In Loving Memory Of Jo
The following story is written by my uncle, Morris Robinson. It is an account of his wife’s life and her amazing courage and personal strength.
She battled many diseases and medical hardships throughout most of her adult life and met them head-on with courage and faith in God. She is, quite simply, an inspiration.It was after she was gone that I became acutely aware of the positive influence she had on others and how many lives were affected by her spiritual strength and gracious attitude. Jo was not physically strong and continually fought various medical problems. What a wonderful legacy it would be if by telling her story others might receive courage to better face their struggles.
In a small East Texas town, in late 1938, Jo arrived to face a world that seemed quite dim. Economic woes and an impending conflict paled any rays of brightness. Jo's parents were honest hardworking farmers. Routinely, they borrowed money to make a crop and sustain them until harvest time. She had an older brother and a sister would come nine years later. Her clothes were homemade and lovingly adequate.
Jo's early years were blessed with good health, marred only by the normal childhood maladies. She was a good student and played a trumpet in the high school band.
My family has roots in the same town and I visited often. Jo was seventeen and I was twenty when we met. It may sound like a Sandra Dee and Bobby Darin movie, but we really did meet in the local drug store while sipping cherry cokes. I worked for Gulf Oil Co. in Houston, which was three hours away. Our courtship was brief and we married six months later. We lived in Houston in a small apartment that was passable for the times. Soon we were able to move into a rent house in the Heights area of Houston.
About a year after we married, we received a harbinger of the terrible fight Jo was to wage in future years. While in high school, she had observed how cold and white her fingers were when exposed to any cold. This had now become worse and required attention. Consultations with doctors confirmed she had Raynaud's Disease. Sympathectomy surgery was performed and was not successful. The idea was to clip a nerve in the lower neck. This was to help circulation, but in the process a lung was collapsed. This presaged the battle to come in dealing with her lung problems.
In 1958, I entered military service. While serving in Korea, I became dreadfully ill with Polio. My rehab was at Brooke Army Hospital in San Antonio. Jo moved to the guest house at Fort Sam Houston and took an insurance job in downtown San Antonio. In this setting, first surfaced the mettle she possessed. Nineteen years old, in a strange city and a husband seriously ill without good prospects. She bravely met the challenges. She was encouraged by friends at church, but mainly fended for herself. The depth of her resolve and faith was only in the formative stages, but they carried her through.
My rehab was over and I would always use braces, crutches and/or else a wheelchair or electric scooter. While I am generally independent, this was a circumstance that added to Jo's hardships. We moved back to Houston for a brief period and in the summer of 1959 moved back to the hometown. She had obtained her cosmetology license and opened a beauty salon. I had my insurance agents license and tried to sell insurance. Jo's health was reasonably good at this time except periodic problems with her lungs partially collapsing. We made a major decision in January 1961 moving back to Houston. I worked for a major insurance company.
Our son, Brett, was born in 1964. While we were elated with our new addition, new health issues would arise and never entirely leave. Bearing a child had created serious problems with her lungs. Blisters formed, severely collapsing both lungs. She went back to the military hospital in San Antonio. The doctors did extensive work and some of the procedures were invasive and very painful.
While Jo was recovering, my sister-in-law, Joyce, helped by going with me to visit her. We took our six month old son. It was necessary for Joyce to carry him as I could not. Jo was barely able to walk, but she carried the baby. I'm sure the pain was intense, but her joy overshadowed the pain. It was during this trip that a strange scene occurred. What a sight it must have been. I'm walking with braces and crutches and Joyce is carrying the baby. No big deal one might say. The funny part is Joyce was seven months pregnant. I wonder what people thought?
Some sense of recovery was jolted a year later when the same problems arose and necessitated major surgery. Her ribs were straightened and her lungs were scraped. This produced scar tissue which would prevent any future blisters. The procedure was successful, but carried a legacy of always trying to avoid smoke or anything that would bother her lungs.
During this time we first heard of scleroderma and Jo was informed she was a victim. It is a disease of the immune system. It can involve skin silicosis and/or the internal organs. The cause is not known. It is a pervasive disease that would attack, retreat and attack again. It is mobile and you can never know where it will next appear. Jo was constantly bothered by skin ulcers and sores due to the poor circulation that is part of this monster. This was the case until her death. Seldom did she enjoy any protracted period where infections were not present. Her spirits were almost always high and most people never knew the many times she was badly hurting. At all times, Jo kept a positive attitude. This was enhanced by her faith in God and knowing that He cared.
