The Story Behind TLC Support Group

In memory of Thomas Leon Brown by Matonth Brown

In 2022, my father, Thomas Leon Brown, was diagnosed with colon cancer. The doctor told him he had about two years if he got chemotherapy or just six months otherwise. He was living in Lake County, California, and I was in Arizona. I just knew in my heart I had to take him home to be with his family and grandkids.

My father had already told the people in Lake County that he was returning to Arizona before we brought him back, where Apache culture would cure him. He never once said modern medicine would cure him. He always believed it was his culture that would cure him.

My sister and I went to California and brought our parents back to Arizona. The moment he was with us, we started trying to work on his diet, as his diabetes had also been uncontrolled. After a couple more serious conversations with his doctor, my dad decided to try a couple of rounds of chemo. But when I accompanied him for those sessions, I could see how much strength it drained out of him. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't smile, he just wanted to be somewhere else.

I was making regalia for our Pomo tradition back then. When I showed him a finished product, he smiled. That is when I knew tradition and culture were the causes of his smile, not chemo. If we sat home and talked about songs or rituals, he would brighten again. He would recount stories to my sister of his youth on the Elem Rancheria, recalling the previous generation who had raised him and how things had been.

He loved it most when we would bring him to Native ceremonies and festivals. I believe that the drumming and singing invigorated him. We even had an Apache Medicine Man come to our house to bless him. My father was so weak when he was in his wheelchair, but to see him get up on his own two feet during the blessing, that was just something more than medicine he wanted.

His biggest fight wasn't cancer, it was his diabetes. Low blood sugar would send him into panic. After yet another session with his doctor, we chose to abandon the chemo and focus instead on healing his gut health and strengthening his spirit through cultural practices. My dad was amenable. He finished up his last chemo session and we were going to move forward with cultural healing.

But a few days later, he fell ill. He was hospitalized and diagnosed with pneumonia. His immune system, which had been weakened by chemo, and again his sugar level were deteriorating, and he couldn't survive. My dad died a few days later.

We sent him off with a traditional funeral ceremony, and he was buried at Holy Ground in San Carlos, Arizona.

When he passed away, I couldn't help but wonder about things that perhaps I could have done differently. Could I have seen him more when he was in California? Asked him about his doctor appointments, his diabetes medication, his sugar levels? Could we have skipped the chemo altogether and done a gut health and cultural healing model from the beginning? Maybe he'd still be here.

Those thoughts stayed with me. I did not want to see another elder or relative go through what he went through. That is how the TLC Support Group began, to care for Native people battling cancer. To let them know they are not alone. To offer care that respects their culture, their spirit, and their resilience.

We can do better for them. And we will.

Love you, Dad.
This is for you.