Roger Ebert’s interview in Esquire magazine has caused quite a commotion, as has Mr. Ebert’s response, especially to the cover photo of the movie critic. Boy, did it home for me.
When I was a little girl, after we’d moved to St. Louis, I remember one ordinary day I was playing in my room with a friend. I saw my girlfriend look up and she looked rather horrified. “Is that your dad?,” she asked. I turned to see a man walking through the family room a short distance away. I turned back fast trying to focus on whatever we were doing, my mind reeling, chills down my legs. It was indeed my father, but I hardly recognized him. He’d been sick, in the hospital, but no one told me why or that he was coming home, let alone that he would return unrecognizable. That was our way. Irish-Scots can be a cruel, deal with it, you’ll get over it lot. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, our unspoken creed. But seeing daddy like that, deformed, marked me. I was just so young. I’ll never forget it.
Dad was caved in. Walking slowly, the stocky pug Irishman I knew, the once handsome dandy, was now skin and bones. The right side of his upper body sunken in, looking as if he’d lost his shoulder blade, his jaw collapsed into his face, too. It was the hardest thing I’d seen in a very young life that had been all too real from way too young an age.
My father never ate a solid item of food again. Mom having to blend everything he ate. Steak, too. Oh, how he hated it. It was a nightmare. The operation that had taken hours and hours had saved him, but he no longer was the man I’d known. But oh, how he fought. He died of a heart attack, but make no mistake about it, cancer killed him.
Huffington Post wrote up Mr. Ebert’s story, too. This is what I posted in the comment section, also posting something similar over at Mr. Ebert’s place:
Keep fighting, Mr. Ebert. I went through this with my parents, long before there were the type of modern miracles science offers today. My father fought like crazy, but back decades ago, the stigma of such radical surgery was overwhelming. The same for my mother, but she kept going for years, made a life for me, for which I’m exceedingly grateful.
Watching my parents, I know first hand the courage it takes to fight invasive illness, but the love of life is fierce, which you certainly have shown.
I’ve followed Mr. Ebert’s health struggles when there is note of them in the papers, just like I’ve followed his movie reviews. My heart going out to him on such a deep level for the strength I know it takes to battle such hideous onslaughts on your body, but also your ego. Mother went through this too, including with people close to her, but somehow, no matter the odds or the horrors inflicted, the human spirit somehow triumphs.
Life is so preciously short. Whatever you’re putting off, do it. This sweet instant is all we’ve got.
This post is dedicated to Martin Bosworth, who died suddenly today at age 35.
Fighting for life is what we do. Some are able by nature to fend off the specter of death for years. Some must combat it from their birth until they succumb, sometimes only seconds of life or less do they know. The lucky ones may live a long and healthy life. It will end at any time. Lucky or not, I hope you: find the joy, seek the good, and do your best.
A very dear friend is awaiting surgery for cancer of her salivary glands, tonsils,and lymph glands along with a mass that is in her mandible. Life is so fragle. Every day I wake up I put it in the win column. If everything moves without hurting to much it’s a blowout. If you love someone tell them, right now. Because we all get one way tickets. Nobody is sure what stop they will get off.
I saw the photo of Mr. Ebert a few days ago and didn’t him at first. I thought it was some cruel photoshop manipulation. Of course when I realized it was Mr. Ebert I was shocked. He and his family definitely are in my prayers.
So sorry about your Dad, Taylor. He had tremendous courage to endure the indignities of the disease. My dad developed Alzheimers at 60 and became an unrecognizable version of that strong, vibrant,handsome and intelligent man that I had known most of my life. He put up a spirited fight against it. The will to live was powerful for him as I know it was for your Dad. Thankfully the cloud of illness has lifted for both of them now. May God bless all of them.
My dad was fourteen when he lost his dad, he was a Presbyterian Minister in Middle Tennessee. it was deep in the Depression, they had nothing.
I lost my other Granddad when I Was 17. I was out of town and unable to go to the funeral. He died in his Real Estate office of a massive cardiac infarction.
I lost my dad to Alzheimer 15 years ago. He was 86.
My mom died after 5 benign brain tumors, various cancers, etc. She was 83.
My sister had a rupture in her intestines, she is still recovering after nearly two years. She is learning to walk. I forgot the extra infections she was given free of charge.
