After a year
long bout with esophageal cancer, my brother-in law, Stuart, died around
2:00 AM on December 12, 2000. With the support of his wife, Annie, he
fought hard and tried everything possible. But, in the end even the very
painful new experimental treatment at Sloan-Kettering could not stop the
spread of his disease.
As recently
as the week just before Thanksgiving, Stuart was his upbeat self when
we talked to him, and he was feeling as well as he had felt in months
and hoping to beat the odds.
But shortly
after Thanksgiving, a CAT scan showed that the chemotherapy was not
helping and the cancer was still spreading, and there were no more treatment
options. By the next weekend, he was in the hospital once more. They
managed to get him stabilized, and home again on heavy doses of morphine.
But by last weekend he was readmitted to the hospital and another CAT
scan showed a brain tumor as well. It was really obvious to everyone
that it was very near the end, but since it was a Catholic hospital,
and I assume that because they believe in preserving life at any cost,
they wanted to give him radiation for the brain tumor, even though he
was obviously dying. Fortunately, the oncologist and Annie put their
collective feet down and refused to allow them to do that. Then he was
completely sedated and on the verge of a coma for a few days. When the
phone rang at 7:00 AM on the 12th, we really knew what it was.
Over the
year, my spouse talked to him as often as Stuart felt like talking,
and offering what support he could for either or both of them at least
once a week. But there never seemed a right time to go there to see
him. For the past three weeks or so, since the onset of this last crisis,
Stuart was unable to communicate in any meaningful way. Going there
seemed more like an intrusion and a burden at that point, so there was
no real opportunity for last minute good-byes. Fortunately, Stuart had
been able to come to Chicago this past Spring to visit his family, and
especially his mother who is in a nursing home. I think he wanted us
to see him while he was physically and mentally still as sound as possible,
before the effects of chemotherapy and radiation took a toll.
Plans for
a memorial service were somewhat indistinct, hurried and last minute
--as they often are in cases like this when people really have chosen
not to deal with the inevitable. Not meaning to criticize here, it's
just a common occurrence to avoid it and of course no one knows when
the exact moment is coming, do they? This week we had huge snowstorms
and getting in and out of Chicago was iffy. Rather than go to NY, since
no one here knows anyone except Ann there, it was decided to have a
separate memorial service in Chicago, since there will be no interment
and his ashes will be shipped back. It will be held at the nursing home
where Gertie, his mother, resides. A moment for remembrance and reflection,
I think, so that the local Chicago family members and friends can come
and pay their respects. From my own experience, I feel that memorials
of some type are important in helping the living to cope. I think it
will be a good thing to do and helpful for Gertie, especially.
Stuart
was a very personable and handsome guy. The times when I saw him, (maybe
three or four in twenty-three years), he was easy to talk to and he
gave the impression that he really liked people. Like a good salesman,
he tried to find common ground, to make you feel comfortable in his
presence. He loved to cook, and I hear he was good at it. He loved to
talk and enjoyed being the center of attention. And he really wanted
you to like him. He was such a successful charmer that, despite the
fact that he lived far away --or maybe because of it-- he managed to
maintain his place as his mother's favorite. Not an easy task with any
mother, let alone a nice Jewish mother, especially when you've moved
away from the family and are an infrequent visitor. Charming, he was!
You would have liked him. It's too bad we never had more of an opportunity
to get to know him and his wife. I wish I could offer you a glimpse
beneath his surface, but that is all I ever knew. But then maybe the
surface was all he wanted to present, and maintaining physical distance
made it easier to maintain emotional distance.
For Stuart's
sake, and for the sake of all those close to me who have passed on,
I really do hope that I am wrong and others are right and that there
is a better place waiting for them somewhere.
Families
are complex structures and death is one event which brings out the complexities
like no other event. Old guilt beats the heck out of everyone. Emotions
are never closer to the surface than times like this. Ancient hurts
and resentments, wait like nerves right under the surface, sensitive
to triggers.
As hard
as it is, we should try to take time to accept ourselves, our pasts,
and be in our present. If possible, we need to try to accept and forgive
our families, and stop choking on the gall.
"...forgiveness
is giving up all hope of having had a different past..
...
families are definitely the training ground for forgiveness. At some
point you forgive the people in your family for being stuck together
in all this weirdness, and when you can do that, you can learn to forgive
anyone. Even yourself, at some point..."
~~Annie Lamotte, Word by Word column, Salon Magazine.