Our son was almost four and we wanted another child. Another maternity was not in Jo's best interest. We arranged a private adoption with the help of a doctor and attorney. It was the spring of 1968 and we were at the Hemis-Fair in San Antonio when our daughter, Cheryl, was born. We were advised of this when we arrived home that night.
In 1971, a job transfer moved us to California with stints in Santa Ana and San Diego. One day in early 1973, Jo called me at work and told me "this child is driving me crazy, we have got to have another child or get a pet." I quickly replied that I would meet her at the SPCA.
The next eight years were about as free from serious medical problems as we had. Of course, there was the continuing skin ulcers, most of which were in the hands. I accepted a promotion and we moved back to Houston in the summer of 1973.
Jo became a very proficient porcelain artist and soon began teaching some in our home. Aside from a hysterectomy in 1974, things were fairly normal until the early eighties when Jo developed Rheumatoid Arthritis to partner up with the Scleroderma. In 1983, this duo began another assault. We tried several doctors and various drug combinations to no avail. By December, Jo could barely dress herself and her pain was terrible. Her pain tolerance was always amazing to me. This was the only time I ever heard her comment "why me?" Also, it was the only time in all her battles that Jo ever said "I wish I could just die."
At this time, we were fortunate to find Dr. Joseph Spindler, an excellent Rheumatologist. He began Jo on proper medicines and improvement was slow but effective. She was still bothered by the skin ulcers, but she had improved to a point of being functional. In order to try to improve elasticity in the skin and reduce infections, Dr Spindler began a procedure called "plasmapheresis". There are long descriptions of this but basically it involves separating blood cells and installing new plasma. A type of kidney dialysis machine was used. This was done a total of fifty times over a nine month period. The procedures were somewhat effective, but were stopped as they did not progress as much as desired. Also, about that time, fear permeated the world with the arrival of AIDS. No chances were to be taken. Through the ensuing years, Dr Spindler provided wonderful care for Jo that kept her as operational as possible, considering the overall problems she had.
Jo's dad passed away in 1986. Her mother had Parkinson's Disease and other dementia. We took her into our home and Jo tended to her until December 1992. It was then that Jo's problems took a different but significant turn. She slipped on a wet tile floor and broke her left hip. Caring for her mother was no longer feasible. Fortunately, the scleroderma was in an dormant mode at the time. In 1995, Jo fell again and broke her right hip. She had been having problems with her right knee, so surgery was done on the knee and hip at the same time. Rehab was quite difficult, but she was able to handle it. For Jo's benefit, it should be observed that these falls were accidental and not due to any inherent reason.
In August 1997, I retired and we looked for a time of travel and leisure. Such was not to be. In November, Jo had emergency heart surgery with a triple bypass. The surgery was successful but prompted two situations that in effect marked the beginning of the end. The cold of the operating room caused her poor circulation to act up and the result was formation of gangrene in her right hand. After six months of excruciating pain, the hand was removed just above the wrist. The other result of the surgery was the loss of her short term memory. Jo was always an excellent wife, mother and homemaker. From this time, Jo ceased to function as a homemaker.
Regularly, Jo had trouble with her right hip coming out. In fact, one day it came out twice. Dr. Scot Frost was her Orthopedic and helped Jo a lot. He was hampered in Jo's case due to her fragility providing no bulk to work with. Another surgery was done and Dr. Frost had a new and different type of hip and procedure that he guaranteed the hip could not come out and it never did. From the time of the heart surgery, the next fifteen months would see Jo in the hospital eight different times.
One of the hospital stays occurred with receipt of another unwanted affliction, She had developed a serious diabetes problem and her pancreas ruptured necessitating emergency surgery. Henceforth, she would take insulin. As with everything else she approached this as just one more thing to deal with. A recap of a conversation with a friend reflects the tenacity of her resolve. The friend with some serious problems of her own asked Jo "how do you keep coming back and maintain such a positive outlook?" Jo's reply is classic and should encourage any who are suffering. She said "I believe God will not allow more to be put on me than I can bear. What you have to do is get tough, then get tougher, then get downright mean." This attitude was typical of her deep spiritual faith and hope that characterized her life. An Alaskan cruise in the summer of 2000 with friends provided some diversion and enjoyment. Jo had to be pushed everywhere in a wheelchair. With all the artificial bones, Scleroderma, Rheumatoid Arthritis, diabetes, the loss of a hand and her short term memory loss, quality of life deteriorated fast. We now had granddaughters eight and three and a brand new grandson. Jo loved them dearly and often expressed she wanted to see them become young adults. But, I think she knew it was not to be.
