Читать книгу Through These Eyes - Lauren Ann Isaacson - Страница 3

THROUGH THESE EYES, written by Lauren A. Isaacson (10 Dec 1961 - 16 Jul 1986), is rare in several respects. At the age of twelve, she was diagnosed as having cancer of the stomach; leiomyosarcoma is a cancer prevalent in older women. She was accepted at the Mayo Clinic for research, and after a five year period was given a clean bill of health. During her sixth year following chemotherapy, she was diagnosed as suffering from the same cancer; it had invaded the liver.

Lauren decided to write her life story. Her treatment of elementary school days, junior high, her year of chemo and her home tutor, her return to ninth grade wearing her wig, the first day she went without that wig, high school experiences, her modeling contract, the way she coped with her impending death, the continuing of her college education until she could no longer physically endure, the trauma of seeing her 32 year old brother die; all relate an aura, a searching for quality in each given day.

Her thoughts on acceptance, awareness, anger, guilt, her views of an omnipotent being, God; her ability to write poetry as she viewed and photographed life around her; the maturity and depth of her writings bring with them humor as well as pathos. She was concerned about those who loved her and those who medically assisted her. It was her hope to help others facing adversity, or who have loved ones suffering the direct trauma. Her journal was her companion as she coped with life. It brought her peace and acceptance; she would hope it could do the same for others.

Much of her manuscript is complete; it was necessary for her to outline journal entries she wished copied. I, her mother, have completed those listings and have related her final two and one half days at Hospice.

Journal entry June 29, 1986 … The night is loud with thunder; the deep, sharp rumbling that shakes the house as if to remind the world that it is alive. It is not subtle, but in its brazen clap, I can find reason to rejoice; I live in the shadows of a wondrous and beautiful world, yet thunder is one element of nature from which I have not been excluded, for it penetrates walls.

Lauren's exclusion began after Christmas, 1985. She was confined to her hide-a-way in the upstairs of her home until Hospice on 14 of July, and died 16 July, 1986.

Respectfully submitted,

Muriel K. Isaacson (Mother)

Dedicated to …

those who came with culinary delights who shared of their time making crafts and visiting who brought lovely plants, curios and books who shared roses from their garden who, through Laurie's five year illness, remembered her often with cards and gifts of money and especially those who lifted her name and her family in supportive love and prayer.

Journal Quotes

"Carrying a secret would have been like transporting a dandelion seed head on a windy day."

"Cancer. One word, and yet it made such a difference; it was almost mathematical; just as surely as positive and negative numbers, multiplied, equaled a negative response, certainty coupled with uncertainty yielded uncertainty."

"Cancer knew no barrier and bore no prejudice; cancer took the weak, the strong, the indifferent, the proud, the cheerful, the embittered; it took all, greedily in an unquenchable hunger."

"Only acceptance can wash away the flames born of despair."

"The more the mind grows the more humble its 'master' becomes, for he realizes that knowledge is infinity and infinity cannot be encapsulated in the human brain."

Excerpt from Diary

June 22, 1984

… In a relationship, truth can often times hurt. So, I am faced with the problem of whether to tell the truth or speak nothing. I would never choose to jeopardize a relationship, yet if that relationship is full of deception, or other undesirable attributes, and undiscerned by the other, is it noble to hold one's peace? For to bespeak truths could lead to ruinous separation … yet, a one-sided relationship is of no account.

If I could but harness the energy begotten of my anger towards self-obsessive persons, I could heat the house for a month. Perhaps, with time, I shall be able to transfer that energy toward the thinking of constructive thoughts. Anger cannot be felt without sustaining internal damage; a raging emotional fire surely must char the mind.

Prologue