A Quiet Angel
By Tamera Huber
Whether attending board meetings, volunteering at health fairs, dancing the
Electric Slide or teaching the next generation of nurses, Dr. Lillian Yeager
embraced life — for as long as possible. She embodied the word charity, and
gave her time, her talents and her compassion to others while she struggled to
survive Stage IV ovarian cancer, the most advanced phase of the disease. On
May 23, 2006, Lillian died at the age of 62, five years to the day after she
received the diagnosis.
As dean of nursing at Indiana University Southeast in New Albany, Lillian
continued working until two weeks before her death. During the five years after
her diagnosis, her only respite from chemotherapy lasted six months. Lillian
never experienced a remission. “She knew she wouldn’t beat it, but the chemo
extended her life,” daughter Michelle Yeager says. Michelle can count the
number of times on one hand that her mother seemed upset about her
prognosis. “People admired her strength and positive outlook even though she
was going through a great deal,” Michelle says.
The week after the cancer diagnosis, Lillian joined Ovarian Awareness of
Kentucky (O.A.K.), a gynecological cancer support and education organization.
Lillian always raised her hand to help at health fairs and fundraising events, and
visited newly diagnosed cancer patients, according to O.A.K. co-founder Jill
Doimer. “She always put everybody before herself,” Jill says. She grabbed
women, almost literally, from her oncologist’s waiting room and brought them to
support meetings.
A commitment to community involvement led Lillian to serve on the boards of O.A.
K., the Home of the Innocents, Southern Indiana Rehab Hospital, KYANNA (the
Black Nurses Association of Louisville) and Frazier Rehab, among others. She
was elected to the National Episcopal Church’s executive council, on which she
served for six years, and was active in her own St. Matthews parish.
But the cancer failed in its mission to slow her down. Instead of giving up, Lillian
became active in every aspect of her life and inspired others to do the same.
Although she tired more easily, less than a month before she died, Lillian
traveled from one state to another attending meetings, graduation ceremonies
and family events. Michelle says, “She did every single thing she wanted to do.
No regrets.”
Michelle, a UniServ director (a teacher representative and advocate) for the
Jefferson County Teachers Association and her parents’ only child, learned
respect and support for people by observing the way her mother treated others.
“Nothing someone does is small. All things need to be recognized and noticed,”
she says, echoing her mother’s quiet teachings. Lillian was a nurturer who drew
upon an inner strength, even during chemotherapy, to reach out to others.
Michelle relates the story of her mom visiting a young mother dying of cancer. On
the way to the hospital room, Lillian noticed a woman crying by the elevator. She
comforted the stranger and asked which patient she was visiting. The two women
discovered they planned to see the same person, and they became fast friends.
“She would have done anything for my mom,” Michelle says.
One winter when Michelle was a teacher and still living at home, Lillian, who was
recovering from lymph node surgery, woke up early. She shoveled the driveway
while Michelle slept so her daughter wouldn’t be late for school.
Friends and associates share similar stories with Michelle. “Seventy percent of
people who visited my mom in the hospital knew the exact date when they met
her,” she says. Many who visited Lillian had been visited by her previously —
when they were diagnosed. Immediately after her mother died, Michelle Yeager
set up a Web blog, www.lillianyeager.blogspot.com, which allows friends to post
comments and memories about her mom.
Seeing No Color
Lillian, the oldest of five children, grew up in Georgia during the Civil Rights Era
and dispensed salt tablets to marchers in Selma, Ala. Although she received her
undergraduate nursing degree from Tuskegee University, she was barred from
attending a master’s program in Alabama. Instead, she moved to the Detroit
area, earned a master’s degree in medical-surgical nursing education from
Wayne State University, then graduated with a doctorate in educational
leadership from Spalding University. “She wanted to be as much as she could be
with what she had,” Michelle says.
Both of Michelle’s parents worked on college campuses, and both have
scholarships dedicated to their memories: the Lillian Yeager Nursing Leadership
Award at IUS and the T. Stephen Yeager Scholarship at Jefferson Community
College (JCC). Michelle’s father, who died when Michelle was in high school,
wrote grants for JCC and began a recognition ceremony for African American
students, a program which celebrated its 20th anniversary this year. Her earliest
memory of her parents? Tagging along during meetings. “I saw how much they
were involved and how important they were in the community.”