By the spring of 2001, scleroderma was producing infections constantly. Circulation was seriously blocked in her legs and an infection in her right foot took hold. Surgery on April 1 removed the blockage in her left leg. The blood vessels in the right leg were too constricted and a bypass could not be done. One positive result of the surgery was the return of Jo's short term memory. It could have been the anascetic or the blockage removal. Signs of gangrene began to appear in the right foot. Oral antibiotics were having no effect. On June 26th we went to the doctor. It was obvious she was to be admitted to the hospital. It proved to be her last day at home.
For the better part of three months Jo would be in hospitals. After two weeks she was moved from a primary care facility to a continuing care hospital. A consequence of the hospital stay was the emergence of a most amazing, wonderful and touching circumstance. From the first day, June 26th, until September 22nd at least one and sometimes more ladies were staying and aiding Jo. These ladies were from the local church and some from other congregations. Sixty six different ladies contributed love, prayer and encouragement a total of 1,571 hours. This was of monumental assistance to our family. Yolanda Lopez lovingly and with great care coordinated this effort. Jo, true to her sensitivity, despite her pain was always concerned that the ladies were sacrificing too much and depriving their families. Brett and Cheryl were spending as much time as they could with their mother. I was there almost every day, but the extensive help allowed me to go home in the evenings.
In spite of constant intravenous antibiotics, the gangrene grew worse. Some sort of amputation was realized, but Jo refused to accept it. My view is she resisted as she recalled the debilitating effect of losing her hand. Jo had no appetite and her weight dropped fast. She refused a feeding tube at first. I think she thought she would have to have it for a protracted period of time. For a while, we did not realize this, however, Cheryl scoped this out and we were able to proceed with a successful procedure. Jo's refusal was based on remembrance of her mothers situation. She had lived via a feeding tube for many years. Jo did not want this.
The delay in using the tube was not critical to the final outcome as my consultations with doctors somewhat earlier concluded very little hope. Jo's pain at this point was almost intolerable. Pain medications were being administered as often as could safely be done. We begin to consider a Hospice as her weight was down under eighty pounds. It did not seem there were any options left. Jo suddenly agreed to an amputation of her leg above the knee. There was some evidence of circulation at that level. Her overall condition was so poor that it seemed futile to me but we proceeded. She was moved to a regular hospital. This occurred the morning of September 11th 2001. Such turmoil and flood of emotions that day. By now, Jo's pain was almost unbearable. Surgery was successfully performed on the 12th. Remarkably, she never complained of pain again.
The early hours after surgery Jo was alert enough to communicate. She did so with concern about the work of others in her behalf. She always wanted to see her kitty cat. In one of her more lucid moments, she called Cheryl to her side, looked straight in her eyes as only a mother can, and said "no tears". About three days after surgery, it was obvious the end was near. Her breathing was more difficult as she gasped for breath. It was a question of which would go first, the lungs or the heart. Jo knew she would not survive but it was never spoken. Things grew worse, quickly.
God's providence must have been involved the last few hours. As noted earlier, an incredible number of people had stayed with Jo and many more men and women had visited. On Friday night September 21st, her sister, Nelda, spent the night with her. Jo no longer was talking, but as I left that evening she followed me out the door with her eyes.
The next morning I came into the room shortly after eight. I saw several nurses and a high degree of anxiety. I looked at Jo. Her gasping had ceased and she was barely breathing. I was asked if I wanted to take anymore emergency action. I again looked at Jo. I knew it was useless and simply said "let her go". Just then I looked again. Her breathing had stopped. The great lady of grace and dignity had finally yielded. She had gone to praise God, forevermore. No more pain, no more sadness, just joyful peace. Thanks be to God for His provisions that we can join her, if as Jo did, we pattern our lives as He directs.
Thank you for your interest in Jo's triumphs. Feel free to email me if you have any questions or comments.
-- Morris Robinson
Posted by on 06/25 at 03:07 PM