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Back in 1994 my grandma, Patricia Lawton, was part of an award-winning newspaper series chronicling women in central Illinois who were battling cancer. Throughout the fall of ’94 and spring of ’95, The Pantagraph, the local newspaper in Bloomington, Illinois, followed her in her fight against cancer. It was my grandma’s hope that through these experiences others would find inspiration, comfort and be better educated on the fight against what was then, I feel, a disease not readily talked about. It was in honor of this amazing woman that on April 29th, her birthday, I donated my hair to Pantene Beautiful Lengths, an organization that turns donated locks of hair into wigs which are given, at no cost, to women who are battling cancer. Like Grandma it is my hope that through donating my hair, and sharing her story, others are inspired to take similar action. It is also my hope that those who have been putting off getting tested, for whatever reason, are moved to do so. Early detection is still one of the best defenses. Cancer is a disease that touches everyone; we most assuredly all know someone who has had it. Like with other things in life we have, within ourselves, the ability to not only positively impact those patients who have this disease but also to protect ourselves. All that is required is action. To learn more about Pantene Beautiful Lengths, visit them at: http://www.pantene.com/en-us/beautiful-lengths-cause/Pages/default.aspx. Below is Grandma Pat’s story.

--David Currier

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PAT LAWTON IS DYING OF CANCER NO CAUSE TO FIGHT, NO CURE TO BE FOUND

Published: September 4, 1994 Bloomington Pantagraph

By: MARY ANN FERGUS

Pat Lawton winced as Kristine Wieser, an oncology certified nurse, injected one of three drugs into an IV tube. This was the first of a three-consecutive–day treatment with the drug combination N.F.L.; which she will take monthly.

Pat Lawton is not your typical breast cancer patient. Yet she is dying of the disease. Her journey through biopsies, hormone, radiation and chemotherapy treatment did not start with a lump. It started with a pain in her legs, a pain so bad that she could hardly walk. Lawton was finishing her 25th year as a teacher at Washington School in Bloomington when she went to a doctor twice in the spring of 1989 because of the pain. Both times, Lawton's doctor told her to take some aspirin and sent her home without taking any tests or X-rays. He said it was probably arthritis. The visits gave her little peace of mind and certainly didn't help the pain. "I went the whole summer limping," Lawton said. Before returning to school, Lawton went to a different doctor and through some X-rays, she learned she had a tumor on her pelvis. In fact, the tumor had cracked the pelvis - the cause of all her pain. In late September, the tumor was removed and she learned it was malignant and it was breast cancer. The doctor explained that a tiny tumor in her breast spread and turned up in her pelvis. Tests revealed the cancer reacted positively to hormones, confirming it was breast cancer.

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And so began treatment for a disease without a known cause or a cure. The treatment only could offer to help Lawton function as "close to 100 percent as possible," said Dr. John Kugler, Lawton's oncologist. Lawton's breast cancer is "extremely rare," because it never showed up on a mammogram and hasn't to this day, Dr. Kugler said. She doesn't have a lump that can be felt. There are four stages of breast cancer, ranging from the small and contained tumor to the type that has already spread to other organs of the body. Lawton had stage four cancer from the first day of her diagnosis. "It was problematic to treat because it had already spread although there was no lymph node involvement or hadn't gone to vital organs," Dr. Kugler said. Since the cancer had already spread when Lawton was diagnosed, Dr. Kugler had no reason to suggest surgery on her breasts. Instead, they have treated her entire body with hormone drugs and chemotherapy and used radiation on the spots hit with cancer. Her first form of treatment was taking the anti-estrogen drug tamoxifen commonly used as a hormonal therapy for breast cancer. This drug is effective for controlling the tumor and often prescribed as an alternative to chemotherapy in postmenopausal women. Tamoxifen taken twice a day, kept cancer at bay in Lawton's body for 18 months before it progressed. Lawton went on to take seven more different hormones during the next few years before doctors ran out of options earlier this year. Most hormones were taken in pill form although one was administered by injection to her stomach.

