Tuesday, May 20, 2025

Praying for Peace In Jville

 So my friend Steve had been texting daily updates about his beloved wife Susan, who suffered a devastating stroke in March, while visiting their eldest son and his family in Dallas. After Steve got Susan airlifted back to Miami, I shared a dinner with him and his middle boy Spencer, who I hadn't seen in probably 15 years.

Susan was under the care of our friend Jose, the Chief of UM's Neurology Department, and a world class stroke expert. We were all optimistic that Susan's relative youth, 63, and VERY healthy condition before the CVA, would let her recover.

After a month at Jackson, she still wasn't waking up enough to move to Lynn Rehab, where Wifey had her stroke recovery in 2021. The options were limited -- turns out there are only a few rehab hospitals that take on deep brain injury patients -- and one, Brooks, is in Jville. They transferred Susan there.

The daily updates continued, until a few weeks ago -- Steve said there was relatively little to report, as Susan took, at most, baby steps. Her blinking and maybe saying her daughter's name was a major improvement -- Steve promised to update us with significant developments.

The text I feared came today. He told us all that Susan had been moved to hospice care last night -- despite her long fight, she had nothing more left. He asked us to pray for a "peaceful and soon" transition.

I guess I expected this outcome, but was still shocked. At Steve's last text, I responded that I was more and more into visualization -- focusing one's mind on a hoped for goal -- visualizing my problems from a camera rising far above the fray has been helping me a lot lately.

I told Steve that I was visualizing Susan and him and Wifey and me out to dinner at Captain's Tavern -- not for awhile, but eventually -- debriefing on this nightmarish Spring Susan had suffered, but looking ahead to the manifold blessings brought by our combined 5 adult kids and 4, so far, grandkids.

I guess deep down I feared the outcome that is now upon us -- and I'm very, very, sad.

Steve and Susan are that type of friends who you don't see often, but when you do, even after a year or more, you take up right where you left off. Their focus, like ours, was their family. And Susan was a leader in Child Protection -- along with her boss Walter, one of Barry's friends at UM Peds, they would evaluate and treat and recommend futures for abused children in Miami. Talk about a high calling.

At our last dinner together, Wifey asked Susan if she ever shared the most horrific tales with Steve. Leave it to Wifey to ask the probing questions... I don't recall her answers, but she did tell us that over her 3 decade career, she had seen it all. I thought of Springsteen's line in "Cover Me" -- "I've seen enough I don't wanna see anymore."

I stepped outside before and looked skyward and asked the Big Man to indeed bring peace to Steve, Susan, and their amazing family. The kids live in Dallas, NYC, and Chapel Hill, and Steve has NEVER been without at least one of them by his side. They are a wonderfully close bunch.

If I have to predict, it would be that Susan will pass soon, and her funeral will be after we leave for Europe. I will honor her when we return, in some way -- hers has been a very full life, very well lived, meaningful to many.

When her daughter Erin was taking a lot of time off her Peds Residency -- Steve made her return -- reminding her how proud her Mom was that she was becoming a Pediatrician, and knowing the last thing she'd want is to delay Erin's training.

I guess the only lesson I can take is the one I try to practice -- best said by the late, great Warren Zevon when he was given a terminal cancer diagnosis: enjoy every sandwich. I shall.

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