Chapter 31, 2007 Most Significant Moments

Chapter 31, 2007 Most Significant Moments
Alex Graduates
My first child is graduating high school. This is an emotional time for any parent, but for me there is so much more meaning attached to the occasion just because I am here to witness it when no one, including myself, was sure I would be. Elyria Catholic is a small school. Alex's graduating class consists of 140 students or less, a nice size for a graduation ceremony in terms of the time it takes to hand out all the diplomas. Our out of town visitors are my parents from Minnesota and Alex's Godmother Jeanne from Chicago. They, along with me, Mike, Katie, Frankie, Mike's parents, Mike's Mom's friend Chuck all attend the Commencement.
One of the nicest segments of their ceremony comes at the end where each student is given a previous opportunity to tape their favorite quote, saying, or to just say hello and thank you to their parents or teachers for all they've done for them. Some of the recordings were funny while others were tearful and meaningful. Alex's quote dealt with the people you meet in your life; some of them are meant to help you, or to hurt you, or lift you up bringing you to exactly the place you are supposed to be in your life. At the end she thanked me for inspiring her. This was an emotional, overpowering moment for me because of the circumstances of my health, one that I'll never forget.
The day before the graduation we had Alex's graduation party. My Mom, Mike's Mom. Jeanne, my friend Cindy and I all worked hard preparing the food for the celebration. As usual our party guests consisted of neighbors, friends, relatives, in addition to many of Alex's classmates. It started at two and lasted until 11:00. We were exhausted by the end of the day, but Jeanne, and our Mother's stayed and cleaned until every last dish was washed. I was happy to have the party behind us so we could enjoy the rest of the summer attending other graduation parties.
The Fourth Anniversary of my Terminal Diagnosis
June 21, 2007, I've now lived two years longer than originally predicted. Our yearly celebration has become almost common place. We still celebrate and cherish the moment but you can tell that no one is as worried as we were originally. The only time I struggle is the three week interval after each chemo session for 4 to 5 days following the therapy, the first day being the worst followed by improvements everyday up through the 5th day. While I'm in the middle of the negative side effects I can't say that this journey is easy. These are the times I ask myself, "How much longer can I do this?" But then I feel better for a few weeks which gives me the mental courage and strength to push on.
The clinical trial that I am on is going to be closing. It hasn't had the success the drug company hoped for. This was a worldwide level II study done in several countries with a few hundred or more people and I am the only one that the drug has worked for. They are going to make the medicine just for me. Isn't that great? Not just that they are making the drug just for me, but that I'm the last one standing, so to speak. This gets me to thinking, why me? Is it just that I'm genetically disposed for this particular drug to work on my body? That is what many, perhaps most, physicians would say, but in my mind, I wonder if the actions I have taken are contributing to my prolonged existence.
Is it that I have a great desire to live because my kids were so young when I was diagnosed? Or, that my attitude is positive with the fact that I do have some control over how long I can last, or how long I can put up with all of this, because that is a big piece of the puzzle. Perhaps it has to do with the change in my eating habits, gearing them toward healthy choices; including fruits, vegetables, complex carbohydrates and lean proteins. I don't drink heavily, do drugs or smoke cigarettes, this is an obvious plus. I would argue that participating in Yoga has helped me learn to breathe deeply and relax, therefore bringing additional oxygen into my body to help the healing process. Practicing meditation has proved helpful in giving me mental strength by visualizing the uplifting outcomes I want for my body. And the power of prayer gives me confidence in less secure, dark moments. Last, but not least, I do not discount the medicine; if I did I wouldn't be doing it.
I don't claim to know exactly why I'm still here while others have passed. Their will to live may have been just as strong as mine and perhaps they made many of the same types of changes to no avail. I'm not an expert. The feeling in my heart pushes me toward the path that I am currently on. I continue to pray for guidance in traveling down the right road for my health.
The Death of one of my best friends
Della Garcia was a good friend from the time that I met her in 1985 until her death in 2007. If you recall from an earlier chapter Della was Mike's client and friend first, but soon after we met she became my friend, client and confidant.