At 9, Kyle Lawton, Pat’s granddaughter, likes to have fun joking with her grandmother. Pat had set her wig on the bathroom counter when Kyle snatched it up to see how she would look with dark curly hair.

Meanwhile, cancer spread to her ribs, shoulder, skull, spine, and to a bone in her right leg. She has received radiation treatment on her back and shoulders and is now going through a second round of treatments to her leg.

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In May, Lawton started chemotherapy treatments, including a stint on the latest drug used for fighting breast cancer, called Taxol. The drug, covered by Lawton's insurance, costs about $3,000 a session because it is derived from the bark of the rare Pacific yew tree. A less expensive form of the drug exists but it is awaiting FDA approval. "You understand why people who are poor - they can't afford to have cancer," Lawton said. "It's a very expensive disease." In early August, she was placed on a new mixture of chemotherapy because Taxol was not helping her pain. She uses a cane to walk and she is often weak. "There is still a variety of chemotherapy options that will allow a number of months or a couple years of continued survival," Dr. Kugler said of Lawton's treatment options. Her reaction to the hormones and various drugs have been almost worse than the pain of cancer itself. Some lowered her voice. Others caused nausea and loss of strength. She grew facial hair on one hormone. Now she has lost her hair through chemotherapy. She has suffered muscle spasms. Radiation on her spine burned her esophagus and made her sick. She has been ill and hospitalized. She has had pneumonia. She temporarily loses her sense of touch in her fingers after chemotherapy. "There are times when I'm not feeling well, when I ask the question, `Is it really worth all this?' But it is. Life is precious." The 62-year-old says the hardest part of living with breast cancer is not having the strength and energy to do the things she once did. Before cancer, she would rise before 6 a.m. to prepare for a day teaching kindergarten students. She served on educational organizations, loved to shop and enjoyed spending time with her husband, three adult children and seven grandchildren. She especially enjoyed making holiday meals for her family in her home on Jackson Street. Lawton retired early - in June 1992 - because of her illness. She spends her days resting, and visits with friends when she can. She and her family go out to dinner on the holidays now because she can no longer cook a big meal. And she laughs about the fact she can no longer out-shop her family or friends. Pat has a close relationship with Kyle. The two try to spend one day a week together doing things such as playing Old Maid and trying on jewelry.

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The disease has taken its toll on her husband, Harvey. He now does most of the household chores in addition to caring for his wife. The couple will be married 41 years in December. Today, Lawton revels in the fact that she has lived almost five years since learning she had breast cancer on Sept. 22, 1989. But today, Lawton also believes she will die of breast cancer. She and Harvey recently picked out their grave sites. "I feel so fortunate," Lawton said, fidgeting as she talked. "At 57 when I got cancer, I was so thankful the kids were raised. I was happy they were settled. It's a cross - you have a little black cloud over you and it's called cancer. "I wonder about how I am going to die. I've always had trouble with the idea of dying. I don't worry about leaving the material things. I just don't want to leave my friends and family. I want more."

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DRUG TOXICITY TAXES MIND AND BODY DURING CANCER TREATMENT

Published: September 5, 1994 Bloomington Pantagraph

By: MARY ANN FERGUS

Kathy Jacek, a registered radiation therapist at St. Joseph Medical Center, changed the lead plates made

especially for Pat Lawton’s radiation treatment. The lead plates block the radiation so as not to expose more areas than needed. Pat has five different plates because she is being treated in several areas, both front and back.

Each patient has individualized plates.

They sit around in the pink room where the inspirational posters with nature scenes adorn the wall and large comfortable chairs await each new arrival. This is a happy room, or so it seems. The women gathered are talking, laughing, reading, napping, doing their needlepoint or hooking rugs. Today, three of the four women seated together happen to be former teachers at war with cancer. "Is this where all teachers end up?" one quips. "Here, without any class?" "Oh, we still have class. We have plenty of class," says Pat Lawton of Bloomington. Amid the chatter, a nurse comes in periodically to check on them or inject a new patient with a healthy dose of drugs in shades of blues, reds or yellow. Those are the same shades of their urine after the treatment although that might not be on the leaflets the nurse gives them. But the other side effects are there; listed in black and white. And when they're out of the pink room and back in their homes, they'll begin to feel - in varying degrees - the effects of these pretty drugs. Lawton, who has been fighting breast cancer for almost five years, was on the expensive and popular new drug Taxol from May until this day in late July when her doctor said it was no longer working. The drug is derived from the rare Pacific yew tree and costs about

