Kaye Gilliam back at work as
an assistant vice president of Carroll Bank and Trust in
McKenzie.
Kaye Gilliam of Trezevant knows what too many have learned
first hand when told by their doctors, "You have cancer."
"Your first thought is, 'I'm going to die--I'm fixing to
die!'" she relates, "and right now--not in six months."
But Kaye is the picture of health these days. Where she once
wore a wig to camouflage her hair loss from radiation, her
tresses are as lustrous as platinum. Even better is her
smile, made brighter by a deepened appreciation for life and
the knowledge of her great wealth: the incomparable richness
of relationships.
Having had some suspicious mammograms, Kaye was
conscientious about performing self-exams. She found a lump
in mid-December 2002 and returned to her surgeon's office on
New Year's Eve to receive the results of the subsequent
biopsy.
"It was 10 in the morning, I won't ever forget it," she
says. "It knocks the breath out of you."
The doctor said she had metaplastic carcinoma, a rare type
of breast cancer, and recommended mastectomy, the removal of
her breast.
"James was squalling by that time," she said regarding her
husband, with whom she will have been married 38 years on
their March 17 anniversary. Their family had grown to
include their son, Jimmy, daughter-in-law Denise and
grandchildren, Celina, now in the seventh grade, and third
grader Zachary.
Kaye previously thought she had accomplished most of her
goals in life: her son was grown with a family of his own.
James worked for the USDA as a civil engineer technician and
inspector and Kaye was a vice president at Carroll Bank and
Trust in McKenzie. Her foundations were shaken as she
realized all the reasons she still had to live.
"You go through stages of acceptance," she says. "You feel
cheated. I wanted to go home and go to bed and pretend I'd
never heard any of it."
One thing she was not ready to accept was surgery.
"Is surgery going to solve my problem?" she asked the
doctor. He responded that she would also have to undergo
chemotherapy and radiation. His next words caught her
unprepared: "Hon, we're all going to die."
Kaye's reaction was internal: "Well, I beg your pardon," she
determined. "I don't want to die right now."
"I wanted to live for my husband, my son and family," she
explains. "Also, my mother was in McKenzie Health Care, with
Alzheimer's, and I'm an only child. I was worrying what
would happen to her."
The rest of the week was spent in a state of shock, Kaye
shares: "We couldn't talk about it hardly without crying."
Back home, she listened to varying viewpoints about where
her best options lay for optimum care. Women whom she had
never known had breast cancer called to offer their support.
On Monday, James placed a call that ultimately determined
Kaye would be re-assessed by Dr. Mark Kelley, a surgical
oncologist at the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Care Center in
Nashville, who was researching the type of cancer with which
Kaye had been afflicted.
Two days later, she met with Dr. Kelley at his Nashville
office.
"When I walked in it was such a relief; I can't explain the
feeling that came over me," she says. "I felt so much better
after I met with my doctors, everyone was super. I think
that God placed me at Vanderbilt."
Dr. Kelley and Kaye were like-minded concerning the
avoidance of radical surgery, except as a last resort.
"Don't put yourself through this if you don't have to," he
counseled, recommending that chemotherapy and radiation be
tried first if the cancer had not spread to her lymph
glands.
"It really upset him when we had to in the end," Kaye says,
revealing the later sequence of events, "but, at this stage,
I couldn't accept surgery until everything else had been
tried."
Dr. Kelley referred Kaye to another Vanderbilt physician,
medical oncologist Dr. David Johnson, who, she says,
"everyone (at home) had been referring me to." Johnson was
also researching metaplastic carcinoma.
He repeated the biopsy and determined the cancer had not
spread to the lymph nodes. Kaye's six-month trial of
chemotherapy began in January 2003, followed by 36 radiation
treatments taken at the Henry County Medical Center under
the direction of radiation oncologist Dr. Anastasios
Georgiou.
It was also in January 2003 when James and Kaye were stuck
on Interstate 40 during an in ice storm--for 12 hours in one
spot-while trying to reach Vanderbilt.
