Laura’s Story, Part 9

Written by Christine Scott

ChristineIt’s with mixed emotions I sit down to write this last segment of Laura’s Story. As I search for the appropriate words to explain the concluding years of Laura’s life, I pray for courage to confront the painful memories surrounding her death.

Life changed as my family grew. In the early years of my marriage and family life, I included my mom and Laura. It was easy. My family was small and young. We made time for them. We fit our lives into theirs. As the years progressed my kids became involved in various activities. Soon sporting events, dance recitals and school activities crowded our schedule. It was never easy for my mom to bring Laura to these types of activities. We drifted apart, but sometimes we’d go out to eat and we always spent the holidays together.

Laura's Family, Silver Lake

Nate, Christine, LeRoyne, Laura, Eric, and Mom at Silver Lake

Weeks went by where I didn’t talk to my mom. I stopped inviting her to my kid’s activities because she always had a reason not to attend. I think she felt relieved when I stopped asking, but my heart ached for her to be a part of my kid’s lives.

While Mom worked, Laura attended a sheltered workshop where she assembled kits. Laura’s behavior at home was still pretty bad. She often spent all day refusing to get dressed and making it so my mom missed work and important events like my kid’s baby blessings and baptisms. She never hit or pulled my mom’s hair, but she would get in her face and yell. Eventually the doctors listened to my mom and prescribed medication for Laura’s behaviors. They improved a little, but medicine rarely fixes years of ingrained behaviors.

Laura’s health began to decline in her late thirties. She battled pneumonia once or twice a year, requiring hospitalization. Eventually she needed to be on oxygen at night. Many times when she was hospitalized we wondered if this would be the time she didn’t recover. I remember thinking maybe Mom could be a part of our lives after Laura passed away, when the demands to take care of Laura weren’t her main focus—and then I felt guilty for thinking such a thing.

Mom, Laura, Eric and baby Dallin

Mom, Laura, Eric holding baby Dallin

When Laura was hospitalized for the second round of pneumonia in less than six months, my brother, Eric, confided in me that he thought she wouldn’t be going home this time. She recovered enough to be placed in a long-term care facility. During this time Mom retired from her job.

After a few weeks at the care facility, Laura contracted HA-MRSA (Healthcare Associated Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus). The MRSA went into her lungs and the doctors said it had torn them up. They had her in ICU on a BiPAP machine.

A few days passed while the reality of Laura’s death loomed over our heads. I spent hours at the hospital with Mom. There was a time when Laura seemed to be getting better, but the doctors talked about putting in a feeding tube, saying she’d never be able to eat again. The best case scenario for Laura was being released to a long-term acute care facility where she’d always be on a BiPAP machine (which was considered life support because she couldn’t breathe on her own).

After considering the counsel from various doctors, including Laura’s primary care physician, Mom made the very difficult decision to take Laura off life support.

The next evening, we all gathered in Laura’s hospital room. The chaplain met with us first. I don’t remember what she said, but remember her warmth and support. After she left, a nurse came in and administered heavy doses of pain medication so Laura wouldn’t feel anything. After the medication had enough time to take effect, they removed the BiPAP machine.

Laura was the most alert she’d been in weeks. It was probably a relief not to have that machine over her face. And that’s when the doubts started flooding through me. Had we made a mistake? Maybe the doctors were wrong. Maybe she could recover. I’m pretty sure the same doubts were racing through Mom’s thoughts a hundred fold.

I don’t think we ever said goodbye and I don’t know if she would have understood if we did.

As Laura became depleted of oxygen, she was less coherent until unconsciousness overtook her. We watched and waited as her heart continued to strongly beat. The nurse told us the heart would often beat long after the patient stopped breathing.

This made me wonder, if Laura had been normal, would we have run together.  She obviously had the heart of a marathon runner. I felt cheated of having those kinds of memories with my sister. I missed her being whole and beautiful.

Slowly her heart stopped beating and she quietly passed away. One minute she was in the room with us and the next, she was gone. As I look back, the experience didn’t seem real to me. It was like watching someone else go through the steps of losing a sibling.

My grieving process was different after losing a mentally disabled sister.  First there was some guilt because I really didn’t miss her in the sense you miss someone who was close to you. Because of her disability, we never were close and my love for her was different. She was my sister and I was supposed to love her, but there were times, if I’m completely honest with myself, that I hated her. So after she died, I felt guilty for those emotions. Also, there was a little bit of relief—that maybe our family could finally be normal and feel peace. And I felt guilty about that too.