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$3,000 per dose. He puts her on a new mixture of drugs today called "N.F.L.," for short. She laughs at the name. Among the possible side effects of her new regimen is: nausea, diarrhea, mouth sores, itchy eyes, hives, tightness of chest and congestive heart failure. It takes a couple days but later Lawton reports she has been sick. Despite new anti-nausea drugs developed in the last 15 years, chemotherapy still tests the mind and body. Like Lawton, cancer patients on chemotherapy will eventually wake up one day to find hair on their pillow or in their hands as they shower. For some breast cancer patients, that's the worst side effect of all as many of them are still dealing with an already mutilated body. Chemotherapy is prescribed for breast cancer patients to kill off the cancer cells that could be lurking elsewhere in the body. A woman trying to save her life will put up with the pain. After all, the statistics say it will help her live longer with this disease. Oncologists say a woman may work her way through seven or eight different mixtures of chemotherapy or hormone drugs as long as the body is responding. In addition to chemotherapy, Lawton has received radiation treatment to several parts of her body where the cancer has spread and hormone therapy. Radiation treatment has varying side effects but most women don't report anything dramatic. New technology has allowed doctors to offer individual treatment based on each person's anatomy and to reduce skin burning. Radiation therapy is almost always prescribed after a lumpectomy and sometimes after a mastectomy. Because breast tissue is affected by hormones, various forms of hormone manipulation is used to treat breast cancer. A woman may have to undergo surgery to remove the ovaries or adrenal gland and pituitary gland, eliminating estrogen production. More often, she may be prescribed a drug such as tamoxifen. The drug, sold in pills such as Nolvadex, interferes with the action of estrogen on cancer-cell growth. It has some serious side effects such as blood clots and an increased risk of cancer of the uterus. Some studies are testing tamoxifen as a preventative medicine for high-risk women. The latest treatment for breast cancer patients is a bone marrow transplant. So far, it has been used to treat advanced stages of breast cancer, usually after a person has had surgery and chemotherapy. It's at least a $100,000 procedure and it's not covered by all insurance. Doctors also worry that not enough patients are getting in clinical trials so that researchers will know which type of breast cancer patients are best served by the procedure.

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PAT LAWTON HELPS US ALL BY SHARING HER OWN STORY

Published: September 8, 1994 Bloomington Pantagraph

Letter to the Editor Earlier this year I found out that Pat Lawton had breast cancer. "Mrs. Lawton," as I knew her, was one of the best teachers I have ever had and she treated her students with kindness, compassion and respect. She taught school for 25 years and had a positive influence on her students' lives. By sharing her story of breast cancer, as in Sunday's Focus section, again we see this woman of great strength positively influencing others by sharing her personal story. We have been blessed to have a woman like Pat Lawton in this community, teaching the children of this community, for all these years. Those of us who had her as a teacher know what a blessing that was. --Rev. Susan Baller-Shepard, Normal

POSITIVE ATTITUDE IS VITAL IN THE FIGHT AGAINST CANCER

Published: September 11, 1994 Bloomington Pantagraph

Letter to the Editor I was very glad to see the article on Pat Lawton's breast cancer as it brings awareness to the disease and its effect on one's existence. The facts and information in the article were accurate, but those of us who know Pat know that the essence of the article was misleading. Pat is not "dying of cancer"; rather, she is LIVING WITH CANCER in a positive, hopeful and courageous way! Instead of adopting the attitude, "no cause to fight, no cure to be found," Pat has always approached the disease with the attitude that there is every reason to fight. To quote Pat, "Life is precious." While it is, most assuredly, important to know the facts regarding breast cancer, it is just as crucial to understand how a positive attitude like Pat's is VITAL to the fight against this insidious disease. --Barbara J. Aikin, Normal

