Tammy’s Story: Finding Family, Facing Cancer, and Leaving a Legacy

A Call That Changed Everything

When the social worker first called Carole about a “hard to place” foster child, she was almost whispering in hesitation. She had no idea that Carole and her husband, Chren, who had spent 25 years fostering difficult-to-place teenagers, were navigating an empty nest identity crisis. As Carole puts it, they would have taken in a dragon if offered. Instead, they welcomed Tammy—a 17-year-old girl who had already endured more than most, yet radiated a selflessness that would leave an indelible mark on everyone around her.

It was the summer of 2008 when Carole and her husband, Chren, charged up to Children’s Hospital of Orange County (CHOC) to meet Tammy, or, as Carole describes it, to overwhelm her. Tammy clung to her sitter’s hand, asking not to be left alone with the eager couple. Their first meeting lasted only two minutes. The next night, they stayed five. Then ten. Before long, Carole was spending entire days by Tammy’s side, growing more attached with each visit.

Doctors soon discovered the cause of Tammy’s seizures—an aggressive oligoastrocytoma brain tumor. The news was overwhelming. “The social worker acknowledged we may not want to continue with Tammy in our care as this might be very serious,” Carole recalls. “But there was no turning back; we were now connected.” The first tumor removal left Tammy partially paralyzed on her left side. Two weeks later, following removal of a second tumor, she was partially paralyzed on her right side. Yet, even through slow and slurred speech, Tammy made it clear who had won her heart. “I’m not eating until Dad comes from work to feed me,” she insisted to the nurses, cementing her place as daddy’s little girl.

Love, Resilience, and Laughter

Back at home, Tammy’s resilience shone through in every way. Carole, Chren, and two of their local adult children adjusted their lives around her treatments, never once hearing a complaint. Radiation was grueling, and the sight of a stiff mesh mask stretched tightly across Tammy’s face left Carole feeling sick. But Tammy, always able to find joy, brought levity to even the hardest moment. When her hair began to fall out, she embraced the inevitable, opting for a bold new haircut: a mohawk. “I was mortified,” Carole admits, “especially when my son and future son-in-law joined her. Then they strutted around like runway supermodels—well, sort of. Their modeling skills were lacking, to put it mildly, but it made all of us laugh. And then they all shaved their heads. To me, they were beautiful.”

“Tammy’s chemotherapy was no walk in the park,” says Carole. “Some days she could walk to the car after her sessions; other times she needed a wheelchair.” Bedridden for days after infusions, Carole sat by her side coaxing her to take ice chips and sips of water, tea, or ginger ale. “I washed out cardboard buckets of vomit until they wore through,” she recalls. “Then I’d replace them and do it all over again.” Yet through it all, Tammy never once uttered a single complaint.

After a year of chemotherapy, Tammy was cancer-free. She didn’t mind hospital visits for blood draws and MRIs because the seizures were gone. With newfound freedom, she flourished. She completed high school at the local community college—the first in her biological family to do so. She joined an advisory council at CHOC, volunteered at a kitchen for the homeless, and worked at Disneyland. She even obtained her driver’s license. She was a thriving young woman, finally living a normal teenage life.

Tammy’s greatest “rebellion” was a single, rather large deception—one that revealed just how much she loved her foster family. When she received a full scholarship to a private university, she didn’t tell anyone. “She didn’t want to be away from us,” Carole says. Instead, she chose to commute to community college while working, dating, attending church, traveling, and being a part of two family weddings.

A Cruel Twist

But in 2012, Tammy’s health took another turn. A seizure sent her to the ER, where doctors delivered the dreaded news: the tumor was back. This time, treatment included traditional chemotherapy and radiation, along with an experimental skull cap connected to a machine designed to break apart her tumor. For five years Tammy endured grueling rounds of treatment, once again facing it all without complaint.

When she finally said she couldn’t do it anymore, Carole and Chren respected her decision. “She asked to stay home and receive hospice, and we agreed,” Carole shares. They set up a bed in their living room, where her friends and biological family visited. “When her memory faded and she forgot how to climb stairs, I would tickle behind each knee to remind her which leg to lift. When she could no longer walk, our son carried her to his truck and drove her to a lookout so she could view the city lights she loved.”

Tammy’s Legacy

On April 10, 2014, at the age of 23, Tammy passed away in the home she loved, surrounded by family. But her selflessness didn’t end there. Even in death, she found a way to give back. She had researched and chosen Eternal Reefs, a company that turns cremated remains into eco-friendly ocean reefs. Tammy’s remains were placed off the coast of Galveston, Texas, where marine life will flourish around her for generations to come.

“What would Tammy have become?” Carole often wonders. “What could she have further contributed?” These are questions without answers. But ending pediatric brain cancer will ensure that future children have the chance to find out. Tammy’s legacy is one of love, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to giving back—a legacy that will not be forgotten.