The Last Few Years

     It was a quiet and overcast day when my mother got the call; I was in the kitchen fixing myself a snack, and behind me stood my mother. When she got off the phone I noticed she started to cry. I asked what was wrong, but shetook her time to respond. My aunt had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Prior to that day, my aunt couldn’t open one of her eyes, so she was sent to an eye doctor, who in turn sent her to get a CAT scan. She got the CAT scan, and the neurosurgeon there noticed an anomaly in her brain, which they thought was a benign, non-harmful brain tumor. However, the neurologist was suspicious that the tumor may not be so harmless, and that my my aunt might not live long. My mom was going to go to San Diego for her surgery. After I had heard the horrible news, I solemnly walked to my sisters room, tears swimming in my eyes.

     “What’s wrong?” Steffi asked.

     “Mami was just on the phone with Tante Bine (Tahn-teh Bee-neh). She had a CAT scan and they found a brain tumor. Mami is going to San Diego soon for her surgery. Tante Bine might not make it” I replied, my voice wavering on the last part. Steffi was horrified. She and I walked back to the kitchen, and we both hugged our mother.

     Later in the week, my mom grabbed the next available flight to San Diego. When Tante Bine got the surgery done, the surgeon told her that he couldn’t get all of the tumor out; it had attached itself to the bone. At home, Steffi and I were worrying about Tante Bine, and hoping that she would be alright.

     A week had passed before my mom arrived back at home, and back in San Diego, Tante Bine started radiation therapy to hopefully rid herself of the tumor after she had recovered from the surgery. My parents were researching the best specialist neurologist in California, and once they had found one, my mom traveled back to San Diego and took Tante Bine to the specialist in Los Angeles. He put her on chemotherapy, and we all had hopes that it would work and she would survive. I spent much of my free time thinking about how terrible this all was, and how life can be very unpredictable at times.

     That summer, the summer of 2006, we were planning to go to Italy, but then had to cancel the trip because Tante Bine was on chemo. Instead, we rented a beach house in Carlsbad, and Tante Bine joined us a few days. We hardly saw her because she had just started chemo and she wasn’t feeling too well, and her hair started to fall out in clumps.

     In the summer of 2007, she had a wedding in Aruba, and by then, it seemed as though the chemotherapy had worked and gotten rid of the cancer. We all went to the wedding and had a fun time on the small island. We were happy that Tante Bine appeared to be all better. Our hopes were high, but then they were shot down when in August, the tumor came back. The chemotherapy had not worked; it only suppressed the tumor for a while. My mom flew back up to San Diego, and went with Tante Bine for her gamma knife surgery, another attempt to get rid of the tumor. I was at home, hoping that everything would all be alright, and that the tumor would finally be able to be removed, but that did not happen.

     In December, Tante Bine came to Tucson for Christmas, and again it seemed as though she was all better. We had a fun Christmas as a family, and everyone was happy to be back together again. Once Christmas had passed, Tante Bine returned to San Diego, and everyone’s spirits were high after the holidays. But of course, nothing good can last. The tumor had grown back again, and Tante Bine had to get another gamma knife surgery,the last attempt to remove the tumor. As before, it seemed as though it had worked, and in March of 2008, she came back to Tucson, along with Tante Caroline, my other aunt, to spend some time with my mom on a sister weekend in Sedona. We had all thought that she was better; I was happy to have my aunt back, and my mom was glad to have her sister back.

     A few months later, we rented a beach house in Encinitas, California, and Tante Bine joined us. We had a great time; my dad, sister, and I took some surfing lessons, and it was amazing to be free at the beach with nothing to worry about except getting salt-water in your eyes or wiping out while riding a wave. However, not all was great. Near the end of the week, everyone noticed that Tante Bine got sicker and sicker. I was devastated; I realized that my aunt was probably going to die. A week after we got home, Nikki and Mami flew back to San Diego, where Tante Bine was really sick. When they were there, she died. Everyone was heartbroken. I was angry at life for taking her away when it wasn’t her time; she was only about 50 years old. My mom was hit the hardest; losing her older sister was terrible. A while later, everyone came out to San Diego for her memorial service, friends, family, and everyone who cared about her. In August of that year, we took her ashes and scattered them in the Sabino Canyon, where Tante Bine and her sisters used to hike when they were little. It was her final wish, to be part of the desert that she grew up in.