Breathtakingly PerfectI came across this quote by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland a few years after Laura had died when I was asked to give a talk in church on the resurrection of our Savior. Writing and giving that talk helped me through my grieving process. The knowledge that someday Laura will stand before me in her perfect form and we will be able to build that sister relationship we were denied in this life because of her disability brings me great comfort.

 

In February, Christine Scott started sharing childhood segments of her life with her mentally disabled sister, Laura. It’s been inspiring to get a child’s perspective on her family’s caregiving journey and the trials they had to withstand. The first segment of Laura’s Story, recounts her birth and slow development. In Part 2, Christine recalls the impact of Laura’s seizures and in Part 3, details of Laura’s fight with cancer. Part 4, reveals how Christine, at age ten, learned about the accident which lead to her father’s death and Part 5, recognizes the community of angels who helped her family get through their darkest days. Part 6, illustrates the importance of building fun memories with our loved ones, which can ease the grief of losing them. Part 7, Christine remembers her mother’s extreme demands as a young widow caring for three children on her own with the oldest having mental and physical disabilities and the youngest an infant. Unfortunately, Christine, the middle child who didn’t require attention was sorely neglected and often responsible for taking care of her baby brother. Part 8, reminds us of the importance of advocacy and the difference it can make in our lives.

Thanks, Christine, for being a guest author and sharing your life story of living with Laura. You have shown us that growing up with another person who needs a lot of care and attention is difficult. We appreciate your honesty and for sharing your grieving process with us. As a caregiver, your story has made me realize that I need to be more mindful of my own children, parents and other loved ones who may need me. Sometimes it’s hard to see their needs when I’m so wrapped up in the care of Mark. I appreciate your insights.

Laura’s Story, Part 8

Written by Christine Scott

Christine

Christine Scott

This post is much easier to write because I can finally include my happily ever after. Weeks ago I was thinking about the story of Cinderella and how, out of all the fairy tales, it’s been told and retold the most. I believe this is because Cinderella’s plight resonates with so many people.

Looking back on my childhood and growing up years, I lived a story similar to Cinderella. My dad passed away while I was very young, leaving my care to a mother who prioritized another sibling’s well-being over mine. I don’t fault her for choosing to put Laura’s needs before mine because my mom’s dedication was necessary for Laura to receive the care she needed. If a mother doesn’t fight for her disabled child, who will?

What distinguishes my story from Cinderella’s is that my mom wasn’t the villain and neither was Laura. In true life, people aren’t easily identifiable as the black and white stereotypes of villains and heroes. They come in every shade between and more often than not, their choices for good or ill, are a result of trying to make the best out of the less-than-stellar circumstances they’ve been given.

For the most part, that’s where the similarities end between mine and Cinderella’s story. I didn’t sing to the animals, have mice as friends, or receive a visit from my fairy god mother. I won’t lie, a visit from a fairy god mother would be very nice. But I did find my prince, and in very unconventional way—Laura helped with that

To catch you up to speed on the timeline of our lives, my grandma recovered from her stroke and was able to independently live in her own home for many years following my grandpa’s death. She never did obtain a driver’s license and with becoming a widow, she became very proficient at public transportation.

When I was thirteen, my mom made a down payment with the royalties she received from my dad’s hang glider plans on a new house. This home was built in West Valley, so we moved about fifteen minutes away from my grandma, but Mom kept in daily contact with her. She continued to be an integral part of our family, taking family vacations with us and helping with my brother. She also shared her love of flowers and history with me whenever given the chance, which fueled my passion for writing and yearnings for her green thumb.

Life went on and I started dating, got my first job at Harmon’s grocery store, graduated from high school, and attended Salt Lake Community College. The doctors eventually controlled Laura’s seizures with many modifications to her medications. She continued to have a lot of behaviors such as picking her face, tantrums, and repetition of certain phrases. She carried around toys and talked to them and she loved Richard Simons workout videos and watching Wizard of Oz.

Dating and having Laura for a sister made for some interesting times because she loved to answer the phone and then repeat her nonsense phrases to whoever was on the other end—usually stuff she’d memorized from shows she’d watched. I learned that letting her answer the phone when guys called who I didn’t want to see again was a great way to get rid of them.