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PAT LAWTON AN INSPIRATION FOR SCHOOL'S STAFF, STUDENTS

Published: September 13, 1994 Bloomington Pantagraph

Letter to the Editor Many years ago, it was my pleasure to welcome a new member of the Washington School staff by the name of Patricia Lawton. We soon found her to be a wonderful teacher and human being. She brought educational understanding, consideration for people and most of all, love for her children and the whole human race into her school environment. As her principal, I could always count on Pat's support in a united effort to produce the best program "for the children," first and always. The present sorry dilemma of our schools has resulted partly because of the extreme lack of this selfless love that Pat brought to her kids and to us who were fortunate enough to be a part of her school life. Pat is fighting the scourge of cancer with the same unbounding courage and will to win that she brought to her teaching. The thousands of us who benefited from her association through the years send up prayers daily for her triumph and recovery. It has been said that "though we speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not love, we are nothing." Pat, we who know you testify that you are as far from nothing as anyone can be. --Robert C. Barnard, Bloomington

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SURVIVORS FACE DISEASE WITH COURAGE Published: December 13, 1994

Bloomington Pantagraph By: MARY ANN FERGUS

Pat Lawton recalls a Christmas season a few years ago when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Lawton, of Bloomington, was sure it would be her last holiday. She even started labeling certain items in her house for family members. Today, the former Washington Elementary School teacher laughs - with gratitude - that her predictions did not come true. And don't ask her to tell you who gets what - she no longer remembers. For now, she is enjoying the season. She sits in her favorite easy chair in her living room and is dressed in holiday attire, replete with Christmas socks and a Santa Claus necklace. But that "little black cloud," she calls cancer is still hanging over her. In an hour she will get radiation treatment on both arms. It is a familiar process for Lawton who has had radiation on her back, shoulders and legs. After each session, she and husband Harvey hit the malls to do a little Christmas shopping. Lawton, 61, takes to the shops in a wheelchair because she is too weak to walk. Dr. John Kugler, Lawton's oncologist, recently took her off the chemotherapy treatments she had been getting since May. The last toxic mixture of chemo drugs left her so exhausted she could hardly breathe. She will be off the drugs indefinitely while she builds up her strength. The decision means a greater quality of life; she has more energy, an appetite and she's not sick to her stomach. She is looking forward to spending time with her family and attending a couple Christmas festivities at Washington Elementary School in Bloomington where she taught for 25 years. But the decision to stop chemotherapy is also a decision to stop fighting the cancer that has spread throughout her body, though not to any of her organs. "I think I've reached the end of the rope of what they can give me," Lawton said. Sometimes she imagines the cancer eating away her body. Other times, she practices a more positive visualization exercise and sees dinosaurs eating away the cancer. Either way, she believes she will die of this disease someday. "It's still scary," Lawton said about this process of dying. "I'm not thrilled about going. I'm probably not as frightened as I used to be. I've developed a little more peace but they're going to have to drag me out screaming..." she says half joking.

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Among the people she hates to leave most is her 9-year-old granddaughter, Kyle, who is very close to her. Kyle doesn't remember her grandmother before she got sick; when they would be silly and dance around the house together. Yet the two have enjoyed many special moments together; playing cards, reading books and doing their nails. She believes her relationships and her positive outlook have helped her health. On Tuesday, Lawton will celebrate Christmas with her friends in a breast cancer support group.

Pat Malik, right, shared a light moment with the breast cancer support group at BroMenn Lifecare Center. From the left are Gen Deutsch, Shirley Elble and Pat Lawton.

"That group isn't morbid or depressing at all," Lawton said of the Tuesday night group at BroMenn Lifecare Center. "Surely, we have times when people are sad and we cry but those times are few." The group is among the good things she has found since living with cancer for five years. "I just feel there's been so many positive things from cancer...wonderful friendships," Lawton said. "Even within myself; things I used to get hyper about, I don't anymore."