"We finally got to Dickson and slept for three hours. James
said we got re-acquainted and we really did!" she laughs.
While the chemotherapy made her physically ill, the
radiation treatments wreaked havoc with her self-esteem as
she lost her hair.
James and Kaye before her ordeal with cancer. |
"A woman's hair is her glory," Kaye shares, referring to
the Biblical verses of I Corinthians.
During her trials and tribulations, she says from an office
at the bank, gesturing toward her co-workers, "I was
definitely not without support. All these girls--when I came
home and felt like an old slug lying on the couch--they'd
cook and bring food. That was their main thing when I was
taking chemo. They made sure every day that I ate or drank
something nutritious."
She explains she's the "maw maw" of the office, a name first
given her by her grandchildren.
James would take her out often to eat steak in order to keep
her blood count up. Her neighbors and Sunday school class
also cooked for her family.
"James enjoyed that," she smiles.
When the day finally arrived for her last chemotherapy
treatment, the portacath inserted to facilitate the
treatments failed.
"Just give it to me in my arm," Kaye insisted, "Because this
is my last time and, when I leave here, I'm going to have
this finished."
After going through chemotherapy, she thought radiation was
"a piece of cake."
"It did make me extremely tired," she says. "But the girls
up there at the center were super."
Although she was warned during her first radiation treatment
that in about two weeks her hair would begin to fall out in
clumps, she convinced herself, "It won't happen like that."
Nonetheless, she wasted no time in shopping for a wig that
matched her color and style. Two weeks later, on Sunday, she
was getting ready for church when she noticed a slight tug
was all that was needed to pull out tufts of hair. James,
responding to her cries of distress, helped her prepare for
her first day's wearing of the wig.
After that, she would wear the wig to work and replace it at
home with a cap.
There were two occasions, however, when she said, "It was
laugh or cry" when the wig flew off to expose her hairless
pate. During McKenzie's 2003 Christmas parade, Kaye and
James, then mayor of Trezevant, were riding in a carriage
with McLemoresville mayor and wife, Phil and Irene Williams.
Kaye had pinned a Santa Claus hat to her wig, which, with
the added weight, tended to slip as she threw candy to the
crowd.
"Right in front of the judge's stand," she recalls, "I threw
a piece of candy and the hat and wig fell off into the
floor." James snatched it up and placed it back on her head.
"All that crowd," she says, chagrined. "Right there in front
of all those kids."
The other was during a lunchtime jaunt to the Dairy Queen
when, while easing down the icy ramp, her feet flew out from
under her as her wig flew off and landed in a puddle of
water.
"Where's my hair?" she cried to co-worker Katie Foster. "I
shook it out and put it back on," she chuckles, her eyes
still reflecting the mixed emotions of the mishaps. "Might
as well laugh as to cry."
Kaye spends the day with her son, Jimmy, daughter-in-law
Denise and grandchildren, Celina and Zachary.
When she went to Paris for her final radiation treatment,
Dr. Georgiou thought she was doing "just great."
"You're done," Kaye recalls him saying. "I don't ever expect
to see you again except in the mall."
A trip to Nashville, however, turned ominous when, following
tests, Kaye and James' wait seemed interminable.
"When Dr. Kelley finally came in and sat down, he was almost
in tears," Kaye says. "It was still there, or there were
still signs of it. I had to have a mastectomy. But then I
was fine with it; after I'd had chemo and radiation, I knew
that I would have to accept it because the cancer was still
there."
The day before her surgery, in September 2003, she visited
her mother and let her know she would be traveling to
Nashville the following day for surgery.
"That was one of the hardest trips I ever made," she says.
The next day, as she began her recovery, James waited until
evening, after other loved ones had left, before breaking
the news to Kaye that her mother was at the point of death.
During the week Kaye remained in the hospital, other family
members stayed at the local hospital with her mother.