I believe having a mentally disabled sister served as an effective screening process for the guys who came into my life. It took someone understanding and tolerant of disabilities. It required acceptance of differences to be in a relationship with me for an extended amount of time.

Eventually, I met my husband, Nate and he hung around through Laura answering the phone and her tantrums. He even stuck up for me. Laura usually was well behaved in his presence because he expected her to be kind to me.

Laura holding Jessica

Laura holding Jessica

After we were married, Laura treated me different. She never physically picked on me again. Maybe it was because I didn’t live with her and our roles had changed, but I don’t know for sure. When my first daughter, Jessica was born, Laura was fascinated with her, except when she cried. I would have to take Jessica out of the room so it wouldn’t upset her.

Marriage brought a freedom and peace which had been lacking in my life. I was able to progress and explore my talents. From the first time we met, Nate believed in me and my abilities. I will forever be grateful to him for not judging my family situation and loving me through all the strangeness. He was my prince who rescued me and keeps rescuing me every day.

Mom, Laura & Jessica

Mom holding Jessica with Laura

Together, Nate and I have faced many challenges and grown together while caring for our five children. I have absolutely loved being his companion through this craziness I call our life.  He has put up with my marathon running, dreams of becoming a successful author and finishing my occupational therapy assistant degree. I appreciate him for standing by my side through my anxieties and plethora of self-doubts while I’ve struggled to believe in myself and my abilities. And for this, I will love him forever and back again.

 Thanks Christine for being a guest author and sharing your life story of living with Laura. This segment reminds me of the importance of advocacy. While your mother was involved in being an advocate for Laura, you missed having one in your childhood. I’m glad Nate came into your life and was your champion and promoter. As independent as we all want to be, I believe we all need someone to encourage and back us up. You have shown us the difference an advocate can make in our lives. I’m so glad you found your prince.

In February, Christine Scott started sharing childhood segments of her life with her mentally disabled sister, Laura. It’s been inspiring to get a child’s perspective on her family’s caregiving journey and the trials they had to withstand. The first segment of Laura’s Story, recounts her birth and slow development. In Part 2, Christine recalls the impact of Laura’s seizures and in Part 3, details of Laura’s fight with cancer. Part 4, reveals how Christine, at age ten, learned about the accident which lead to her father’s death and Part 5, recognizes the community of angels who helped her family get through their darkest days. Part 6, illustrates the importance of building fun memories with our loved ones, which can ease the grief of losing them. Part 7, Christine remembers her mother’s extreme demands as a young widow caring for three children on her own with the oldest having mental and physical disabilities and the youngest an infant. Unfortunately, Christine, the middle child who didn’t require attention was sorely neglected and often responsible for taking care of her baby brother.

Laura’s Story, Part 3

ChristineMy name is Christine Scott. I’m a forty-six-year-old mother of five children and I grew up with a mentally disabled sister. In my first segment of Laura’s Story, I recounted her birth and slow development. In Laura’s Story, Part 2, I told about the impact of her seizures. Processing the memories and spending time reminiscing with my mother about my sister’s life is exactly what I needed—and my mom too.

Laura Piano

Laura 1973

Cancer is a six letter word no one wants to hear. It’s the fear on everyone’s mind when anything abnormal happens to a loved one’s health. And no one wants to hear the word cancer associated with their child.

At the age of seven, Laura had this reoccurring lump on the right side of her neck. Our family doctor thought it was a puss pocket inside the gland and whenever it became enlarged he’d treat it with antibiotics.

Laura’s whole life up until that point had been a series of illnesses, which included reoccurring strep throat. After about two years, the lump stopped responding to antibiotics and she never really got to a point where she felt good. Children usually have boundless energy, but she was often lethargic. Even after the lump stopped responding to antibiotics, our family doctor didn’t suspect the possibility of it being cancer although Laura’s health continued to decline.

Mom was tired of not getting answers and she took Laura to another doctor who was Dad’s friend. He diagnosed the lump as Hodgkin’s lymphoma, so she took Laura to LDS Hospital where she underwent her first surgery to have the lump removed. Biopsy of the lump was sent to five different hospitals to be tested; two diagnosed it as cancer.

