February 7, 2023 – We hope everyone you know and love is healthy and happy, and you have no need for Feel Better designs. Here at Cardthartic, they’re top of mind for us because one of our staff members is headed to the doc today for what is likely strep throat, and another just had a “do it while you’re young” heart valve replacement surgery last week. That was successful — yay! — and while very grateful for the good care he’s received, he is now more than ready to move out from under the intense scrutiny of ICU.
It was my good friend and neighbor Pamela who inspired the card above when one day she forewarned in her always-charming Brit accent that a new med “is making me rather moody, darling.” You can read more in her Cardie Profile, but let me here describe Contributing Cardie Pamela Salem-O’Hagan to you today as a semi-retired English actress (think younger, thinner, prettier Judi Dench). She played with Sean Connery in The First Great Train Robbery, and again in Never Say Never Again, in which she was Miss Moneypenny to his James Bond. A true showman, Pamela never ceases to amaze us with her ability to continue to be her beautiful, vibrant, indomitable self in spite of progressive Parkinson’s disease.
I remember the day she called me on her way home from a doctor’s appointment where they’d discussed what to do about the small tumors in her tummy. “I want to share some great, great news!” she’d said, then went on to explain that she’d been told she had a very rare form of cancer for which there is no cure. Eek! That of course begged my question,“But, Pam, how can you view this as good news and sound so delighted???”
She didn’t skip a beat in saying, “It’s good news in that they’ve assigned a team of world-class specialists to try all kinds of experimental treatments on me. Poor things, they were so kind and it was clearly hard for them to have to tell me that the treatments would likely be of no use to me, and then go on to explain that the drugs and chemo and radiation and whatever else they can throw at this will not be at all pleasant either. But I told them not to worry … I assured them it was an honor and a privilege to be their guinea pig and, hopefully, what they learn from treating me will help them beat it in someone else down the line.” She laughed, “I finally had to put the discussion to rest by telling them the Parkinson’s is surely going to kill me long before these blasted tummy tumors anyway!”
Positively dumbfounded, was I. How in the world could she have such a relentlessly positive attitude in the face of all that she’d just learned and had been going through?
On she went into chemo, and one Saturday morning I called her to ask what I might do or bring to support her in any way. (I knew she no longer had the appetite for my weekly delivery of her favorite homemade Snickerdoodles, and I’d already been given the pleasure of procuring her hot pink pageboy wig after her head was shaved.) So that Saturday she asked, “Have you any watermelon? It does seem to help keep my mouth somewhat moist.”
I delivered my container of chunks, we talked for a bit and, as I started to turn toward home, I remembered I’d brought this card along. I’d chosen it because she always has a houseguest from somewhere in this big world, and there are so many would-be helpers hanging around that I dubbed her house Grand Central Pamela.
She was standing at her back gate with rosy bougainvillea at her back when I handed the card to her and, as soon as she’d read it, tears began to flow. “Hovering!” she said. “Yes, that’s quite right. So many good people have been hovering and I do feel so loved and cared-for.” I sighed and said, “Only you, Pam, would be crying not in frustration, or about the pain and discomfort, or losing your crowning glory, or the lousy odds, or what the future holds,” and she jumped in, “Oh no! I’m crying because people truly are so kind, and I feel so blessed to be surrounded by so many of them.”
Pamela’s beloved sister Gillie, the great poet and puppeteer, is in from London this week. I’ll join them for tea and hugs and, because they’re both amazing storytellers, lots of laughter, and we may take a walk by the sea. Once a star, always a star, and Pamela’s show goes on.
Jodee Stevens
Founder & Chief Creative
February 7, 2023 – We hope everyone you know and love is healthy and happy, and you have no need for Feel Better designs. Here at Cardthartic, they’re top of mind for us because one of our staff members is headed to the doc today for what is likely strep throat, and another just had a “do it while you’re young” heart valve replacement surgery last week. That was successful — yay! — and while very grateful for the good care he’s received, he is now more than ready to move out from under the intense scrutiny of ICU.
It was my good friend and neighbor Pamela who inspired the card above when one day she forewarned in her always-charming Brit accent that a new med “is making me rather moody, darling.” You can read more in her Cardie Profile, but let me here describe Contributing Cardie Pamela Salem-O’Hagan to you today as a semi-retired English actress (think younger, thinner, prettier Judi Dench). She played with Sean Connery in The First Great Train Robbery, and again in Never Say Never Again, in which she was Miss Moneypenny to his James Bond. A true showman, Pamela never ceases to amaze us with her ability to continue to be her beautiful, vibrant, indomitable self in spite of progressive Parkinson’s disease.
I remember the day she called me on her way home from a doctor’s appointment where they’d discussed what to do about the small tumors in her tummy. “I want to share some great, great news!” she’d said, then went on to explain that she’d been told she had a very rare form of cancer for which there is no cure. Eek! That of course begged my question,“But, Pam, how can you view this as good news and sound so delighted???”