My brother has been a lifelong asthmatic. He is 71 and wheezes a lot. He is having more frequent “senior moments.
My Wife(we are separated, but also best friends), has been in and out of the hospital since October with bile duct stones. She picked up 2 or 4 infections(I lost count) and was readmitted through the ER 5 times. She just went home a couple of days ago. She is doing better. That’s enough I hope.
Among other health issues, I am Stage IV, teeter-tottering to Stage V end stage kidney failure.
If you add all that, and include all of the pain and suffering my family an friends have endured, and I have witnessed and endured myself, the sum compares to a single drop of blood shed by a great deal of humanity every day.
WVMJ, your struggles must be something else.But whatever they are, they’re certainly not less than others.
Secularh, so much for your friend to face. My heart aches for you both.
Thanks for sharing that, nzanh. It was hard, I’m sure.
Martin Bosworth dying so suddenly is such a heartbreak for his family. So sad.
I remember one time hearing the Eagles’ song, the line “In a New York minute, everything can change.”. It was at a time when my damnable intuition had kicked in and I was sensing something horribly wrong.
So many plan too much and act in the moment too little. To change that is to rock your life with possibilities.
Again, thanks so much for sharing such deep feelings. I so appreciate the humanity of what each of you said.
Thank you Taylor you have great compassion.
WVMJ, please be encouraged. With the help and strength of faith, family and community you can get through this. Take care of yourself; you cannot help anyone if you are down and out.
Don’t be afraid to consider counseling/therapy. Especially if you are nearing ESRD.
And, speaking of End Stage Renal Disease, please make sure that you have a good nephrologist that is supportive of what you want to do and how you wish to live. Once dialysis comes into the picture, be aware that you may have different options. Choose what works best for you; make sure you nephrologist has you on a plan that includes kidney replacement therapy.
If you need them, don’t be afraid to demand reasonable accommodations from your employer. The ADA and other states-based disability rights are one of the few things that the legacy parties haven’t messed up. The ADA Amendments Act was actually signed into law by George W. Bush in 2008. So, if you believe your disability rights have been violated, don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself. Because if you do not, no one else will.
Above all, take care of yourself.
Beautiful article on Roger Ebert. Thanks for linking to it Taylor. I would have missed it otherwise.
StephenAG says:
19 February 2010 at 1:37 am
Thanks so much for your comment.
You bet, carrieboberry. Human triumphs in the midst of deadly reality are so important for us all.
Taylor, I have done everything you suggest and more.
I am disabled from another disease. Were it not for my FICA payments I would most likely be on the streets or dead.
I have been able throughout my life to work and play.
I am a man of faith and have more friends that are loving and giving than one could imagine.
Most are not materially wealthy but they have an abundance of joy to share.
I am very lucky.
I have lost track of how many times I have escape death.
My hobby now is speaking truth to power.
I love music, and teaching people to listen to what they hear has been my life work. There is the potential for much healing in music. Live is best. I have served the richest and most famous in the world. I have equally served some of the poorest and unknown.
My family was able to give me some advantages, and I have done OK until I consecutively became ill, lost my job, became poisoned by the rarest of side effects of a medication that was slowly killed me over a 15 month period. After 4 visits to the ER for falls, I fell paralyzed at home all night alone. luckily my friend tried to call, and with no answer, came out and called the Rescue Squad. After weeks in intensive care, and critical care, etc. I began to recover. After that i had to be in a nursing home and learn to walk, and control my bowels within the month that Medicare covered. Less than a year later,I lost my BFF in a collision.
I have a wonderful Doctor and together we have been able to slow my progressing kidney failure. My kidney disease was discovered more than 10 years ago. I am being helped by social services. As I continue to become more impoverished materially, I am enriched by my faith and long ago decided to make the best of it.
Whatever happens to me I will always find the joy, seek the good, and do my best.
And as I said before, the pain and suffering that I have personally witnessed and endured myself is insignificant when compared to the sufferers of violence, the owners of despair, the homeless, the starving, those without safe water, those that cannot obtain medical treatment, those that are maimed in war. Every day.
I have suffered very little of that.
With that in mind, I consider myself rich and most fortunate.
Thank you again for your loving words.
Thatlast post should have been addressed to StephenAG thank you for your compassion and the same goes to Taylor and the rest of you as well.
We will endure.