zaichikarky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zaichikarky) wrote2016-01-22 01:44 pm
zaichikarky) wrote2016-01-22 01:44 pm
LJ Idol Week 6: Ovarian Punch
It is said that the 5 year survival rate for Ovarian cancer is 45%, for breast cancer it's closer to 90%. The symptoms for the disease rarely come about early and it is very hard to detect in the early stages. Usually women will feel persistent abdominal pain at one point, but by then it's the later stages of the disease. Barack Obama's mother, Ann Dunham, died from the illness at 52 years old. She is said to be the inspiration behind his unwavering commitment to reform the healthcare system.
I remember my mother. She was 52 years old when she died of ovarian cancer, and you know what she was thinking about in the last months of her life? She wasn't thinking about getting well. She wasn't thinking about coming to terms with her own mortality. She had been diagnosed just as she was transitioning between jobs. And she wasn't sure whether insurance was going to cover the medical expenses because they might consider this a preexisting condition. I remember just being heartbroken, seeing her struggle through the paperwork and the medical bills and the insurance forms. So, I have seen what it's like when somebody you love is suffering because of a broken health care system. And it's wrong. It's not who we are as a people.
Masae wasn't even in her 50s. She was only in her late 30s when she succumbed to the illness. I met her when I first started teaching English in Japan. She was one of the Japanese staff at the private English Academy I taught at for about a year and a half. She had started shortly before I had, and I will always remember her incredible positivity. Sometimes fellow teachers complained about difficult classes, she had some difficult classes of her own. She never had anything negative to say. She would always encourage me with her "ganbatte ne!". I got to know her a little better every Monday when she and I had a lot of downtime at a remote office. She was studying for an English proficiency exam, and we'd chat a lot. She was thin, tall , and pretty. I commented on her height once, she was tall for a Japanese woman, being about 170cm (5'8). In middle school she would hunch over because she felt insecure about her height. She would always join us for onsen nights where my fellow female co-teacher would go to the Japanese bath house. She was amused by my childish antics of wanting to make a typhoon or a tsunami in the empty bath.
When she was first diagnosed, the doctors didn't want to take an aggressive form to the treatment because they wanted to attempt to preserve her fertility since she was still young. It didn't work and the cancer spread. I don't know how long she struggled with the illness, but at one point in late 2012, after I'd left Japan for about four years, we were encouraged to leave our goodbyes suddenly. We were all shocked by this information and disappointed most of us had moved back to our respected countries so we couldn't see her in person. We sent her boyfriend our goodbyes by e-mail, which he read to her during her last days, however by then she wasn't completely mentally present. We posted eulogies which were read and translated to her parents during her funeral.
Sadly, this is the only picture I have of her. We were hanging out in the nearby Izakaya (like a Japanese-style pub) when my boyfriend came for a visit
She's between me and Ken, another fellow co-worker.
Whenever we get married, my boyfriend only wants to go to Japan for a honeymoon. I might be going back sooner than I expected. Just a few days ago, my fellow coteacher and good friend, Dana stopped by for a few days on her way to New Zealand. She messaged me on the train as she was arriving. "It's going to be hard not having Masae there : (". Masae was someone who sat with her for a few hours at a diner when Dana needed guidance from a friend. It'll be hard for me too. I always expected to see her the next time I would visit Japan. We miss you, Ma-chan!
I remember my mother. She was 52 years old when she died of ovarian cancer, and you know what she was thinking about in the last months of her life? She wasn't thinking about getting well. She wasn't thinking about coming to terms with her own mortality. She had been diagnosed just as she was transitioning between jobs. And she wasn't sure whether insurance was going to cover the medical expenses because they might consider this a preexisting condition. I remember just being heartbroken, seeing her struggle through the paperwork and the medical bills and the insurance forms. So, I have seen what it's like when somebody you love is suffering because of a broken health care system. And it's wrong. It's not who we are as a people.
Masae wasn't even in her 50s. She was only in her late 30s when she succumbed to the illness. I met her when I first started teaching English in Japan. She was one of the Japanese staff at the private English Academy I taught at for about a year and a half. She had started shortly before I had, and I will always remember her incredible positivity. Sometimes fellow teachers complained about difficult classes, she had some difficult classes of her own. She never had anything negative to say. She would always encourage me with her "ganbatte ne!". I got to know her a little better every Monday when she and I had a lot of downtime at a remote office. She was studying for an English proficiency exam, and we'd chat a lot. She was thin, tall , and pretty. I commented on her height once, she was tall for a Japanese woman, being about 170cm (5'8). In middle school she would hunch over because she felt insecure about her height. She would always join us for onsen nights where my fellow female co-teacher would go to the Japanese bath house. She was amused by my childish antics of wanting to make a typhoon or a tsunami in the empty bath.
When she was first diagnosed, the doctors didn't want to take an aggressive form to the treatment because they wanted to attempt to preserve her fertility since she was still young. It didn't work and the cancer spread. I don't know how long she struggled with the illness, but at one point in late 2012, after I'd left Japan for about four years, we were encouraged to leave our goodbyes suddenly. We were all shocked by this information and disappointed most of us had moved back to our respected countries so we couldn't see her in person. We sent her boyfriend our goodbyes by e-mail, which he read to her during her last days, however by then she wasn't completely mentally present. We posted eulogies which were read and translated to her parents during her funeral.
Sadly, this is the only picture I have of her. We were hanging out in the nearby Izakaya (like a Japanese-style pub) when my boyfriend came for a visit
She's between me and Ken, another fellow co-worker.
Whenever we get married, my boyfriend only wants to go to Japan for a honeymoon. I might be going back sooner than I expected. Just a few days ago, my fellow coteacher and good friend, Dana stopped by for a few days on her way to New Zealand. She messaged me on the train as she was arriving. "It's going to be hard not having Masae there : (". Masae was someone who sat with her for a few hours at a diner when Dana needed guidance from a friend. It'll be hard for me too. I always expected to see her the next time I would visit Japan. We miss you, Ma-chan!
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*hugs*
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I've been thinking of a bunch of 80's New Wave hits when I've been reading entries. This one seems appropriate here:
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What does "ganbatte ne!" mean?
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