It's been 18 years since I lost Nancy but I recently returned from the Adirondacks where her ashes reside overlooking Ragged lake and where we return every year. Tears and memories...

Nancy's Nieces Kristen & Kim Kish at Yale University Cancer Center's "Discovery to Cure" Gala 11.18.2006

Morning at Ragged Lake, September 18, 2006

Lizzie's Poem: Unimaginable

Just when we thought
he had forgotten

the singer
cast their names

out over the dark
sea of people

He spoke the name of the woman
who had
slipped into death
with bewildered grace.

He spoke the name of the man
who had fiercely
cradled her.

Like a rich
warm
cloak
their names settled around us

Their love together
known
in an instant

In that moment
something
unimaginable
happened

Joy
seeping in

where
moments before

darkness
reigned.

Summer 2004 (Click Images to enlarge)

Early Diagnosis is Critical

I will try and convey Nancy's story and how, despite an active life, a wonderful spirit and a healthy lifestyle, she was stricken with stage 3C Ovarian Cancer. Had she known how quietly it had begun to spread and how the early, silent symptoms indicated her plight, much might have been done for her at an earlier stage to combat the disease. This will take me a little time but I hope to help others who may benefit from her life's single most dedicated effort to survive.

Nancy was deeply loved and is sadly, painfully missed.

The picture of Nancy below was taken early in her second year of treatment, remission and then recurrence.

Nancy Sailing off Westport, CT - August '04

December 31, 2003

December 31, 2003

Happy days are here again, I feel them coming with the new year. More than ready to turn the calendar, I can now do it with a sense of ease. Good news from Dr. Coscia today. My cancer is in remission; there's never a cure, but that's okay. Risky business he says, but I guess I've always lived on the edge and been adventuresome. That's an adventure I hope never to repeat. The doctor is happy with the results, and he made me feel special as he threw me a kiss across the desk as we wished each other a happy new year. I am grateful for those who help others, and I hope I can be a better person to people in the future.

I was so happy, I quickly called J., then Bill, then I went to tell mom and dad that I was okay. In spite of the way I feel about cemetries, I went. The ground was unsettled where mom is buried, dirt freshly dug up, without grass. I didn't cry, but deeply felt the loneliness of lost loved ones. I so wanted to share the good news with my parents. I wonder if the emptiness I feel will ever feel full with the joys that come my way. Like today's news, I wanted to share it with mom. She would have been a great comfort through this ordeal. But I feel her courage and strength in me

Then I called Tom, Kristen, and Kim, and Kristen quickly called and wished me congratulations. I later called Joanne Duncan who was to call Debbie… very pleased with the news.

I was so excited, I just couldn't go home. But I really had no place to go. I guess that's how people develop shopping addictions. I had a skirt on my mind from Bloomingdales, and had also been thinking about my favorite Lauren saleswoman, Claudette, who is comforting to chat with… and she had also called to see how I was doing, saying this is an old friend, flattering to me that she was thinking of me. I was soon grounded in reality of her need to bring in her clients when she told a client she had called several yesterday to see where they were. Although there are times I do not buy, she never puts on any pressure.


I later called Aunt Betty without reaching her, and Aunt Marie who said she had been thinking of me. Called Susan who called back shortly thereafter to tell me she has been thinking of me.

As I sit here writing I am happy, but it is difficult for me to get back to my routine of playing the piano and afternoon reading. Things will settle down I'm sure and hopefully my life will show some semblance of routine. Not that I want to get into a routine rut, but I believe people need a routine to keep them on track and feel like productive members of society.

It's funny how throughout this illness I really didn't want to talk about it, but I did whine about the aches and pains, and now I want to boast to the world that I am okay. But I think I need to move on; of course, telling those who were with me along the way. Now is time to look forward and not look back; focusing on the moment with an eye on the direction in which I'm going.

I realize I'm not too creative in my words today, but I just wanted to express my joy for the good news.

From Kristen...

I guess I’ll begin by reiterating the poignant statement made by my dear uncle Jacques… Nancy was deeply loved and is sadly, painfully missed.

Nancy Kish was my beloved aunt, and there are no words to even express how great of an impact she had on my life. She gave me strength in times of weakness, courage in times of fear, and love in times of desperation. She provided me with support and understanding when I felt like I had no one else to turn to.