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BREAST CANCER SURVIVORS CELEBRATE LIFE IN RAIN Published: May 16, 1995

Bloomington Pantagraph By: MARY ANN FERGUS

DeDe Lancaster of Bloomington waits for granddaughter Roy Applegate to get off the bus after running the three-mile race in Peoria along with Lancaster's daughter, Amy Applegate. DeDe Lancaster didn't sleep well Friday night. But this time a sleepless night meant excitement. Three years ago, she lost sleep while waiting to find out if the "something suspicious," on her mammogram was cancer. It was and Lancaster had a mastectomy. She now calls herself a survivor. And so as she sat on the bus from Bloomington to Peoria to run in the Race for the Cure with her daughter and granddaughter, Amy and Rory Applegate, Lancaster didn't mind her lack of sleep. She didn't mind a bit. "It feels really good; really hopeful that this thing doesn't have to beat everyone," said Lancaster. "You don't have to die from it." She wasn't the only woman sleepless in Central Illinois. Many of the race participants spent the night in and out of a half-sleep, checking their clocks every hour and awaking before the alarms went off at 5 a.m. on Saturday. Dark skies, a cool breeze and the threat of rain didn't keep them from joining about 12,000 women and girls for this 10th annual race sponsored by the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Komen was a native of Peoria who died of breast cancer at age 36. "It's a celebration of another year as a survivor," said Kay Reimer of Normal, a 7-year survivor. For Becky Lawton of Bloomington, the race was one way of expressing her love for her mother, Pat, who is dying of breast cancer. Becky and her sister Kim Currier walked with their daughters. During the past week, Pat Lawton has grown sicker. She is not eating much and has been confined to her bed. "It's kinda frustrating when someone has cancer because you can't do much for them physically or even mentally - because it's something they face alone," Becky Lawton said. "It (the race) makes me feel like it's something I can do to help - probably not my mom but someone else. It helps my mom, it helps her spirits that we go."

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Pat Lawton was also on the minds of the 15 to 20 members of her local support group at BroMenn Healthcare who walked in the race. Lawton has lived with breast cancer for six years and is admired for her optimistic spirit and sense of humor. "She has such a great personality - she is certainly in our thoughts," said Dottie Howe of Normal, a 3-year survivor. "We've seen how she has handled it so when the time comes we'll hopefully handle it the same way." Support group members wrote Lawton's name on special race bibs worn on their backs to recognize a survivor. They also wrote in the names of former support group members, Montse Vilarrubla and Judy Myers, who have died of breast cancer. Soon after most women crossed the finish line, thunder and lightning struck and the skies opened. Heavy rained poured down for about an hour, scattering the women as they sought shelter and canceling many of the post-race ceremonies and activities. Before the rain, Lancaster made it past the finish line. Her daughter and granddaughter had finished just before her. "The thing that went through the mind first was I survived the race. I was feeling really proud of myself," Lancaster said. "It was very emotional knowing all the other women were running and the reason we were running. "It's almost like you're in a sorority. You survived the same thing. You do feel a kinship to people." Linda Sellberg and her daughter Jayme,10, walked the race in honor of her mother, Doris Bicknell of Bloomington. Bicknell is undergoing chemotherapy treatment after being diagnosed with breast cancer in December 1994 and undergoing a mastectomy. Before the race, Bicknell called her daughter and advised her not to walk because of the poor weather. But there was no stopping her daughter and granddaughter. "I almost lost her," Sellberg said, her eyes brimming as she neared the finish line Saturday morning. "I don't want that to happen to other people. I want them to find the cure."

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A TEACHER IN LIFE AND DEATH Published: June 6, 1995

Bloomington Pantagraph By: MARY ANN FERGUS

In her final battle with breast cancer, Pat Lawton gave her granddaughter, Kyle, a hug and a kiss during a visit

on May 11, shortly before her death.

A daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a friend, a teacher has died. A year ago, Patricia Lee Lawton agreed to be part of a series of articles on breast cancer. She told her story in hopes of helping others. And then she continued to let a reporter and photographer chronicle her death to a disease that took more than 46,000 women's lives last year. Last week, Pat Lawton died at age 62. Early Wednesday morning, students were dismissed for summer vacation. But by 4 p.m., cars and vans had turned the playground into a parking lot as friends and family gathered at Washington School after saying goodbye to Patricia Lee Lawton. It was here that Pat arrived before 7 a.m. on school days for almost 28 years. It was here she filled every wall and nook of her kindergarten classroom with decorations and teaching tools and told her students to "eat your milk and drink your cookies." It was here that people came two days after her death and reflected on the life lessons they learned from this teacher.

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In the cafeteria at Washington School, friends and family shared stories about Pat. They talked of the "magic" Pat created as she led the entire class in a lesson while also keeping a keen eye on those who needed extra attention. "She was very kind and she always made me laugh when I felt bad," said Kristy Jackson, 8, who was in Pat's last kindergarten class and was there on Wednesday to say goodbye. "She just kinda made me feel better." "She made each of them feel like they were the only one there," said Barb Aikin about her best friend's teaching style. "You felt like you were the queen or the king of the hill." It seems Pat's gift was making people in and out of classrooms feel important. Pat Lawton saw the good in people and she turned many into queens and kings throughout her life. Pat's ability to see the positive extended to cancer. Barb recalls visiting her in the hospital after she got the news. "She wasn't crying," Barb said. "In fact, she never cried. She never shed a tear about having cancer." There were times when Pat was angry she had cancer, but family and friends say she never sulked, never complained. And there was plenty to complain about during the past six years. Just getting diagnosed was an ordeal. Pat went to her doctor twice in the spring of 1989 because of a pain in her legs. Both times, the doctor told her to take some aspirin and sent her home without taking any tests or X-rays. He guessed it was arthritis. She spent the whole summer limping. Before the school year started, Pat went to a different doctor who found a tumor on her pelvis. The tumor was removed and it was malignant. The cancer never showed up on a mammogram but tests proved it was breast cancer. Her prognosis was not good. There are four stages of breast cancer, from the small and contained tumor to the type that has already spread to other parts of the body. When Pat was diagnosed, she was already at stage four. There was no need for surgery on her breast, instead, she started on various forms of hormonal therapy used to treat breast cancer. Drugs kept cancer at bay for more than a year and Pat was able to continue teaching. Friends and family were surprised she was living so well with cancer. But then it started to spread, first invading her ribs, then her shoulder, skull, spine and later her legs and arms. Reluctantly, she retired early in the spring of 1992. She didn't want her kindergarten children to see her sick, and she wanted to spend time with husband, Harvey, who had retired from his Social Security job. But Pat loved her job and planned to volunteer and substitute teach.

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In the next three years, however, Pat's health declined and she didn't get back much to Washington School. When hormonal therapy no longer worked, Pat underwent chemotherapy. She also received radiation on the spots hit with cancer. While the treatment prolonged her life, it did not come without pain. She battled nausea, weakness, changes in her voice, and muscle spasms. Radiation on her spine burned her esophagus and made her sick. She had pneumonia. She lost her hair. She lost her sense of touch for awhile. And in the past year, she gradually became too weak to walk as cancer spread through her body and into the bones in her legs. Yet when Pat talked about her illness, she emphasized what she had gained. She said she was fortunate to have lived so long with cancer. She felt luckier than younger woman faced with the same disease. And she bragged about "flunking," the hospice program in 1993 when she recovered after being extremely ill. "I just feel there's been so many positive things that have come from cancer," Lawton said before Christmas last year. "Wonderful friendships...even within myself. Things I used to get hyper about - I couldn't care less now. I don't worry about things. There are more important things to get upset about." Last December, Pat and her oncologist, Dr. John Kugler, agreed to stop chemotherapy treatments indefinitely. Pat wanted to enjoy the holidays. She was tired of being sick. She continued to get radiation. As she got sicker, Pat would often say granddaughter Kyle was the one she most hated to leave behind. Pat loved all her grandchildren, but she had developed a special bond with daughter Becky's only child, Kyle, 9. Pat was there when Becky gave birth to Kyle. As Kyle grew up, many said her friendly personality reminded them of her grandmother. Even when she was sick, Pat and Kyle read together, played card games or worked on the computer. Pat often wondered if her granddaughter would remember her before she was ill when they would get silly and dance around the house together. *** Just a little more than a month ago, on April 29, Kyle is playing with her cousins in front of her grandmother's white frame house on a Saturday afternoon. She holds a handful of dandelions, her contribution to Pat's 62nd birthday celebration. Streamers in Pat's favorite color - purple - are wrapped around a ramp built earlier this spring when she became confined to a wheelchair. Pat is in her easy chair in the living room where friends came to expect her. She had created a nest of that chair, surrounding herself with magazines, books, nail polish and a phone.

