, strength and courage are stellar. None of it could have been done without the faith she taught us. Ironclad faith. Rest in peace, Sister...
Read MoreHappy You Went To Heaven Day, Mom!
by Suzanne Ruff How’s that for putting a spin on what I call this day? For me, it’s: My World Changed Never To Be The Same Day! Mom, you often talked to me, preparing me for your death and about Heaven. That’s one of the good things PKD does – surprising as that sounds! Because of you, I have no ambiguity about life and death. It’s part of what we humans endure whether we have PKD or not! There was no doubt you were going to heaven. No Darwin theories for you! Also, in that silly way of yours, you made sure I knew there was no way you were going to hell. “I’ve been there and I’m not going back,” was your firm statement. Your awe, reverence and respect for God was/is sincere. You served Him well. The essence of what made you who you were bubbled out of you. So I’m betting you made God smile, Mom, when you met Him. I giggled at your list of what you wanted to do in heaven. Did God answer all your questions? You were, of course, very excited to meet God. One of your first questions was to be: “Could I meet my donor? You wanted to buy that wonderful man a beer! Organ donors arrive at their celestial home with a “get into heaven free card!” When I give a speech about you, I explain that another question you wanted to ask God is, “God, why did you make mice?” Mice made you shudder, jump and run like a cartoon character. “Wouldn’t it be funny?” I ask the audience, “ if a mouse is how a cure for PKD is discovered?” Alas! Just like PKD is hereditary, so is that same reaction to mice in your granddaughter and me. Your zany sense of fun brought much laughter when you described greeting all your friends and loved ones in PKD Heaven. They would meet you at the pearly gate and oh how you believed you’d see them again! The things you would tell them regarding PKD and thank them for helping you with your PKD battle. The progress and availability of dialysis, transplantation, nutrition, blood pressure, and the new drugs will excite them. Tell them the first “Friends Chapter of PKD you and Dad helped form in Chicago has exploded to many Chapters. Support, love and new friends united together, supporting and loving each other. You had a few serious questions for the dear Lord (as you often called Him). Sad ones. There were some issues you wanted to discuss by asking, “What were You thinking, Lord?” We talked about how we will not know the answers while we are here on earth. That’s when you told me to let faith kick in. Thank you for this great lesson. And, of course, there was your love of movies. Naturally you believed in Movie Star Heaven. You couldn’t wait to ask, “Could my sister (our beloved Sister Mike) and I meet John Wayne?” You said you were going to be “mad as hell” if Sister Mike had already met him, but then your blue eyes twinkled saying, “Maybe it’s not good to get mad as hell in heaven?” I still wish I had been able to say good-bye to you . . . to say I love you one more time. I’ve matured enough to understand and trust that the dear Lord knew what was best for you when it was your day to meet Him. But, oh how I miss you, Mom! To this day, the doctors in...
Read MoreSo You Think Nuns are Mean?
Breaking the Stigma About Nuns Being No Fun Many of you know about my family’s connection to the Dominican nuns because of our beloved Sister Mike. For those of you who don’t know nuns, or Sisters as they’re also called, the best way to describe them is they are a group of women who take a vow to dedicate their lives to serve God. My grandpa Mike’s sister and daughter were both Dominican nuns, Sister Francis and Sister Mike. Sister Mike was, of course, not a typical nun, as those of you who have read my book learned. She was fun-loving, mischievous, and courageous. She was my fairy godmother disguised as a nun. When she died . . . how many 45-year-olds do you know who would accept death so others could live? But, today, let’s just focus on fun. When I was a little girl about to start 1st grade, I was beside myself with excitement. All I kept saying was that I couldn’t wait to ask my new teacher if she knew Sister Mike. And, yes! My new teacher, Sister Marie Raphael, OP (Order of Preachers) knew and loved her. Not to mention that everyone in the family, except 6-year-old me, played along and enjoy my delight when my teacher said, “Why yes! I know Sister Michael Mary! I didn’t know she had a niece named Suzie!” (Even though she was in on it all along.) Sister Marie Raphael was also my little sister, JoAnn’s, 1st grade teacher, the year I went to 2nd grade. We kept in touch with Sister Marie Raphael through the years. She became far more than a first grade teacher. She continued her education and eventually was chaplain and director of spiritual care at St. Joseph Healthcare system in Albuquerque, NM. How many of you kept in touch with your first grade teacher? “Raph” was a pistol and there is a funny story in my book about the joke she played on my mother. When my book was published, she invited us to speak to all the other nuns at The Mound in Wisconsin. After our presentation and reception, “Raph” invited us to have something “stronger” to drink in her room! She passed away this past July at the age of 85. Somehow I believe there is a party up in heaven going on with Sister Mike and “Raph”. I’m betting the nun who wrote the prayer below back in the 17th Century has the same sense of fun as Sister Mike and Sister Marie Raphael and Sister Francis. Maybe you had a “bad” nun in your past. My mom always used to say, “Don’t let one bad apple spoil the bunch!” I have great respect for the work nuns do to make the world a better place. Amen! Prayer of a 17th Century Nun Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord, that I want a few friends at the end. Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years...
Read MoreA Birthday
Birthdays are gifts! Another year of the most precious gift of all – life! Growing up with kidney disease in the family made the joy of a birthday abundantly clear to me. When we were three little girls, little did I know that both of my sisters would battle kidney disease. Today is my sister, Janice’s birthday and I humbly give thanks for the miracle of organ donation. Seventeen and a half years ago, a family did the greatest and most difficult thing during their sorrow: at the time of their child’s death, they donated their child’s organs. Janice was the lucky recipient of one of that child’s kidneys. Without it, I may not have sisters to eat cake with and give thanks for the wonderful joy of living! Celebrate birthdays! Always remember to eat cake, laugh and...
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