She was an Administrative Assistant and jack of all trades to the founder and CEO of Information Resources, Inc. in Chicago, Illinois, a company she started working for in the late 70's when they had just seven people. By the 80's this little company employed hundreds of workers and went public. Della's job also included purchasing office furniture to the tune of millions of dollars. She not only held this full time position which she worked tirelessly at, but took care of the CEO's properties in Chicago, Florida and Aspen, arranging for them to be cleaned, stocked with food for incoming visitors and taking care of needed repairs, etc., all of this for a hefty salary, and stock options. This woman was an absolute perfectionist and there weren’t many that could hold a candle to her. She wasn't the most popular person because she demanded flawlessness from everyone she dealt with including Mike and me but Mike's a perfectionist and I'm a pleaser so we all worked well together.
I forgot to add that In addition to her work, she lived at home, still single at 40 and took her mother to dialysis three times a week at some ungodly early hour of the morning. I don't know how she did it. All of my friends seem to be hard working, nose to the grindstone, overachievers. The way I pick a friend or a mate, I might add, is first by admiration. I see something in them that perhaps I don't see in myself, a quality that I'd like to have and then we just seem to balance one another out because I'm usually good at things that they are not. This practice seems to work in a marriage or a friendship.
After the company Della worked for went public and she suffered the loss of her mother she began to change her life and her priorities. The founder of the company left his position to become a board member and she gained a new boss, one that she did not care for as much. The love she had for the job eventually faded and she decided to quit. She wanted to do something that brought her more meaning. She found herself accepting a position at the Salvation Army in disaster relief, for a fraction of her previous salary. True to form she worked diligently at the new job putting in just as many hours or more. There are not many people that would give up the lavish lifestyle she enjoyed to help others. If this woman wasn't already on a pedestal she was now. She also, as she put it, finally found love in this late stage of life. He was an officer in the Army. They worked side by side for a few years before they fell in love and married.
Della started losing weight and was constantly racked with thirst. After many tests she was told she had Diabetes. Within a few years she herself had to go on dialysis. Her health continued to deteriorate. After experiencing persistent abdominal pain it was discovered that she had a stage four cancer in her intestines, a large mass which they were able to remove but she needed a colostomy. Once that surgery was complete she had nothing but problems. The colostomy bag backed up to the point that she was full of feces, as she said, they had to steam clean her out and leave her open and exposed to heal. After all that she still had a sense of humor.
They had to wait so long to do chemo that it became futile. We talked often from the time she was diagnosed up to her death, which was just nine months. I was upbeat with my support during our discussions always encouraging her to hold on, but I think she was just tuckered out and tired of fighting a body riddled with disease. My heart was broken upon her death, the only comfort I felt was that she was finally at peace and could rest because she rarely did that when she was alive.
Her funeral was small. There was her husband of ten years, her family of course, two brothers with their families, one sister with her husband and Della's father. Many people were there from the Salvation Army including some of the people she helped get off the streets into jobs or treatment programs. My friend Jeanne accompanied me, Mike and the girls along with Mike and Della's friend Dirk, a previous coworker and short time love interest of Della's. The homeless people she helped got up and spoke about how she changed their lives for the better. I wanted to come forward and speak about what she meant to me but I was too distraught.
Reconnecting with old friends
While we were in Chicago for the memorial service I felt it was important to reconnect with an old friend. For me, funerals cause reflection on the past and the people of significance that have come in and out of my life. Because I was dealing with my own mortality, I wanted to reconnect with a particular friend I hadn't seen in a few years. This friend's name is Annette. We met when I was running a small office sharing company on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. We rented individual offices out to small business owners or start up territory offices while providing them with secretaries and receptionists.
Annette was an entrepreneur who needed space for her company. We connected immediately. She is an industrious, energetic, tiny little woman with bright eyes, a big smile and an entertaining laugh. Most small business owners come with a type "A" personality and she was no different. They are efficient, they want things done a certain way, they are accomplished, and they are gutsy enough to go out and start their own business. Most of my clients were entrepreneurs and because of these traits could be a challenge to work with and for. I believe it's because they have everything on the line in terms of financial obligations. Annette, however, was a delight. She demanded a great deal from herself but she was respectful and considerate of others. We got along famously. Our offices were right across the hall from one another so we had the opportunity to get to know each other well.