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Pat's legs hurt and she is tired but she appears happy as she greets visitors with the high-pitched voice that once led kindergarten students in song. Her mother and brother, both daughters and grandchildren are home. Her sister called from Germany and the family passes around the cordless phone to talk to her. Amid the flowers and birthday decorations, a "Happy Mother's Day," banner hung on the wall. Pat explains she kept it there since last year so she could make it to celebrate the day again. A couple weeks later, the easy chair is empty and Pat is in bed. It is the Thursday before Mother's Day and the Race for the Cure in Peoria. Harvey reports Pat has been in bed for the past week. She is tired and weak but her pain is numbed with drugs. She has not been hungry; eating only a small bowl of Rice Krispies and few spoonfuls of potato soup during the past 24 hours. Harvey is wearing an apron, as he has for many weeks and months now. Although a hospice nurse visits once or twice a week, Harvey has cared for his wife around the clock. Even now, Harvey welcomes visitors. He knows how it cheers Pat.

Pat Lawton’s easy chair was empty on this May afternoon as husband, Harvey, talked about his wife’s condition that confined her to bed in the last month of life.

She sits in bed, wearing a sleeveless nightgown. She has earrings on and her nails are still polished and filed perfectly. Her hair has grown back short, dark and straight since December. Her face is thin, her smile broad. Becky stops in to visit after work at State Farm Insurance Cos. Pat moves in and out of lucidity. She asks for Kyle, saying she makes her feel better. She looks at her television and asks "Is she from Bloomington?" Her optimism sneaks through her illness and the morphine. She says if she can make it to the race on Saturday, she will. Becky sits next to her on the twin bed.

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"I hope they like me in heaven," Pat says. "You're going to be their cheerleader," Becky replies. For the next two weeks, Pat grows sicker. On one of the rare sunny days in this month of above-average rainfall, Pat sits up in bed and talks. Her memory is sharp on this day, her conversation coherent. She says she would go outside if she just felt better. Skip Lawton, the oldest of Pat and Harvey's three grown children, arrives from Ohio to join his sisters and father on Mother's Day. It is a bittersweet day for they know death is imminent. Pat no longer watches TV. She is sleeping often and eating almost nothing. On a rainy Monday morning - Memorial Day, May 29, Pat Lawton died. She was 62. *** The following night, there were two gatherings to say goodbye to Pat. One was at Kibler-Smith Memorial Home in Bloomington. A framed collage of Pat and several photo albums with moments of her life from childhood to recent months were on display. A photo shows a younger, cancer-free woman in a pumpkin costume walking with children on Halloween. Another shows a grandmother reaching out to one of her children's babies. Friends at the funeral home say Pat had a way of reaching out to everyone, making the stranger into a friend. Down the street, at BroMenn Lifecare, the Tuesday night meeting of the breast cancer support group started as the visitation came to an end. Like many nights, there was laughter in room 100. But on this night, there were also some quiet moments as women cried while speaking of Pat. One by one, they shared their favorite memories and thoughts about their friend. The closeness that cuts through ages, background and professions in this group was reflected as even group leaders, Therapist Susan Gelberg and nurse Nancy Erwin, shared their feelings and their tears. Pat's death marks the fourth member the group has lost since January of this year. They recalled how Pat cheered them with her quick wit and a sense of humor that defied cancer. She could show the irony or the humor in a doctor's visit. They laughed as they talked about her spending sprees on the shopping channel where she bought faux diamonds and gold for her family and friends. And they talked with admiration for her positive attitude, her concern for others and her family life. Many of them spoke with admiration for Harvey and the couple's 41 years of marriage. But perhaps most importantly, they talked about how this woman showed them how to handle the worst outcome of a disease they have all faced and survived. "If anyone taught me what the meaning of courage is, she did," said Gladys Mercier, a breast cancer survivor and support group member. "She was the epitome of courage. Never giving up hope, always laughing and sharing. I feel very blessed to have known her."