At her mother’s 60th birthday party, Michelle met people from diverse
backgrounds — black, white, old, young. “My mother saw no color.” Everywhere
she goes, she hears Lillian’s praises. No surprise to Michelle. Lillian attended
every one of her daughter’s ball games, gymnastics meets, and performances.
A Quiet Angel
To her daughter and to those whose lives she touched, Lillian is “a silent angel.”
She may not have changed the world, but she changed lives — one at a time.
Michelle says, “Each person she touched made a difference.” And she touched
so many lives.
Michelle remembers a night when her mother chaperoned a dance at her high
school. Nobody wanted to be the first on the dance floor. The DJ played the
Electric Slide and her mother started dancing by herself. Michelle cringed with
embarrassment until her friends joined her mother. From then on, whenever that
song played, Michelle and her mom danced together.
Receiving Sunday communion at St. Matthews Episcopal Church was another
way Michelle and her mother shared the joy of being together. “I had looked
forward to being with her on May 21.” They planned to celebrate her mother’s
five-year cancer survival, Michelle’s 30th birthday, and communion with each
other. “Unfortunately, that day didn’t come.”
Lillian entered the hospital, prepared to die. “I went to church and realized that
there would be no more Sundays like that…however, there was one more.” The
funeral service on May 31 gave Michelle another opportunity to take communion
next to her mother; the casket sat at the communion rail. Michelle says, “I was
comforted by that.” And that very night Michelle and her friends went to Jerry
Green’s, her mother’s favorite club — and danced the Electric Slide.Memories:
Jacquelyn Reid worked with Lillian Yeager at IUS during the five years Lillian lived
with ovarian cancer. “Lillian had a saying, ‘On good days, I’m my usual self, and
on bad days — I’m my usual self.’ She was one very strong woman,” Jacquelyn,
IUS nursing instructor and nurse midwife, says. During Lillian’s first
chemotherapy, friends gathered around her, watched a Bill Cosby video, and ate
fruit popsicles as they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.
The laughter amplified through the halls and a nurse closed Lillian’s door
because the laughter was bothering the sick people. She says, “It was such a
different atmosphere in her room.” As she and Lillian’s other friends walked down
the hall, they noticed other patients receiving chemo. “Someone would be with
them, reading a book, not interacting, not sharing the bond.” Jacquelyn is a big
believer in staying positive — the more positive mindset, the better the treatment
outcome. Lillian exemplified a positive attitude and the strength of character
Jacquelyn admired. “She is just a courageous woman. I talk about her in the
present tense because she’s still with me,” she says.
Leah Phillips-Black remembers Lillian Yeager as a mentor who she dearly
misses. Leah, a nurse practitioner with NeuroCare of Southern Indiana, recalls
her first IV on a patient at Floyd Memorial. Lillian stood behind her stoically as the
patient asked how many IVs Leah had performed. She said, “I can’t count how
many I’ve done.” Lillian giggled and the patient immediately relaxed. So did Leah.
“By the grace of God, I got the IV in,” she says. Once she finished the procedure,
Leah admitted that his was the first IV on anyone other than a nursing student.
Lillian hugged her and they shared a good laugh.
One of the last times Leah saw her mentor was on May 10, thirteen days before
Lillian died. Although frail and 20 pounds lighter, Lillian attended a ceremony
celebrating Leah’s IUS Alumni Award of Excellence, an award for which Lillian
nominated her. When she saw Lillian, Leah ditched her prepared speech. “I threw
it out the window.” Instead, she told the audience how much Lillian meant to her
over the years and how much she loved her. “I got to thank her,” one last time.
O.A.K., Ovarian Awareness of Kentucky, provides resources in the form of
support and education for women with ovarian and gynecologic cancer, and their
family and friends. Jill Doimer, whose mother contracted ovarian cancer, and
Judy Morris, who died of ovarian cancer in 2003, co-founded the 501 c 3 non-
profit organization in 2001. At the time of Judy’s diagnosis, Louisville had no
ovarian cancer support groups.
O.A.K.
Norton Suburban Medical Plaza II,
Suite 309
3991 Dutchmans Lane
Louisville, Ky. 40207
Toll free: 1 (877) 899-4504
Local: (502) 899-¬6963
ovarianawareness@yahoo.com
Tamera Huber is a regular contributer to Today’s Woman.
