Gilroy
– Mornings are a difficult time in the Cardoza household.
It is a delicate balancing act since the passing of Maria
Cardoza, the 29-year-old matriarch of the family.
Gilroy – Mornings are a difficult time in the Cardoza household.
It is a delicate balancing act since the passing of Maria Cardoza, the 29-year-old matriarch of the family.
Rolando Cardoza alternates getting ready for work, rousing his two sleeping daughters and preparing breakfast, with making sure they actually get up, styling their hair and adjusting to the new situation.
“Maria used to do it,” he said looking down, his voice trailing off.
Maria Cardoza died earlier this month after her body rejected a heart and lung in a transplant she received in late December of last year.
Sitting at the kitchen table last Friday afternoon, Cardoza helped his two daughters, 5-year-old Samantha and 8-year-old Bianca – both students at Las Animas Elementary School – with their homework.
Bianca is her father – evenly tempered and serious. Her deep brown eyes show that she is much older than her years.
“Samantha looks dead on like her mom,” Cardoza said. Even her movements mirror her mothers, he said. “She’s feisty too … like her mom.”
In the beginning
Maria Cardoza was a mom. She also was a daughter, a dancer, a traveler, a planner and a volunteer.
The couple met on Thanksgiving Day at a salsa club in San Jose. Maria was 17, Rolando was 21.
They spent the next 13 years together, and the last six in and out of hospitals.
Cardoza was diagnosed with Primary Pulmonary Hypertension (PPH) about six years ago at Stanford Hospital.
It is a debilitating heart and lung disorder that typically strikes women in their early 20s. While the direct cause is uncertain, studies have shown a link between individuals who consumed fenluramine (Phen Fen) with the onset of the disease.
After her first pregnancy, Cardoza’s doctor recommended she take Phen Fen to help take the weight off. For three months she took the medication, but stopped because her heart raced and she felt ill.
Shortly after Samantha was born, Cardoza began experiencing symptoms, such as extreme fatigue and difficulty breathing. At a family trip to Six Flags she started falling behind between rides, and simply thought she was out of shape.
That night, Maria had a stroke and their lives changed forever.
“Everywhere we went we had to carry an emergency pack,” he said.
The couple learned how to live with the disease, spending half an hour each evening mixing a saline solution that Maria took intravenously and kept strapped to her in a battery operated pump.
Every time the couple went for a check up, regardless of how she felt, they received this message of warning from doctors: “This is a deadly disease. This is not a cure – but a treatment.”
“We didn’t want to hear it,” Cardoza said. “But you have to … Sometimes we asked ourselves why, but you can’t control things like that.”
Instead, they continued living as they had. The family visited Disneyland, Hawaii, Cancun and went camping.
“That’s how I tell the girls to remember her,” Cardoza said. “All the things we used to do.”
Though she couldn’t work, Maria spent three years volunteering at both San Ysidro and Las Animas schools, helping in her children’s classrooms and in the school’s front offices.
“She was always involved. Always willing to do anything,” said Maria Gonzales, Samantha’s kindergarten teacher. “She was a mother to all the kids.”
Because Maria Cardoza was someone the students knew and who regularly appeared in their classroom, grief counselors were brought in to help. They explained the various stages of a butterfly’s life, the changes that occur in its lifetime.
Because college was something Maria always envisioned for her daughters, Gonzales thought it was appropriate to establish a scholarship fund for them. “It’s something that will last forever, unlike flowers,” she said.
Condition worsens
As Maria’s condition deteriorated, she became eligible for a heart and lung transplant. She was placed on a list Dec. 16, 2004.
“A lot of people wait months and years,” Cardoza said. “On the 23rd, a donor came through. She knew (then) that there was no bailing out.”
The surgery lasted almost 10 hours. Initially, it was a success.
“(Maria) felt alive. Like she wasn’t strapped to a medicine pump,” Cardoza said.
But within months her body began rejecting the new organs.
“She was strong. Really strong. Always confident,” Cardoza said. “I have always heard that people know when they’re going to die. And she knew. She started saying things like, ‘Take care of the girls’ and ‘I love you.'”
Maria dictated what she wanted to wear at her funeral – her butterfly dress – and she gave instructions to be cremated. She gave a deadline of two weeks on life support.
“I don’t want to be like Terry Schiavo,” she said.
Throughout her illness she planned ahead. Graduation letters for the girls are sealed and tucked away for safe keeping until the day arrives.
Every Tuesday Maria’s friend Diana Sandoval would call to check in.
One day, Maria sent her out in search of a particular type of lace. Four antique stores later, Sandoval finally asked what it was going to be used for.
“Wedding veils,” she said. “Because I want to make sure my daughters know that I’m planning their weddings.”
She set aside something old, something new … jewelry and magazine clippings for the girls, Sandoval said.
“She was prepared (to die). Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.”
On April 8, Maria died at Stanford Hospital, two wings over from where her brother passed as a young boy.
“I feel really empty now,” Cardoza said. “You’re used to this routine. You get up and you talk to this person every morning …”
A week after her death he returned to work, where he serves as a program manager for a Calworks community health organization in San Jose.
“I was going crazy not going to work. There’s only so many times I can clean the house, or mow the lawn,” he said. “Either I am going to go crazy and not be there for the girls, or I can figure out what I am going to do.”
While Bianca and Samantha always knew about their mother’s condition, they are slowly coming to terms with the reality of her death. And as they age, he will explain more to them.
“Maria’s still with us. She’s just not physically with us,” he tells his daughters.
The Cardoza household has butterflies decorating the walls inside and out. A wrought iron ornament bounces in the breeze.
“They were really symbolic to her,” Cardoza explained. “Our priest says, butterflies are symbolic of resurrection.”
Donate funds at Wells Fargo, accounts are: Bianca Cardoza: #2475116188; Samantha Cardoza: #2475116220; or contact Maria Gonzales at Las Animas at 842–6414.
