Prepare and Hope

When Gwen was originally diagnosed with cancer she was told by her doctors that she had a likelihood of living from nine months to a year.  She refused to believe that, and opted instead for what Dr. Kalemkarian at The University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center told her:  "Probabilities are for statisticians, when it comes to individuals we must consider only possibilities."  Her daughter Anne, upon hearing this, asked her mother to go for five more years, a goal she came within five months of achieving.(In her eulogy to her mom Anne ruefully reflected that she wished she had asked for ten year.) Certainly chemotherapy and radiation treatments contributed to Gwen's ability to enjoy those years with a reasonable quality of life.  Above and beyond that, simply put; she had an indomitable spirit.  As her children so eloquently stated in her obituary:  "Refusing to let life after cancer define her, she chose to cope with her disease the way she lived her life; with undaunted strength, unshakable courage, limitless hope and her characteristic, unflappable good cheer." 

Because of her background and years of service as a nurse, Gwen was realistic about her disease.    She was always anxious to learn what other treatment options might be available.  She knew that her ability to maintain hope was hinged to her ability to remain physically strong and active for as long as she could. During the winter of 2009 she participated in a program a the YMCA called Live Strong, sponsored by the Lance Armstrong Foundation.  I was fortunate to participate in the program with her, and also saw the value of preparing for the worst while hoping for the best.  This is a poem about that:

PREPARE FOR THE WORST
HOPE FOR THE BEST

It’s a healthy thing to do,

preparing for the worst,

riding my exercise bike

with its heavy, steel flywheel

and automatic speedometer

that counts the miles I’ve

travelled from where I began

to where I remain;

and the only change in scenery

is The View on the TV.

It’s a healthy place to be,

hoping for the best,

riding my fancy bike

around the circle of life

with my group of friends

who tell their stories

and cry their tears

and laugh out loud;

as we mourn the missing

and celebrate those who remain.

John A. Bayerl,  September, 2010

I attended a bereavement group this morning.  The task we face in the group is not that different from the one Gwen taught me to face as her caregiver--how to remain grounded and somewhat stationary while at the same time learning to ride hopefully around the circle of life. There is a painful difference;  no matter which bike I ride, I ride it alone. And, I mean no disrespect to my many friends. And, I remember and try to emulate this about my perfect partner. . . ." undaunted strength, unshakable courage, limitless hope and her characteristic, unflappable good cheer."