By Tamera Huber
Whether attending board meetings, volunteering at health fairs, dancing the
Electric Slide or teaching the next generation of nurses, Dr. Lillian Yeager
embraced life — for as long as possible. She embodied the word charity, and
gave her time, her talents and her compassion to others while she struggled to
survive Stage IV ovarian cancer, the most advanced phase of the disease. On
May 23, 2006, Lillian died at the age of 62, five years to the day after she
received the diagnosis.
As dean of nursing at Indiana University Southeast in New Albany, Lillian
continued working until two weeks before her death. During the five years after
her diagnosis, her only respite from chemotherapy lasted six months. Lillian
never experienced a remission. “She knew she wouldn’t beat it, but the chemo
extended her life,” daughter Michelle Yeager says. Michelle can count the
number of times on one hand that her mother seemed upset about her
prognosis. “People admired her strength and positive outlook even though she
was going through a great deal,” Michelle says.
The week after the cancer diagnosis, Lillian joined Ovarian Awareness of
Kentucky (O.A.K.), a gynecological cancer support and education organization.
Lillian always raised her hand to help at health fairs and fundraising events, and
visited newly diagnosed cancer patients, according to O.A.K. co-founder Jill
Doimer. “She always put everybody before herself,” Jill says. She grabbed
women, almost literally, from her oncologist’s waiting room and brought them to
support meetings.
A commitment to community involvement led Lillian to serve on the boards of O.A.
K., the Home of the Innocents, Southern Indiana Rehab Hospital, KYANNA (the
Black Nurses Association of Louisville) and Frazier Rehab, among others. She
was elected to the National Episcopal Church’s executive council, on which she
served for six years, and was active in her own St. Matthews parish.
But the cancer failed in its mission to slow her down. Instead of giving up, Lillian
became active in every aspect of her life and inspired others to do the same.
Although she tired more easily, less than a month before she died, Lillian
traveled from one state to another attending meetings, graduation ceremonies
and family events. Michelle says, “She did every single thing she wanted to do.
No regrets.”
Michelle, a UniServ director (a teacher representative and advocate) for the
Jefferson County Teachers Association and her parents’ only child, learned
respect and support for people by observing the way her mother treated others.
“Nothing someone does is small. All things need to be recognized and noticed,”
she says, echoing her mother’s quiet teachings. Lillian was a nurturer who drew
upon an inner strength, even during chemotherapy, to reach out to others.
Michelle relates the story of her mom visiting a young mother dying of cancer. On
the way to the hospital room, Lillian noticed a woman crying by the elevator. She
comforted the stranger and asked which patient she was visiting. The two women
discovered they planned to see the same person, and they became fast friends.
“She would have done anything for my mom,” Michelle says.
One winter when Michelle was a teacher and still living at home, Lillian, who was
recovering from lymph node surgery, woke up early. She shoveled the driveway
while Michelle slept so her daughter wouldn’t be late for school.
Friends and associates share similar stories with Michelle. “Seventy percent of
people who visited my mom in the hospital knew the exact date when they met
her,” she says. Many who visited Lillian had been visited by her previously —
when they were diagnosed. Immediately after her mother died, Michelle Yeager
set up a Web blog, www.lillianyeager.blogspot.com, which allows friends to post
comments and memories about her mom.
Seeing No Color
Lillian, the oldest of five children, grew up in Georgia during the Civil Rights Era
and dispensed salt tablets to marchers in Selma, Ala. Although she received her
undergraduate nursing degree from Tuskegee University, she was barred from
attending a master’s program in Alabama. Instead, she moved to the Detroit
area, earned a master’s degree in medical-surgical nursing education from
Wayne State University, then graduated with a doctorate in educational
leadership from Spalding University. “She wanted to be as much as she could be
with what she had,” Michelle says.
Both of Michelle’s parents worked on college campuses, and both have
scholarships dedicated to their memories: the Lillian Yeager Nursing Leadership
Award at IUS and the T. Stephen Yeager Scholarship at Jefferson Community
College (JCC). Michelle’s father, who died when Michelle was in high school,
wrote grants for JCC and began a recognition ceremony for African American
students, a program which celebrated its 20th anniversary this year. Her earliest
memory of her parents? Tagging along during meetings. “I saw how much they
were involved and how important they were in the community.”
