My Donna

by Ann Bibb

Donna Marie Spain Cook was born on the 29th of March 1962 in Windsor, Missouri, outside of Whiteman AFB, where her father was stationed at that time. She passed away on the 20th of December, 1989 in Austin, Texas and she is buried in the Sacred Heart Cemetery in Rockne.

This daughter of mine was the epitome of courage. She struggled with health problems from an early age. She had eye surgery when she was four and had many other maladies which necessitated trips to the doctor. But when she was 13 she started having more and more serious difficulties—we took her to eight different doctors before she was diagnosed with Lupus. Lupus is an autoimmune disease and has the potential to attack many different parts of the body. In Donna’s case it mainly affected her kidneys although she dealt with many other symptoms and problems as well.

Through most of her adolescence, she spent enormous amounts of time in Wilford Hall Medical Center in San Antonio—very difficult for a teenager. Normalcy was extremely important to her—she was not sick! I remember her trying to negotiate a deal with her team of doctors to let her come home for just one weekend so she wouldn�t miss some important dance because “everyone” was going to be there. She lost the negotiation but she had her chief doctor crying with her when the conversation was over! (She also liked to have her own way and could really argue a point well!)

In the early 1980’s her kidneys finally failed completely and she had to go on dialysis three days a week. Initially, she went to San Antonio until she was stabilized, then she transferred to a clinic in San Marcos where she was attending college. In 1982, she received a kidney transplant. I was able to donate one of my kidneys. We all had called everyone we knew to pray for the success of the surgery. I think just about all of my 11 brothers and sisters were in the waiting room praying plus more family and friends. They hooked up the new kidney and it turned pink and started working right away. Donna was wheeled down to visit me the next day. She had never doubted we would have a successful day. Her prayers stayed with those teenagers in the dialysis unit that had to wait for a donor kidney. They were younger than she was and no one in their families matched for a transplant.

On 17 December 1983, she married Dale Cook and two years later they had a beautiful baby girl they named Samantha Elizabeth. It took Donna eight years to finish college, majoring in Accounting and graduating summa cum laude. Soon after graduation, she took the CPA exam, which most people wait awhile before taking and then take in stages. But not our Donna; she took and passed all four parts on the first try and landed a position with a great tax firm in Austin as a result. (Again, if you�re going to do something, you have to do it perfect, Donna’s way! Her siblings could always get her mad by teasing her because the one thing she couldn’t do well was spell.) However, she passed away before she received her official certificate—Dale and Samantha went to the ceremonies and picked it up for her after her death and they hung it in her office at home.

Once we came very close to losing her when she was about fourteen—she had an infection in her nose and had to be rushed to the hospital in San Antonio. She was in the hospital for over a month after that and I remember well when I was bringing her home and she looked at me and said “Mom, you didn’t think I was going to make it, did you?” I had to admit to her that I was very worried. She said “I knew I wasn’t going to die.” When I asked her how she knew, she replied: “God put me on this earth for a purpose and I haven’t done it yet, so He isn’t going to let me die.”

What was her purpose? We’ll never know for sure, but I can say that she made a difference. She certainly accomplished what she set out to do while she was here, however briefly. She deeply loved her family and showed it in countless, thoughtful ways. She had an incredible gift for friendship—she truly appreciated and cherished her friends and they knew it. And she had a deep and personal faith in God that was unshakable and inspiring. She never doubted.

Most of the time Donna didn’t believe that her illness was a trial or some horrible cross she had to bear. She didn�t question why she was the one chosen to have this disease. Her sister recalls a conversation when she asked Donna if she didn’t question God. Donna replied that she was sick because God knew she could handle it—he’d also given her the strength she needed to get through what she had to get through. Missie recalled that conversation so often after Donna’s loss that she now knows it for herself—that along with the tests we are given comes the strength and faith to survive them.

Many, many prayers were said during her years of illness. Some particular times were a prayer mass at the rectory when Father Alois was in San Antonio. Another prayer mass for healing was organized by the nuns in Boerne with input from Donna—she selected the hymns and some of the readings and Father Victor said the mass. It was a special, loving evening. The Benedictine community pretty much adopted her and kept her on their prayer list daily. When her daughter, Samantha, was born, they also had her baptism in their beautiful chapel, and planted a tree in Samantha’s honor. The support and love that our entire family received from our extended community of faith during that time was something we have never forgotten or ceased to treasure.

One of the many things I admired about Donna was her acceptance of her illness and the untold amounts of pain she endured. In discussing it with her she said “people talk about how brave I am, what choice did I have?” She did have a choice, she could have given up and spent her life having people care for her as an invalid, but she chose to be strong and fight to be as normal as possible every step of the way.

Words are inadequate to express the loss I feel without Donna. However, I shall always cherish the memories I have and be thankful for the time the good Lord let her be with us. One of my best memories is when she spent four days in Dallas in November before she left us in December. She must have known at that time that something was wrong. The hugs were tighter and our conversations were much deeper. We had some very good times and I will always cherish the memories.