Kathy

Kathleen Frances Silvey

1958-2009

Today is the second anniversary of the death of one of my best friends. Kathy had every quality I would ever want in a friend: she was kind, patient, smart, unselfish, fun, and loving. She gave great advice, but only after first asking if she could please say something...and apologize to me in advance, afraid she might offend me. She loved the outdoors and her exercise classes; she had a ridiculous amount of Christmas decorations, too many bad lycra workout pants, and an enormous amount of love for her friends.

Kathy faced an unbelievable battle with cancer and she did it as just a fact of life, something that she had to deal with the best that she could. She was essentially alone, without the support of her family; her friends became her family, and she was like our sister. We went anywhere she needed to go: medical appointments, chemo, counseling, or just shopping for groceries. She repaid me by contributing to my extensive tacky pen collection.

Every moment with her was cherished, especially as her cancer progressed. I admired her bravery, and still do, and wondered how this short little woman who refused to cuss and never wanted anybody to be upset, could get on a plane in her darkest days, and make her way across the country for an experimental surgery and treatment. She refused to have anyone go with her. The only time she was mad at me was when I brought a wheelchair to the airport to pick her up after her surgery; she wouldn't sit in it and made me put it back in the car.

I remember when she started losing her hair; she asked me to go with her to the cancer resource center to pick out wigs. She looked fabulous in every wig she tried, from a spiky blonde to long, black gothic hair. She opted for a more conservative look, because she didn't want to draw attention to herself. She never complained when her hands and feet turned red and raw as a side effect from one of the chemo drugs she was taking. It looked painful but she didn't say much; her first question to me when I'd ask her if it hurt--she wanted to know if her hands 'grossed' me out. 

Kathy had such a good attitude but naturally there were days when it was tough on her...nights especially. We got into the routine of talking every night, and if I didn't hear from her, I would call to check on her. Often I would find her wide awake and unable to sleep. We would talk and laugh at infomercials or a late night movie, and more often than not, I would hang up when I heard her breathing change...followed by the sound of her sleeping. She'd rush into the office the next morning at work, apologetic and embarrassed.

She was a fabulous, kind, and loving friend and nurse. She worked hard and had many friends, and many people who admired her strength. Determined to keep going, Kathy refused to quit working and did what she could, even if it meant working only four hours a day doing things that she was completely over-qualified to do. When she finally gave in and retired, Kathy moved to Colorado and bought a house--something she had always wanted to do. The day Kathy died was an absolute low point for so many of us. Often you hear people say their lives are changed by somebody, and forever altered when that person is gone. Kathy was that kind of person and I miss her so much.