She didn’t skip a beat in saying, “It’s good news in that they’ve assigned a team of world-class specialists to try all kinds of experimental treatments on me. Poor things, they were so kind and it was clearly hard for them to have to tell me that the treatments would likely be of no use to me, and then go on to explain that the drugs and chemo and radiation and whatever else they can throw at this will not be at all pleasant either. But I told them not to worry … I assured them it was an honor and a privilege to be their guinea pig and, hopefully, what they learn from treating me will help them beat it in someone else down the line.” She laughed, “I finally had to put the discussion to rest by telling them the Parkinson’s is surely going to kill me long before these blasted tummy tumors anyway!”
Positively dumbfounded, was I. How in the world could she have such a relentlessly positive attitude in the face of all that she’d just learned and had been going through?
On she went into chemo, and one Saturday morning I called her to ask what I might do or bring to support her in any way. (I knew she no longer had the appetite for my weekly delivery of her favorite homemade Snickerdoodles, and I’d already been given the pleasure of procuring her hot pink pageboy wig after her head was shaved.) So that Saturday she asked, “Have you any watermelon? It does seem to help keep my mouth somewhat moist.”
I delivered my container of chunks, we talked for a bit and, as I started to turn toward home, I remembered I’d brought this card along. I’d chosen it because she always has a houseguest from somewhere in this big world, and there are so many would-be helpers hanging around that I dubbed her house Grand Central Pamela.
She was standing at her back gate with rosy bougainvillea at her back when I handed the card to her and, as soon as she’d read it, tears began to flow. “Hovering!” she said. “Yes, that’s quite right. So many good people have been hovering and I do feel so loved and cared-for.” I sighed and said, “Only you, Pam, would be crying not in frustration, or about the pain and discomfort, or losing your crowning glory, or the lousy odds, or what the future holds,” and she jumped in, “Oh no! I’m crying because people truly are so kind, and I feel so blessed to be surrounded by so many of them.”
Pamela’s beloved sister Gillie, the great poet and puppeteer, is in from London this week. I’ll join them for tea and hugs and, because they’re both amazing storytellers, lots of laughter, and we may take a walk by the sea. Once a star, always a star, and Pamela’s show goes on.
Jodee Stevens
Founder & Chief Creative
Jodee — I love this so much and thank you for sharing. I confess to “hovering” a lot lately over dear fiends. Hovering is good especially when “thoughts and prayers” just don’t seem to be enough. Hovering is what we do when we love someone and have no other way of showing it. Blessings to Pamela and if I were there I would give her some “hovering” too.
Pamela and Jodee, What a remarkable friendship you have! Thank you for reminding us that there are such brave people willing to put themselves “through the ringer” to advance the science. Pamela, you are selfless beyond measure and if there comes a time when the burden seems too much, please know we are appreciative of all you have done but would want you to be safe and comfortable on this journey too. Hovering in awe from a distance-
I am deeply moved by this CNews. To see the beauty, hope, and purpose, even in the midst of where others would only see despair (or at least reason for complaint or pity), is extraordinary. Thank you for sharing about Pamela. And Pamela, thank you for living a life that exhibits courage and deep love. I’m grateful you have a community of people who are committed to hovering in your life. I have no doubt that they are at least equally blessed by your presence as you are by theirs. Grace to you.
Dear Jodee,
Thank you, as usual, for eliciting major waterworks… a good cry is always pretty “Cardthartic”!!!
Your story of your dear pal Pamela is inspirational for sure ~ we can all learn a valuable
lesson….even if we are a bunch of old biddies!!!
xoxo
Babs
To hear that you have cancer but instead of being consumed by self pity, your dear friend Pamela rejoiced that she will be part of a research project to help others down the line. That is an inspirational & selfless act. I applaud Pamela & join in hovering around her on this tough journey. We surround you with Cardie strength.
For the years I was their neighbor I was lucky to become friends with beautiful-in-every-way Pamela & her charming husband. They would hold off Christmas dinner until I arrived back on Christmas day from visiting family in NJ. The true spirit of the holiday filled their home. There are so many ways Pamela defines what it is to be resilient, selfless & giving to all who have the true gift of her friendship. Pamela is loved by so many because she shows us how to love.
Hi Pamela,
When we visited Jodee a few years ago, she had a dinner outside and several of her friends were there including you. You were so gracious and fun. Just the kind of person I like to meet. Recently I knew you were going through a lot but I didn’t know everything until this newsletter. Oh my gosh,
what an amazing person you are. Your story is so inspiring and I’m sure everyone who reads it will be a better person because of Jodee sharing it with us. (Thanks Jodee!)
I hope to face any trials like you and you can bet I’ll be thinking of you when I try to do it.
Enjoy your sister’s visit and I’ll bet there will be tons of love flying around in your home while she’s there.
May you feel all the love coming your way.
Nancy
Dear Jodee and my lovely Cardie friends,,,,,,,,,I was overwhelmed by what you wrote. It brought me to tears. It was completely undeserved but received with gratitude. All of you have your own battles and I can only pray you are surrounded by as many Guardian Angels as God has sent me. Blessings and thanks to you all. Pamela.