It’s not the first time Avalon Park resident Kathleen Caron, 29, thought she would die. Violently ill during her entire pregnancy, her life was marked by unceasing nausea, dizziness and fatigue. She was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, a severe form of morning sickness. Bedridden and losing weight, Kathleen was on an IV and visited by nurses, unable to keep anything down, hardly able to shuffle to the toilet.
“Her pregnancy was a miserable time for the whole family. There were times where I honestly felt she and the baby weren’t going to make it,” says her husband, David, 37. She lost 30 pounds during the pregnancy. On Sept. 2, 2005, it seemed like a miracle when she delivered a healthy blue-eyed girl, Haley.
After that, Kathleen didn’t bounce back, not exactly, but she seemed better. “She wasn’t back to normal. Shopping at BJ’s, she would have to use one of those things like elderly people sit in to shop. I couldn’t understand how someone so young could not have energy,” says her mother, Martha Barrett, a teacher at Cypress Springs Elementary.
In January, Kathleen started to weaken more. Still light-headed and nauseated, now she had extreme pressure in her head, and the left side was slightly swollen. David worried she was pregnant again. But a visit to the emergency-care walkin clinic at the Wal-Mart Supercenter on East Colonial Drive found Dr. Robert Walker, a physician who sized up the situation differently. He ordered an MRI. A few days later, the world fell apart.
There was a mass, a bit bigger than a golf ball, restricting the blood flow in her brain. Benign or malignant, the tumor — and its nature couldn’t be known without a biopsy — made normal life impossible. Kathleen, who turns 30 on June 28, grew weaker. Going to the hospital for tests, she was in a wheelchair; going to the grocery store for food, she was in a motorized cart.
The Mary Kay saleswoman who loved swimming and traveling had disappeared — in her place was a woman in constant, excruciating pain. And her specialists in Orlando weren’t helping. In mid-March, she and her husband drove to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, with all her medical records, for what was supposed to be two weeks. Now it’s been three months. Concerned about the high-risk nature of open-brain surgery, a team of physicians continue to test Kathleen. There could be neurological complications, extensive pain.
There could be paralysis, even an aneurysm. Kathleen’s white blood cell count is high, her arteries are narrow and her blood pressure is low, all adding to the risk. Through the Family and Medical Leave Act, David hasn’t lost his job as a department manager at the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market on Avalon Park Boulevard.
But the bills are piling up, and the Carons have no income. They are paying $87 a night for a modest hotel room about eight miles from the outpatient center at Johns Hopkins. If things don’t change, they could lose the house they scrimped and saved to buy. “It’s lonely,” David says. “It’s a total commitment to the hospital.
We don’t know what road we could end up on. It could be short and quick, or a long treatment where we have to come back multiple times. We have to hang in there. We miss our daughter terribly.” Haley is staying with Kathleen’s aunt and uncle, Marianne and Joe Furnari, in Salem, Mass. She is a good-natured toddler, lively and bright, who nightly prays to God to “make Mommy all better.”
The FMLA guarantees time off, paid or unpaid, and continued health insurance coverage. David stopped getting paid in April. His insurance through Wal-Mart, Blue Cross and Blue Shield, would cover 80 percent of surgery, but is not covering their other expenses. Twenty percent of open-brain surgery would amount to tens of thousands of dollars.
Not to mention the more than $3,000 a month it costs to stay in Baltimore as they await a genuine diagnosis and prognosis. David has started a foundation for people who want to donate to their cause. Checks must be made out to the Kathleen Caron Medical Fund, and sent c/o the same name to 1938 Saffronplum Lane, Orlando FL 32828.
“I really want to watch Haley grow up, to be there to support my husband,” Kathleen says. “It’s unbelievable how life can change in a moment. “We’re trying to put one foot in front of the other, but our life feels derailed. Even so, I feel fortunate compared to people who have no quality of life. I am in the best hands in the world as far as medical care.” Barrett recalls her daughter as she was, a vibrant saleswoman, a generous daughter.
A woman who donated Mary Kay cosmetics to teenagers undergoing chemotherapy at Orlando Regional Medical Center and Florida Hospital. “If I told her I loved a certain dress, she would go out and buy it for me. She would give you the shirt off her back,” Barrett says. “No matter what her situation is, she is always willing to help somebody else. If she hears a sad story, she wants to do something,” David echoes.
Even now, worn out and anxious for her family’s future, Kathleen speaks of one day starting a foundation to raise awareness of brain cancer and the neurological problems caused by masses in the brain. “I believe in God. I pray Haley will have a mother,” Barrett says.
“God has been with us through tragedies, like when she was so sick during pregnancy, she came close to dying then. She pulled through that. I’m praying for another miracle.”
Chari