When the couple returned home, Kaye's mother clung to life
while she and James dealt with severe fluid retention caused
by her skin's refusal to bond to her body, owing to the
radiation treatments. For two months, the couple drove to
Vanderbilt an average of twice a week to remove Kay's
drainage tube. Sometimes, Denise would be the one to make
the trip with Kaye.
"Within two days I would retain fluid again and have to go
back and have the tube reinserted," Kaye says.
Finally, Dr. Kelley advised he wanted to try injecting a
special glue into the space between Kaye's skin and the wall
of her chest, after which he would press her skin in place.
If it didn't work, more surgery would be needed.
Kay says she felt a sensation of warmth as the glue was
injected. "Thank God it worked," she adds.
She had returned to work, with a drainage tube in her side,
a week before her mother died on Thanksgiving Day, November
24, 2003.
As she continued to heal, unable to drive, neighbors and
friends drove her to where she needed to go.
"This bunch is awesome," she says. "I didn't lack support, I
can tell you. We were well taken care of. After surgery,
Carroll Bank employees brought supper to my family every
night for two weeks. It was just awesome; my family,
neighbors, co-workers, customers, the church--everybody's
churches--were wonderful. The little surprises, the phone
calls, the cards, the love... I told them, 'The best gift
you can give me is to pray for me.'"
After six months of chemotherapy, 36 radiation treatments
and seven surgeries, including biopsies, portacaths,
removing lymph nodes, and her mastectomy, Kaye now travels
to Vanderbilt every three months to see doctors Kelley and
Johnson on a rotating basis.
She credits her recovery to the superb support and prayers
of her Carroll Bank and Trust friends and neighbors, her
family, Sunday School class, First Baptist Church, Bethel
Baptist Church, and being on the prayer lists of all
churches, as well to her "support group": Gail Robb, who is
a representative for the American Cancer Society, Willie Mae
Anderson, Marilyn Bobo, June Brummitt, Ruth Brasfield,
Beverly Ellis and Ann Drewry.
Concerning James, she says, "He's a super husband, I
wouldn't trade him for anybody."
She does, however, admit to calling him in March 2004, while
he was working in East Tennessee, to advise him there was a
new man in her life: Spanky, a long-haired dachshund who has
become a part of the family.
Concerning her apparent strength and courage in the face of
adversity, she says, "This is not my nature; I'm not a
strong person, I'm a very weak person. But," she quotes
Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ who
strengthens me. I thank God every day for letting me enjoy
my life a little longer--I'm truly blessed!"
Kaye said she now takes life a day at a time, aware that
tomorrow is not promised.
"It makes you more aware of everything around you when
something happens like this," she says, citing a heightened
awareness in which the skies appear bluer, flowers prettier;
a greater appreciation of life.
"Enjoy each day!" she advises in earnest. "Tell the people
around you how much you love them and how much they mean to
you. Never miss an opportunity; it might be your last. Try
to encourage or help someone every day."
Buttressed by what she calls a "team effort in the game of
life", Kaye has since joined a new team as one of two
honorary co-chairs for North Carroll County Relay for Life.
Her friend, Beverly Ellis, is the second honorary co-chair.
Relay for Life is an area-wide, community celebration of
those who have survived cancer and a memorial for those who
have died, survivors for a time. It's a time of fun, food,
entertainment and fellowship in a carnival atmosphere,
combined with a continuous relay of team members and others
walking laps in recognition of the never-ending battle
fought by those stricken with cancer. It's a life-changing
experience as well as an eye-opener, for during the
survivors' lap, as an amazing number of local cancer
survivors take their places in preparation for the first lap
of the evening, the truth dawns that cancer affects
everyone, and the importance of raising funds for research
to end the many faces of cancer takes center-stage.
Don't miss this year's main event, scheduled to be held
Friday, June 3, at McKenzie's City Park. For more
information, call Kay Wood at 731-352-3215 or American
Cancer Society Representative Christy Futrell at
731-512-5011.