A perfect, hilarious story to describe why I love Annette is as follows; It was a sunny Chicago morning, she was walking down the street in her, as she puts it, typical type "A" walk, fast and efficient, head held high with shoulders back when a guy approached her from behind, tapping her shoulder, saying, "Ma'am", she thought he wanted money or a conversation which she didn't have time for so she politely smiled, nodded, sped up her gate and continued on. The gentleman was persistent in getting her attention. She finally in a politically correct, yet curt way, asked, "What?" He said, "I'm sorry but your dress is stuck in your panty hose with a tail of toilet paper hanging down to the ground." She gasped in horror, pulled out her dress, threw the toilet paper down, thanked the man and practically sprinted down the busy Michigan Avenue.
We were fortunate enough to sit down and have lunch with one another, going over old stories from our past and thoughts of the future. Mike and the girls joined us for the light conversation and laughter. The smiles and warmth I experienced during our meal were a stark contrast to the funeral from the day before. Each experience, however, was equally important.
Alex Goes to College
I imagine it is a tearful emotional time when anyone of your kids leaves for college, but when it's your oldest child you have the additional experience of the "first time" so you don't know what emotions to expect. It is late September 2007 and we are packing up to take Alex to Ohio State. She has been chomping at the bit to get out of this town because most of her counterparts have already left for the schools of their choice. Alex and her Father have been purchasing dorm room accessories all summer to prepare her for this moment.
The car is packed in typical Mike Wetzel fashion, perfectly organized with every single item in the right place. Once the car is packed, the rest of us pile into the car for the two hour trip. Most kids will be arriving at school on Sunday, but Mike pays an additional nominal fee so Alex can move in on Saturday to beat the rush. We arrive to a hustle bustle of other parents and kids beating the rush as well, unloading cars, waiting for moving bins, riding up and down in slow moving elevators until every last bit of her belongings are in her 11th floor room.
Alex's roommate Chelsea is also already in the room unpacking with her parents putting away clothes, making beds, installing computer equipment and so on. There is little room for all of us to navigate, but after we introduce ourselves we make do with the room until every last item is unpacked and stored away in the right place. Inevitably, we have forgotten a few small items here and there so we jump in the car and head for Target. This place is a zoo populated with the rest of the college world and their parents doing the same thing. I can just hear the simulated totaling of cash registers as the monies spent just keep racking up. Yes, that's me, always thinking about the almighty dollar.
Back at the dorm Mike works his computer and printer magic, swearing and cussing under his breath because the "mother fuckers" as he so eloquently puts it, are not working. Much time is spent on this project until we are exhausted by the work and the late hour. I am especially tired and sick because I had chemo the day before, but I try to rally and stay focused because this is such a monumental time in all of our lives. The labor is done! It is time for us to leave Alex behind and go home. Leave this girl who at three would not let go of my neck, kicking and screaming on her first day at pre-school, or at five, pulling on my arms begging me not to make her stay on her first day of kindergarten. It is almost a good thing that I feel so physically ill, because it is overpowering the emotional pain of letting her go.
The drive home is silent either with reminiscing thoughts or with sleep. The realization of Alex not being around brings a few silent tears to my eyes. On one hand there is a feeling of happiness to see my first born venturing off to this new chapter in her life, but on the other hand, I know I'll miss seeing her around the house, working out, sitting on the couch, watching her study and sharing an early morning or late night conversation.
Advice
Cherish a sad moment as well as a happy one; it's all about you being there in the moment
Reach out to others in need of your help. You never know who you are going to help motivate, or be motivated for that matter
Keep your eyes on the prize, a graduation, seeing your children leave the nest or the simple possibility of seeing another day
Believe in your own choices and put all your strength and courage toward them
See an old friend, especially one that has brought you enjoyment