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"She was a role model for all of us, in case we find ourselves in the same shoes," said Colleen Kelly. At her funeral on Wednesday, two friends - Barb and Janet Barnard, talked about their friend and her many contributions to life. "Much of what I really needed to know about how to live and what to do and how to be, I learned from Pat's life lessons," Barb said. "She gave so many of us friendships which will be cherished always and valuable insights about how to live life fully and positively with poise and courage." In addition to teaching others about life, Barb said her friend also taught her how to accept death. Family members said it was their mother who helped them deal with her illness and death. She said goodbye to many of her family and close friends, she planned her funeral, she had many talks with Kyle. Now Becky Lawton said she will try to remember her mother's spirit. She will have no further to look than her own daughter. "I think Kyle will help me deal with it," Becky said. "Perhaps because she's so much like mom...so positive." At East Lawn Memorial Gardens on Wednesday, Pat and Harvey's seven grandchildren stood solemnly before the casket as the Rev. Bert Lancaster led final prayers under a partly sunny sky. And then in the silence, each grandchild carefully pulled a pink rose from a bouquet and placed it on the casket. Kyle went first, holding her composure until she turned away from the casket and into her mother's arms. Her sobs punctuated the silence and the finality of this moment as her cousins and Pat's family and friends continue the ritual. A daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a friend, a teacher has died. The crowd at the cemetery leaves to gather at Washington School. The next day, Kyle and Becky return to the cemetery. This time Kyle places a cross she made with roses on her grandmother's grave. She feels better after doing this. "She told me she will be my guardian angel," Kyle said. "I will never forget her. Never, never never."

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CANCER BECAME COMMON BOND Published: June 6, 1995

Bloomington Pantagraph By: MARY ANN FERGUS

They met in 1966 when Barb started teaching at Washington School and was as "green as they come," by her own recollection. But Pat and another teacher, June Schultz, quickly took her under their wings and taught her how to be a teacher. Through the years, Pat and Barb became close friends. She recalls their Friday afternoon classes when they would sing party songs such as "On Top of Spaghetti," with Pat playing the piano, a skill she learned later in life. They shared more serious, as well as light moments, outside the classroom, too. Their friendship deepened as Pat faced life and death with breast cancer. And so it seemed to be a mystifying and cruel twist of fate when Barb's sister, Susan Clary of Normal, was diagnosed with breast cancer in April as Pat was dying of the disease. "Why? Why now?" Barb, Susan and Pat asked themselves. But with statistics that say a new case of breast cancer will be diagnosed every three minutes in the United States, Susan Clary also asked "Why not me?" Breast cancer is women's second leading cancer killer, after lung cancer. About 182,000 cases were diagnosed in 1994 while more than 46,000 women died of the disease. Susan, 48, had a mastectomy last month and her prognosis appears good; the cancer had not spread and she does not need chemotherapy. She is taking the anti-estrogen drug tamoxifen, commonly used as hormonal therapy for breast cancer. From her bed, Pat offered names and phone numbers of the people who helped her cope with breast cancer. The first name was Nancy Erwin, oncology director at BroMenn Healthcare. And the next words were "support group." Pat believed in the support group, the special kinship it offered and the laughter and tears that sometimes only can be shared with people facing the same situation. She called a support group member to make sure someone would be there to greet Susan. And so just a week before Pat Lawton died, Susan made it to a Tuesday night meeting. "She's definitely the reason I'm there," Susan said. "She was adamant about me being there."

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Member Patty Alsader said it "feels like a part of Pat is at the group." Already, Susan feels at home. "It was wonderful," Susan said after her first meeting. "You have the commonality. You've joined their sorority. It really does help a lot."