Beware the Ides of March!

My Mother used to say, "Beware the ides of march", in a deep, powerful voice, then hunch her head down and look around as if someone were sneaking up on us.  My sister and I would have such a laugh. It got so every March 15th, we'd go through this tradition, the minute we came into the kitchen for breakfast.  

I started it with my kids when they got a little older and first thing in the morning, on that day, I'd call my Mother and in my deepest, most foreboding voice say the phrase and then hang up the phone.  The Ides of March was a very superstitious day for us--much worse than any Friday the 13th.  

My sister and I still say it to each other, but it is no longer a funny tradition.

I posted this on Face Book this morning.
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This is personal, and many would say, “Why does it matter now?”

I thought this might be a good venue for my family and cousins to finally see the truth and as information for others who might come up against this disease.

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Our Mother died 46 years ago today, 3 months shy of her 54^th birthday.  I was 31, my sister 17.  There was never a cause found for her death. She had been extremely healthy all her life.

 Every year, on March 15th, I wrote a letter to Henry Ford Hospital, requesting ALL her hospital records.  I wanted to know if this was some sort of genetic quirk that we should know about.  

It took me 20 years, but I finally received the thick, envelope in the mail.  Inside were letters between her doctors at Owosso Memorial, Henry Ford Hospital and the Hematology specialist in Detroit.  Notes from the specialist saying, “I can find nothing wrong with this woman.” 

It has been very difficult for me not to know the “why”.  All we knew is that it seemed something was wrong with her blood.   Yes—a brain aneurysm (after a blood transfusion) ended her life, but that was not the cause of her underlying two year “disease”.  The autopsy showed nothing!

Fast forward to a couple of months ago.  An elderly lady (87), who (coincidentally) lives on my street, was hospitalized. She had the exact same symptoms as my Mother.  “They” thought she had internal bleeding so an endoscopy/colonoscopy was done, kidney biopsy, liver biopsy, spinal tap and finally a bone marrow puncture.  Exactly the tests our Mother had.  

“They” gave the lady blood transfusions until that didn’t help anymore—exactly what our Mother had gone through.  The lady passed away in December.  She was also seen by specialists.  It took them a long time to come up with a “maybe” diagnosis. 

(Coincidentally) My doctor was one that this lady had seen, so, when I had my yearly appointment with my doc in January, I asked him about this deadly, whatever it is, disease. 

They now “think” it is MDS—Myelodysplastic Syndrome—the prefix “myelo”, having to do with spinal or bone marrow.   Not Aplastic Anemia.  Not Leukemia.  Not Multiple Myeloma (blood cancer).  The bone marrow “simply” stops  making red blood cells, but also stops making white blood cells and platelets.  It usually starts in younger people.  They are (mis) diagnosed with anemia and given B12 injections and put on iron supplements.  It gradually gets worse.   

There is no known cure.  Possibly a bone marrow transplant could help, but that is not a guarantee. It is a rather rare blood disorder with about 8,000 cases in the US each year.  Because it is so rare, there aren’t a lot of research programs.

So—here we are, 46 years later, still with no real information on what causes this anomaly or how to treat it.

Why does all of this make me feel better?  Because now, I am pretty sure I know the “why” our Mother died, and I didn’t want to wait until I got to Heaven to get the answers!  Don’t we all want to know the “why”?

But, I also have to wonder—were these just coincidences?  That I would just happen to live on the same street as the elderly lady with the same disorder?  That my doctor just happened to be one of many that treated her?  

I rather think it was God’s way to finally ease my mind.

Maybe not the "why", but the "what"?
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One of the last photos of my Mother.  She looked as vibrant, happy and smiley as she always had.