It took six months from the time the lump stopped responding to antibiotics until a formal diagnosis was made. Luckily the cancer was only in stage two and very treatable.

Laura was admitted to Primary Children’s Hospital to have her spleen, appendix, and gallbladder removed in preparation for radiation treatments. The doctors chose to treat Laura with radiation because it was believed to be less invasive than chemotherapy.

Laura & Chris Christmas.jpg

Christmas- Laura & Christine

During this time I had become a wild thing. This seems very fitting considering Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak, is my all-time favorite children’s book, except my mom was too busy taking care of my sister to send me to bed without my super. I remember chewing up a carrot and spitting it all over the TV screen and then blaming it on Laura. Since she lacked the communication skills to deny the accusation, my mom believed me. I’m sure this blaming Laura for my foul deeds was a common occurrence.

We lived in a hundred-year-old house and behind it there was a wooded area where I would play for hours by myself or with the neighborhood kids. My imagination went wild. I caught snakes in the ditch and went on many adventures, which I’m sure would make good children’s stories if only I could remember them in detail.

Another memory which reflects my wildness is when Laura was in the hospital following her second surgery. I was left in the care of an elderly neighbor while my mom stayed by Laura’s side. At the end of her hospital stay, I remember being quite proud of the fact I’d managed to go a whole week without a bath.

Mom drove to Primary Children’s Hospital three times a week for six weeks for Laura’s radiation treatments. She would get me out of bed at some horrible hour, long before the rest of the world stirred. We’d drive the hour to Salt Lake. It’s funny how a child’s memory perceives things on a much grander scale. My recollection of this drive is of us winding through the mountains, which Mom told me was Memory Grove. At this time Primary Children’s Hospital was located in the avenues. I waited forever on hard chairs where I often fell asleep. We stopped at a convenience store and bought breakfast—pickled eggs—which I loved! Then my mom drove another hour to Ogden Weber so Laura could attend a few hours of school. After dropping her off, we drove twenty-five more minutes back to Morgan so I could go to school. I often arrived late for class.  Miss Compton, my first grade teacher, usually got upset with my mom for bringing me late. If she knew the circumstance surrounding my tardiness, I wonder if she would have been so quick to pass judgement on my mom.

Laura & Chris picnic.jpg

Oshkosh, Wisconsin at the EAA convention (Experimental Aircraft Association. The long silver trailer at the side of us held my dad’s ultralights (motorized hang gliders). Laura was still recovering from her radiation and too weak to walk around so we pushed her in the wheelchair.

Many, many months later Laura was pronounced cancer free. I can’t imagine how my mom survived those surgeries and the six weeks of radiation treatments. My dad’s hang gliding business had really taken off and he couldn’t take the time away from work to help her, so she did it all alone. Yesterday I asked her how she did it and she said, “You just have to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and take it one step at a time.” Then she smiled and added, “I’m made of good pioneer stock where the fittest survive.”

At that moment I realized how much I love her and appreciate all she sacrificed for our family.

Thank you, Christine, for sharing more of your sister’s story. I love seeing this caregiving journey through a child’s perspective. It helps me understand what my own children went through because so much of my time and energy went to caring for their dad. I realized to a degree how hard it was for them and felt concerned about it. It’s so difficult to juggle all the responsibilities. Your mother is blessed to have you and I’d be willing to bet you brought her sunshine on those dark days.

I look forward to your next segment.

 

Laura’s Story, part 2

Christine

Christine Scott

My name is Christine Scott. I’m a forty-six-year-old mother of five children and I grew up with a mentally disabled sister. In my first segment of Laura’s Story, I recounted her birth and slow development. Processing the memories and spending time reminiscing with my mother about my sister’s life is exactly what I needed—and my mom too.

In 1970 with only a few days left until Christmas,  my mom loaded Laura (three years old), and me (eighteen months) into the car and made the hour commute from Morgan to Salt Lake. Laura had been running a slight fever, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Ear infections and sicknesses had become a common occurrence. Once in Salt Lake, she left us in the care of my grandparents so she could go Christmas shopping with Aunt Jean—my mom’s younger sister.

Enjoying the anticipation of the holidays, my mom and Aunt Jean began their shopping trip. While inside their first store, my mom heard her name over the store’s intercom. Since this was during the time before cell phones, it’s easy to imagine the anxiety which must have overtaken her at that moment. She doesn’t remember exactly what the store’s employee said, but easily recalls the anxiety-filled trip to the hospital where Laura lay unconscious.