Leading by example, she was the best role model one could ask for. Even before I was old enough to communicate my desires for the future, I knew I wanted to be like her – to live life like she did. Nancy gave me strength as a female in this world. She taught me that I can accomplish anything, and to never let a silly thing like a glass ceiling get in my way. Nancy helped me view things differently, to look beyond the surface. She opened my eyes to the reality of so many different subjects, and for that I am eternally grateful. Nancy was there with me from day one – and now at the age of 25 I can’t even begin to comprehend how I will go on without her. It wasn’t her time. I just can’t get that thought out of my head. It wasn’t her time.

Nancy’s struggle with cancer was a hard one, and I truly don’t think it would have been possible for her to fight any harder. The strength she possessed – it amazes me every day.

Kristen's Birthday Note

July 6, 2004

Dearest Kristen,

Now that you're a real adult,
and knee deep in muddle…
so many choices, forks in the road,
a desire to do the right thing…
Remember, you must still have
chaos in your life
to give birth to a "Dancing Star!".

I hope you gleen some insight
from the Four Agreements.
They're simple, but offer a sense of peace…
calming the monkey chatter
that swirls around in the mind.

Happy 24th!
I hope you find much joy and love
in next year's journey.

From Nancy's Journal in June 2003

6/10/03

It's amazing how a life can change in the span of a moment. I'm sitting here with the weight of the world on my chest causing shortness of breath and an aching in my heart. It was only Sunday we celebrated mom's 81st birthday and she was so excited about coming up for a visit. She loved the luscious lunches J and I prepared and always praised us for our ability to entertain. She loved sitting in the garden room overlooking the trees, reminding her of home, sheltered by a huge maple tree.

How do you begin to record this sad picture that occurred the morning after as she called my brother and asked for help. You knew her pain was intense as she had a high threshold for pain. For the month or so I had been concerned about her weight loss and complaints of constipation. She convinced me it was just a sign of old age.

It was scary to hear that once in the emergency room she was given morphine without much relief. I knew then it was serious.

I admire her courage as she said she that she had a good life. She reflected back on her exotic vacations she took with dad and felt she had seen the world.

How does one grapple with 3-6 months, maybe a year to live? She immediately said she would go into hospice so she wouldn't be a burden to her children. We felt a ray of hope this afternoon when her surgeon said that we need to take it a step at a time, his goal to get her stronger from the operation so she could go home to live out her remaining days. We had tried to tell her to take a day at a time, but when the doctor mentioned home, her eyes lit up in optimism. She would try it a home for a while and when things got worse she would head to hospice.

Today we don't know how much the cancer has spread, but we do know from the doctor's diagram, there were growths spreading throughout her stomach and into her intestine.

It's so sad to watch her grimace. It's got to be bad. Why else would they give her access to the magic button to push for self-administered pain medication?

6/12/03

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tunes without the words
And never stops -- at all
- Emily Dickinson -













What a difference a day can make. Yesterday mom was doing so much better. I am so proud of her and her courage. She asked the doctor, point blank, to tell her the duration of her time… the surgeon said six months, her doctor said 1 year. It is so hard to tell.

She is really positive about getting ready to come home, even if that means a stop at the nursing home for rehabilitation. She is already planning how she and her neighbor Leigh will sit on the porch together to enjoy the summer… the loving and caring person she is, she is concerned about Leigh being alone.

I'm also proud of the way she relates to people… making each health care provider feel special. She knows how to charm and it comes straight from the heart.

However right now I am feeling the weight of the world, but holding on to hope. Sadly, the stress levels are escalating as I returned home this morning from coffee with a call from Dr. Sivak, but nothing serious. My numbers are high on the Gilda Radner test, but that can result from increased fibroid size or menses, or even endometriosis… with a score of 800 vs. 80 avg for the CA125 test. The doctor is getting me in for a CAT scan. The worse case scenario a hysterectomy.
I'm upset but I think I'm still numbed by the shock and all that's going on. I do have hope. I've been fortunate to be healthy all along, so I have to just hope for the best. I'll do my best not to jump to conclusions and focus on mom and her journey back home.

She's a great role model. Just two days after surgery and she was up walking and sitting on a chair. We get a good sense that she wants to get strong so she can come home and spend her days with family and friends. You could see her determination in how she blew the breathing exercise device to open her lungs… after she got the plan about going to a senior's home for rehab, then home, she got two of the three balls up, whereby earlier, she only achieved one. You could see her drive and determination.

