Cancer-Free

I have been in Atlanta for the last nine days, helping my brother-in-law give home hospice care to his dear wife, Jean. She died yesterday and, having stood watch, I realize that when people talk about a “valiant fight,” they are not just using clichés. This has been such an honor, but an excruciating one.

Most of my small readership knows that Jean was diagnosed with her cancer last spring, had surgery that the doctors thought would buy her a few years, but within ten weeks, it had metastasized. Since then their lives have been consumed by medical procedures and increasing physical pain. Therefore, when the time was right two weeks ago, they elected home hospice care with no medical support systems except for pain control. Each day Rod, Sheri, the hospice nurses and I (and on the last day, our special duty nurse, arrived just in time from Africa, Robin) faced a different set of challenges for her care. I myself had to master a whole new vocabulary and a whole set of practical skills for which working in a Writing Center has not prepared me. I can’t say that I was an especially good learner.

Everyone is special. I know that. And most are loved. But Rod and Jean and their kids and now grandkids form an unusual circle of Christian family love in this coarse culture of ours. The nurse in charge of Jean’s care said, “I wish that all my families…” and then she stopped. Then she said, “This family has been such a blessing to me.” (The extraordinary people who make up hospice staff could be the subject of another post.)

She was not the only one to speak the truth yesterday. When I called Karen to tell her, she said through her tears, “I am not ready for this.” And then she asked, “Is Aunt Jean cancer-free?” It was through my own tears that I responded, “Yes, Aunt Jean is cancer-free.”