Laura young

Laura

This was Laura’s first seizure. She did not convulse, like one typically assumes happens during a seizure, but passed out and stayed unconscious for twenty minutes or more. At the hospital they administered phenobarbital, an anti-seizure medication and later antibiotics after diagnosing strep throat.

It’s hard for Mom to remember the timeline and the events which happened so many years ago and unfortunately she didn’t keep records. I remember as a child feeling very disappointed when we left the swimming pool or a playground early or didn’t get to go at all because certain activities seemed to induce seizures. This is when I began to figure out Laura was different from other children, which was beginning to make me different as well.

Laura swing

Laura & Christine

My mom took Laura to Primary Children’s Hospital for multiple evaluations. Laura most likely had started school during this process and was exhibiting some behavior problems. The doctors ran tests and put her on Ritalin. My assumption is that the Ritalin was introduced to help her in the classroom. Laura started having grand mal  seizures and mom directly blamed the progression of her seizures on the Ritalin.

Laura & Chris Easter

Christine & Laura in matching Easter dresses Mom made.

Life went on and Mom did her best to provide a good life for us while dealing with the challenges placed before her. Living in the small town of Morgan, Utah, the elementary school was not equipped to handle Laura’s disability. Since Laura couldn’t function in the classroom, she only attended school a few times a week for a couple of hours. Dissatisfied with the services Laura was receiving, my mom chose to drive twenty-five minutes to Ogden Weber, a special education school. This is where Mom finally began to receive the support she needed for my sister. She was hired on at the school as a teacher’s aide and joined a community of individuals who cared for children with disabilities. When I look back on this time, I remember the happiness and peace my mom experienced. With the money she earned she was able to buy a more dependable car and a dishwasher. When I recently asked her about the time she worked at Ogden Weber, she said, “I learned so much.” The people she worked with respected and treated her as an equal—which I believe made a huge difference in how she felt about herself.

Laura & Chris 2

Christine & Laura

Since Mom worked outside the home and had to leave early in the morning, my care fell to my dad. Luckily at this time I was a first grader and attended school all day. Dad owned his own business where he designed and built hang gliders. I left early with Dad and stayed at his shop until it was time to catch the bus. These were cold and lonely mornings for me. A wood stove made out of a half metal barrel heated his drafty work area. I stood so close to the stove to keep warm that it melted the fake fur which trimmed my coat, forming ugly burned clumps. Mom trimmed them off the best she could since we didn’t have enough money to buy a new coat.

Another memory I have of Dad’s workshop is when I had the measles. For two weeks I laid in a makeshift bed up in the loft of his shop while I recovered. I missed my warm home and my mother’s care. Looking back, this is when my detachment from my mother began, when I started making myself small in order for our family to survive.

Life goes on and we do our best to work through the challenges placed before us. Medication controlled Laura’s seizures and my mom continued to work at Ogden Weber. At Laura’s young age of nine a suspicious lump on the side of her neck stopped responding to antibiotics and was diagnosed as Hodgkin lymphoma. My quiet, stalwart Uncle Bob was diagnosed with cancer along with my cousin, Rick. After a commendable fight, Bob recovered and returned to work, but my cousin didn’t. He died of Hodgkin lymphoma.

Laura's family

Mom, Me, Dad, Laura & Grandparents

At the time, I was unaware of all the hardships my mom faced and my heart goes out to her as I think of the superhuman strength it took to face another new challenge. She had already overcome so much. I will always be thankful for the example she set as she showed me what it means to be strong in the face of adversity and to not give up no matter how hard life gets.

Thank you Christine for sharing your sister’s story. I appreciate getting a child’s perspective on the caregiving of a close sister and realizing how a healthy child could be overshadowed by the concerns of health and financial worries. It’s amazing  the variety of challenges Laura endured and reminds me that no person is an island. What happens to one affects every member of the family. I look forward to your next segment.

 

 

Joyce, an Angel in Our Home

Written by, Barbara Larson

First of all, I want to thank this wonderful website and those involved with it. It is inspirational and healing, for those of us who are or have been caregivers to those we love.

