Michelle

In September 1977, I met a little blue-eyed girl named Michelle Smith. It was our very first day of first grade at Scott Elementary School in Salem. The way she tells the story is that she was leaning against a wall during recess, all alone, and I was playing with a group of other girls. I noticed her and walked over and asked her to join us.

I am really not sure that it happened that way because I am SO not a social butterfly...but she always insists this is how our introduction went down...and I guess she now gets the last word on that.

She asked me my name and I replied "Pooh" to which she said, "Your name is POOH??" I told her, no, my name is "Patti Dawson." She went home and told her mom she met a new girl named "Pooh Patti Dawson" at school that day. Her mom was a little unsure of a kid with that name, and what kind of parents would choose that name for their kid. ;o)

We ended up moving into the house next door to Michelle not long after we met. Our moms became good friends and our families just meshed. Michelle had a five-year-old sister, Sharrie Lee, and, along with my sister Debbie, we had lots of fun together. My brother Kenny enjoyed tormenting us, and we secretly liked it, too.

Our favorite game involved orphans and dogs. Michelle & I were always the orphans; Debbie & Sharrie Lee were always our dogs. If we weren't orphans and dogs, we were playing in a "ditch" that was a couple of houses down. We found pollywogs & salamanders & always had lots of fun just being kids.

We moved away when I was in second grade but we stayed in contact. I'm not sure how often we saw each other, maybe every couple of months, but it was always like we'd never been apart.

I was Michelle's roommate for a time, back in 1994-1995. We had lots of fun times there, too. It was then that Michelle started dating a funny guy named Steve. I took off for school in Phoenix, AZ in 1995 and Michelle & Steve moved in to a house in West Salem. When I moved back from Arizona I landed in Portland but we all still managed to see each other when we could.

Michelle & Steve married in 1998, followed eleven months later by Mike & I tying the knot.

When Cannon died in 2002, Michelle was so supportive. She sent cards & she called. She knew me well enough to know that I keep things inside and she never, ever let me forget that I did things that way. She was the same way, but she didn't want things to eat at me. She even called me in the wee hours of the morning that Cannon died; it was around 4-5 a.m., which is a very big deal if you know that Michelle would have loved to sleep until 11 or 12 every day. For her to wake up and call showed me how much she cared.

In 2004, Michelle delivered Jamey at 25 weeks gestation. I was living in Lake Oswego and Jamey was in the NICU at St. V's so Michelle & I saw each other more frequently through Jamey. She would come to my house to eat before going to see Jamey, or I would take lunch to her at the hospital. Michelle really connected with me over her experience with Jamey, because of what I went through with Cannon. At first I kept telling her, "But Michelle, Jamey is alive! He is doing great!" because I thought any comparison between Jamey and Cannon would jinx the outcome for Jamey. Silly, yes, but there that is.

Michelle eventually made me realize that what she connected with was my pregnancy loss. She grieved losing her pregnancy. She was terrified of what would happen to her baby boy...but she also had the harsh reality & guilt to deal with: could she have done something wrong to cause his early arrival. Of course not, but boy could I relate to her here! It was terrible that we had these experiences to bond over, but so good that we had each other to talk with.

Michelle was diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2006, just days after Jamey turned two. A painful lump under her arm turned out to be cancer. She had lymph nodes removed and followed that up with chemo & radiation. She completed her treatment just in time for her 36th birthday.

In early 2008 tumors were discovered in her lungs. She began a new medication in the hopes that the tumors would shrink. They didn't. As a matter of fact, they spread. She began chemo once again, and had radiation on her brain for a while. In the end, Michelle had tumors in her lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, spine, and brain. Possibly more places that I don't recall.

In February this year it was determined that nothing more could be done, and treatment was stopped. Michelle was mobile until last Friday, when she had a serious set-back. She ended up in the hospital from Friday until Sunday and was released home with oxygen. At that point she needed around the clock care.

Steve did such a great job of caring for her. He didn't complain and was hesitant to ask for help. While caring for her I would hear him whisper to her that he loved her. That is one of the sweetest things I've ever witnessed.

On Wednesday, April 8th, Michelle passed away at a little before noon. Her death was very peaceful: she simply stopped breathing. Her husband, mom, and dad were in the room with her. The were talking to each other when Pat (her dad) said, "Is she breathing?" It turns out she wasn't. There was no gasping for breath, no pain. She simply stopped breathing.

At the end of such a long, tragic, and brutal road, I am so happy that my friend's suffering is gone and that she had such a dignified, calm death.

We all stayed in the house with Michelle's body for about five hours. We would alternate sitting in the room with her, holding her hands, and going to other rooms in the house. I cannot explain how nice it was that everyone was so okay with being around her body. No one was afraid to touch her or talk to her. Steve would lie next to her some of the time, cradling her head and holding her hands, while "us girls" sat on the other bed in the bedroom. We would joke and laugh and cry and realize what we just lost. Michelle would have been happy that we were doing exactly what we were doing.

So, at age 37, she's gone. I will miss her like crazy.