A Mars Bar A Day…

When I was a little girl, the highlight of any weekend was going to my paternal grandmother’s house. She had toys, parks nearby, a cat, a baseball bat and ball and a dining room table with enough chocolate to make even the largest chocolate store envious. Grandma had a deep love of sports, children, cats, chocolate and Wayne Gretzky. She often spent time playing “baseball” with my brother and I in front of her house. She would pitch to us and we would try as hard as we could to hit that little fuzzy green tennis ball with the small blue bat that she had gotten as a souvenir at a Blue Jays game. She also spent hours teaching inner city youth to bowl and running a youth bowling league of which my brother and I enjoyed bowling in each summer. I grew up in that bowling alley learning to bowl with my grandma and eating copious amounts of chocolate. Mars bars were her favourite – they’re mine too. I knew that grandma loved bowling, but it wasn’t apparent until I was a teenager that she was one of the best women bowlers in Canada until she was inducted into the Ontario 5-pin Bowling Association’s Hall of Fame. She was a very humble lady. Through her gentle guidance I learned how to bowl very well – a talent that I keep hidden until it emerges in social bowling events. Even to this day, my husband refuses to go 5-pin bowling with me ’cause he knows I will absolutely kick his arse – I can also hold my own in 10-pin bowling. It seems her bowling talent was passed onto me, along with her baseball skills. Yes, my grandma played softball well before it was cool for women to play sports – she was a pioneer that way. She was a catcher and I believe she even cut her own honeymoon short to play ball. I’m also a catcher, though no where near as talented as grandma.

As I grew older, grandma became less mobile. We bowled less, and played softball less. When she was well older than normal retirement age, she fell while walking home from working at the bowling alley, and broke her hip. She was a determined lady with a high threshold for pain, astounding her nurses at the hospital when she got up and walked the day following hip surgery. Though we were no longer able to bowl or play, I still loved to visit her with my dad, and we spent hours talking sports, local history and pouring through her scrapbooks and photos. I found her fascinating and an inspiration. She was a smart lady who had fast tracked through highschool – I think she graduated when she was 15!

One day I got a call from my mom – grandma was in the hospital – she had an emergency mastectomy to remove a tumor the size of a grapefruit from her breast. I cried the whole time I drove to the hospital. I literally ran into the hospital to see her. I was devastated – how could this happen? Grandma had a fear of doctors, and the high pain tolerance (that I’ve inherited). My Aunt Jan had taken her for her annual check up that day. The Dr asked if she had anything she wanted him to check out. She opened her blouse, revealing the hard to miss lump, and said; “You mean something like this?”.

With the mastectomy the initial “lump” was gone – but examinations revealed that cancer had entered her lymphatic system and it was everywhere. Grandma didn’t have long to live, but she gave it a good fight. I think one of the hardest things my husband has ever had to do was tell me that grandma had lost her fight. It was June 2001 and I had just gotten my first job offer in my chosen career – I was ecstatic! My husband (my boyfriend at that time) met me in the living room of our apartment with a sad look on his face. I asked why wasn’t he happy for me? He asked me to sit down because he had some news to tell me. I thought he was breaking up with me – but the news was WAY worse. Grandma had lost her battle with breast cancer that day. I was devastated and rushed over to my parents place to comfort my dad. He said grandma wouldn’t want us to be sad – she would want us to celebrate her life. We celebrated with Mars bars and handed out mini ones to everyone who attended her funeral. The funeral for an 89 yr old is typically a small family affair, but not my grandma’s. The funeral home was packed with people whose lives she had touched. People I hadn’t seen since I was a child, growing up at the bowling alley.

At the funeral I learned that my Aunt Jan had also been diagnosed with breast cancer. Thankfully she had caught it early and all she required was lumpectomy. She’s now a 7 yr survivor.

October is breast cancer awareness month. During this month I reflect on my grandmother’s life and reminisce about the good days we had, remembering the hours we spent watching baseball playoff games on her little TV. October also serves as a reminder to me to feel my boobies. My Aunt felt her boobies and her cancer was caught early enough.

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