At her mother’s 60th birthday party, Michelle met people from diverse
backgrounds — black, white, old, young. “My mother saw no color.” Everywhere
she goes, she hears Lillian’s praises. No surprise to Michelle. Lillian attended
every one of her daughter’s ball games, gymnastics meets, and performances.
A Quiet Angel
To her daughter and to those whose lives she touched, Lillian is “a silent angel.”
She may not have changed the world, but she changed lives — one at a time.
Michelle says, “Each person she touched made a difference.” And she touched
so many lives.
Michelle remembers a night when her mother chaperoned a dance at her high
school. Nobody wanted to be the first on the dance floor. The DJ played the
Electric Slide and her mother started dancing by herself. Michelle cringed with
embarrassment until her friends joined her mother. From then on, whenever that
song played, Michelle and her mom danced together.
Receiving Sunday communion at St. Matthews Episcopal Church was another
way Michelle and her mother shared the joy of being together. “I had looked
forward to being with her on May 21.” They planned to celebrate her mother’s
five-year cancer survival, Michelle’s 30th birthday, and communion with each
other. “Unfortunately, that day didn’t come.”
Lillian entered the hospital, prepared to die. “I went to church and realized that
there would be no more Sundays like that…however, there was one more.” The
funeral service on May 31 gave Michelle another opportunity to take communion
next to her mother; the casket sat at the communion rail. Michelle says, “I was
comforted by that.” And that very night Michelle and her friends went to Jerry
Green’s, her mother’s favorite club — and danced the Electric Slide.Memories:
Jacquelyn Reid worked with Lillian Yeager at IUS during the five years Lillian lived
with ovarian cancer. “Lillian had a saying, ‘On good days, I’m my usual self, and
on bad days — I’m my usual self.’ She was one very strong woman,” Jacquelyn,
IUS nursing instructor and nurse midwife, says. During Lillian’s first
chemotherapy, friends gathered around her, watched a Bill Cosby video, and ate
fruit popsicles as they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.
The laughter amplified through the halls and a nurse closed Lillian’s door
because the laughter was bothering the sick people. She says, “It was such a
different atmosphere in her room.” As she and Lillian’s other friends walked down
the hall, they noticed other patients receiving chemo. “Someone would be with
them, reading a book, not interacting, not sharing the bond.” Jacquelyn is a big
believer in staying positive — the more positive mindset, the better the treatment
outcome. Lillian exemplified a positive attitude and the strength of character
Jacquelyn admired. “She is just a courageous woman. I talk about her in the
present tense because she’s still with me,” she says.
Leah Phillips-Black remembers Lillian Yeager as a mentor who she dearly
misses. Leah, a nurse practitioner with NeuroCare of Southern Indiana, recalls
her first IV on a patient at Floyd Memorial. Lillian stood behind her stoically as the
patient asked how many IVs Leah had performed. She said, “I can’t count how
many I’ve done.” Lillian giggled and the patient immediately relaxed. So did Leah.
“By the grace of God, I got the IV in,” she says. Once she finished the procedure,
Leah admitted that his was the first IV on anyone other than a nursing student.
Lillian hugged her and they shared a good laugh.
One of the last times Leah saw her mentor was on May 10, thirteen days before
Lillian died. Although frail and 20 pounds lighter, Lillian attended a ceremony
celebrating Leah’s IUS Alumni Award of Excellence, an award for which Lillian
nominated her. When she saw Lillian, Leah ditched her prepared speech. “I threw
it out the window.” Instead, she told the audience how much Lillian meant to her
over the years and how much she loved her. “I got to thank her,” one last time.
O.A.K., Ovarian Awareness of Kentucky, provides resources in the form of
support and education for women with ovarian and gynecologic cancer, and their
family and friends. Jill Doimer, whose mother contracted ovarian cancer, and
Judy Morris, who died of ovarian cancer in 2003, co-founded the 501 c 3 non-
profit organization in 2001. At the time of Judy’s diagnosis, Louisville had no
ovarian cancer support groups.
O.A.K.
Norton Suburban Medical Plaza II,
Suite 309
3991 Dutchmans Lane
Louisville, Ky. 40207
Toll free: 1 (877) 899-4504
Local: (502) 899-¬6963
ovarianawareness@yahoo.com
Tamera Huber is a regular contributer to Today’s Woman.
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