Stephen M. Hannemann

The Gifts

Author: Stephen

Although it has no bow on it, life is a gift. And in our lives, we are blessed with many gifts, and they too have no bows. Health, family, friends, these most often we take for granted — at least when we are young.

This last weekend, my wife Yvonne and I had the bittersweet privilege of being called to aid dear friends in an hour of need, for comfort, and support. Ray and Lori have been special friends of mine for 18 years, and of Yvonne’s from the time we began courting six years ago. We received a call from Ray on Friday evening, notifying us that Lori’s doctor had recommended hospice care following her final round of radiation for an inoperable tumor inside the vertebra of her upper neck. This was not the news we had hoped for. Lori and Ray have bravely battled Lori’s latest bout of demon cancer for over a year. This last tumor reared its head just two months ago, the week after her birthday.

This essay is not to expound on the ravages of cancer or the seemingly unfairness of life, but the gifts of the human spirit, a loving family, the bonds of friendship, and the beauty of love, particularly in circumstances that would seem ripe for justifiable anger.

An exhausted Ray greeted us at the door at 10:30 Saturday evening. In addition to working his computer consulting business, he has been single handedly caring for his bride who now faces the humbling experience of being totally dependant. Although Ray never asked, we knew he needed help. We turned in shortly after we arrived and were up early Sunday morning. For the first time in weeks Ray had the freedom to attend church.

Lori’s sister and husband, Arizona snowbirds, arrived on the scene the day before we did, and already had their fifth wheel nestled next to the house. Yvonne and I made breakfast and reacquainted ourselves with Lori’s sister Sondra and her husband Larry. It never occurred to me that it takes two people to take care of one who is incapacitated. Yvonne and Sondra disappeared at the sound of someone stirring, coming from Lori’s bedroom monitor. An hour later they reappeared with Lori in a wheelchair. Two months ago, Lori would have gotten herself up and wheeled herself into the kitchen and fed herself. But today we are where we are. Although Lori can barely communicate she is aware of everything going on around her and she misses nothing. She receives her care with a graceful dignity and the spirit of love and unity in the home is palpable presence.

I learned much in these past days. For me, this experience reinforced the importance of the family and friendship bond; the importance of not only staying in touch but being in touch. The importance of maintaining, taking time to make sure our relationships are vital, not just a, “hi, how are you?” but being invested. I saw Ray loving his wife in a way that I had never seen before and it made me want again to make sure my Yvonne knows every day that I love her more today than yesterday. It’s gratifying to know we both are stronger because of these last days. I learned no matter how many days we have left in life, we should count each one as a precious gift, and learn all we can, and give all we can. I learned life is about taking what comes and receiving the blessing, although it may be hidden. I found, I learn the most, and receive the greatest gifts during the hunt.

Live Well.

Stephen

© Stephen M. Hannemann — all rights reserved.

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