6/18/03

I can't believe this is happening. I just talked to my Doctor and he said I might have a bit of ovarian cancer. So I am seeing a Yale specialist who he said is an expert and can help.

Prognosis has not been mentioned, and I didn't ask due to fear. I need to muster up some strength tomorrow and ask the difficult questions like my mom did.

It's hard to believe that just yesterday I took my mom to hospice. Who knows where her journey will take her, but if there is a place to be when faced with a terminal condition, that's the place.

I was so proud of my mom's courage as she left the hospital and went to face what could be her final destination. I hope not, I continue to look for a miracle whereby she could eat and be in remission for a year. What strength it took for her to say, I feel like I'm going home as she entered the beautiful complex with views of the healing waters of Long Island Sound. Today, her spirits were good and she said she would force herself to eat and, who knows, she may go into remission for a year or so.

Cancer is a scary word, and you feel like you're damaged goods. But I must keep up the hope, not only for me but also for Jacques and my family. J. is so supportive and positive. I pray the outcome for mom and myself is positive. It's a journey that we are taking together. I just don't want to upset her so I will have to figure out a way to get through this without disrupting her spirits. She needs her strength.

I just think of how beautiful she looked yesterday in her periwinkle outfit, how calm and serene she looked. I just hope I can reach her level of courage as I face the days ahead.

I'm happy to have my doctor advising me and I believe he has sent me to the right source. But the unknown is so frightening. I could live with a hysterectomy and I hope that's the worse case scenario. It makes me now wonder about the rib pain I have since November and hope there is no relation.

Journal Entry...August 16, 2004

August 16, 2004

It's a rainy Monday and my tears are flowing as quickly as mother nature releases her tears to the earth. I try to grasp for hope, but read the statistics that scare me ever time I try to learn more about this nasty disease. 3-5 years survival rates for advanced stages are frightening figures for someone combating this disease. It's been a little over two weeks since I began my second-line treatment for a recurrence. For me, recurrence sounds more scary, like a nagging itch that just won't go away, regardless how often you soothe the discomfort with cremes.

The last few months I have been more upbeat than not, even as my CA-125 numbers continued to rise. I have truly felt a sense of happiness, not only to help me along with my recovery, but from a true sense of the word. I have felt hope. I am grateful for J. He has been my lifeline and keeps me on a positive progression.

My depression not only comes from the uncertainty of things. I have to live with the words from doctors saying we're not sure this new therapy is going to work. A real challenge. But it also comes from the turn my life took before my illness was diagnosed, not to mention a diagnosis coming on the coattails of my mom's condition that would lead to a most desperate loss. Being out of work for 2-1/2 years had taken its toll on my sense of hope as I struggled to pick myself up and brush myself off after rejection after rejection. I have sent out very few resumes since my recurrence became a topic.

I am happy for the world spinning around me, but I can't understand why I can't stay in the race. People around me have lives that change with new opportunities, but my feet seem to be stuck in the mud. And because of the disappointments I've suffered because of my mom and the job scene, it becomes difficult to grasp a sense that things will take a turn for the best. I keep going by the thought that maybe I'm really taking a turn for the better, but it's just a major curve to navigate. I am thankful that for the most part I am feeling well with minimal side effects from the chemo… a bit of nausea and fatigue after this second round. But I am happy to say the day after my second treatment I was doing my pilates and yoga.

I just want to get some momentum and meaning in my life. I want to work and feel productive, but for now, there really aren't any appropriate jobs… and I fear the age discrimination issue I so blatantly faced with Kraft and Colangelo. Interestingly, how things came to a dead halt after they asked me my birthday. Those jobs weren't right for me, but I would love to contribute my skills to a small company who could benefit from my communications skills. I want to march to the beat that most working Americans do every day. Staying at home is a drag and through the years I have kept the momentum going with exercise, art classes, and excessive shopping at times has just led to more anxiety.

I've got to grasp for hope. Live strong as Lance Armstrong advocates. And I have to fight back and not accept the statistics.

Ragged Lake...August 2004

The Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
That where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is wrong, forgiveness;
Where there is discord, harmony
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
And where there's sadness, joy.
Grant that I may not so much seek
to be comforted as to comfort;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;

For it is by self-forgetting that we find;
It is by forgiving that we are forgiven.
It is by dying that we are born to Eternal Life. Amen."