Barbara & Joyce 2My name is Barbara Larsen and I grew up with seven other siblings in a small home in Salt Lake City, Utah.  We didn’t have much but we were very happy. I shared my bedroom with 3 of my sisters. My sister, Joyce was the fifth child and two years older than I. She was born with Down Syndrome and her mentality only reached that of a 4-5 year old. She was very challenging for my parents, as I remember her tantrums and nothing would control them. She scratched herself and made herself bleed. She wasn’t potty trained until age nine along with many other complications.  There was never any complaining. My parents did get
frustrated, but the love shined so bright it would wipe away the frustration.

Joyce CupcakeI grew to love my special sister and I remember the day I told her I would always take care of her.  As my parents grew old it was hard for them to take care of Joyce and they worried about who would take of her when they passed away. I assured them I would take care of her, only remembering the good times, when her sweet personality made me laugh, and how much fun she was to be around. I thought about how great it would be to have her with me.  I pictured it like a Cinderella story.

Larson Family,Joyce & ParentsMy dad passed away in 2007 and a year later my mother needed extra care from a fall she had taken. Her leg would not heal, so she went to a care center and Joyce came to live with me, my husband, Leroy, and our six children age ranging from seven to eighteen. My sister was about fifty-three at the time, which is considered old for a Down Syndrome person.

It was wonderful for a year. Joyce would go everywhere with us and my kids would play with her. I taught music lessons and she loved listening to the music. Our boys were active in sports and she enjoyed going to the school sporting events and watching them play. Our girls were in choir and drama and Joyce was delighted to watch them participate in programs and plays. She was just part of the family and we loved it. There were challenges that first year, but we enjoyed having her with us.

Joyce ChristmasThe following year her seizures became more frequent and she needed 24 hour care. My Cinderella story wasn’t happening. This was the hardest thing I have ever done. I still had young kids at home, busy with school activities and I taught music lessons. How was I going to do this?  I remember the days I was frustrated, and would always think of my mom and dad and their example of patience and love, and it helped me through it. Also humor helped us get through the trying days. My children learned to love and serve her. They did things I would never have asked them to do. It was amazing how serving Joyce brought out the best in everyone.

I also turned to siblings who would give me breaks by taking her during the day and sometimes on weekends so I could just be a mom. I let half my music students go, which relieved some of the pressure, but Joyce didn’t want to eat anything. Everything made her sick. She had no control over her bladder and I was changing her quite often. She had seizures regularly, and I sometimes felt I couldn’t take it another day.

Well, that day did come when my youngest son had been in a serious boating accident at Lake Powell and had to be life flight to Primary Children’s Hospital which was 388 miles away. This caused him and me post-traumatic stress. I remember the day I lost it with my sister and yelled at her. She didn’t deserve it. It made me so sad I cried as I hugged her and said how sorry I was. I began to fall apart because of all the stress. Exhausted, I finally told myself I couldn’t handle everything any longer.

I will never forget the day I had to tell my angel sister good-bye as my sister in-law drove her to the care center. I felt like a failure. I thought, Why couldn’t I do it? My mom took care of her. What was wrong with me?  I cried many times about this.  I visited her often at the care center watching her slowly deteriorate was tough. My angel sister passed away about 1 ½ years later.  It has taken me a long time to look back and be okay with all that happened.

I want others to know that it is okay if you become frustrated, as long as it’s dealt with in a positive way. It’s okay to say “I can’t do this anymore.” Find outside help, because sometimes it is the best solution.  It’s okay, if it comes to a point you can no longer take care of your loved one in your home. Let the professionals do it. There came a time when I knew others could take better care of Joyce than I could. It was difficult to let her go, but we still loved and supported her at the care center even though it was hard to watch her slowly leave us.

Barbara & JoyceAfter all this, as I look back, I still feel her presence in our home. She blessed our lives so much and I would do it all again. The only things I would have changed are my expectations and the realization she wouldn’t be around much longer, so enjoy the time I had with her.

My husband and I, along with our six children have been changed for the better by having the opportunity to care for our Joyce.

In loving memory of Joyce Dibble.

Scan0028

Scan0027

 

 

 

 

 

Barbara,Leroy, Joyce & Mom

Thank you Barbara for sharing your touching story. I don’t believe Joyce, is the only angel in your home—you are also. She was so lucky to have so many people love and care for her. What a great example you are and a huge difference you made in Joyce’s life. You are an angel sister.