On May 15, 2012

 

  

Bob and Phil went to Lakeside for Spring clean up and stopped for a milkshake in Bucyrus

Phil is blooming

 Our son Phil had a good friend, Sonja, who was battling breast cancer as he fought glioblastoma. They spent a lot of time talking/texting and she would visit him in his home.  She planted an azaelea tree near her new home when he died, and called it "Phil."  This year Spring is early, and it's throwing out a lot of color. She writes:

“Phil” is coming along…I can’t help but think he may be holding out for Sunday to be in his full glory, which, of course, would bring another round of tears to my eyes, as that will be 4 years since he was called home.

 
Not a single day goes by that I don’t want to share something with him that I saw, heard or experienced, to hear his wisdom, and/or laughter, on whatever it was that I wanted to share…I really miss my dear friend a lot…sigh."

 

One of my favorite photos

 This came up as a reminder for July 31, 2010 on Facebook today.

Using dogs in cancer research

We watched a repeat of 60 minutes tonight that included a segment on how dogs and humans share many genes and cancer research in dogs is helping humans. Cancer is actually more common in dogs, so there are more subjects for research. I was happy to see that glioblastoma (brain tumor) is also one of the cancers being studied. Our son Phil died 3 years ago of glioblastoma, and he loved dogs. After his Lab Rosa died, he began a pet sitting side gig. This cancer's treatment has been stuck (in my opinion) in slash, burn and poison for probably 60 years with little progress, so life expectancy is still about 6 months to a year when the tumor is found at stage 4.

Trial cancer treatments for dogs could lead to breakthroughs for humans (msn.com)

What's that fishy smell? Salmon

We had salmon for lunch. I came in from a walk to the store, and thought Yikes, it still smells fishy in here, so I got out an air freshener and now it smells really strange. But that brought back a memory of our son Phil who died in April 2020. We had let him and a group of buddies use the cottage for a few days here at Lakeside. While we were driving back we called about an hour out and told him when we'd arrive, hoping to catch a few minutes with him. When we got to the cottage, the young men were gone. And there was a very odd but familiar perfumy smell in the house. And there were strange spots on the walls. It took me a while, but I figured out that Phil had put the guys in high gear to get everything cleaned up before we arrived, and although they knew our rule was no smoking in the house, they did. Someone had grabbed a can of furniture polish thinking it was air freshener. . . and thus the odd smell and drips on the walls. In the file folder of memories of Phil, not sure where to put that one.

Public service announcement: lots of air fresheners and room deodorizers (and probably scented candles) contain chemicals not good for our lungs, so I rarely use them. Also not good for your pets.

                                    Phil's selfie of his feet and Lake Erie

The last day, September 30, 2019

With the change to my new computer and Windows 11, some of my e-mail folders didn't transfer, but I don't know why.  Fortunately, some old letters I wanted to keep did, and I found one from our very last day of life as we knew it.  September 30, 2019.  The next day our son Phil had 2 seizures, was hospitalized and diagnosed with stage 4 glioblastoma. But when I wrote this his life and ours was continuing as usual, not knowing what was to come. 

"We’ve been eating dinner on our lovely deck almost every evening since we returned to Columbus on Labor Day, but it just may be too warm this evening.  We’ve also been enjoying sleeping with the windows open, but that will probably not work tonight. I love hearing the train in the distance. 

I’m learning all the buttons and features for my new car, a white 2019 Pacifica, which is the most recent version of the Chrysler van.  It has keyless entry which is very nice, but I have to be careful.  I’d love to have that feature on my house door for when I’m carrying in the groceries. We’re still waiting to get the owner’s manual, and don’t know what some of the bells and whistles are for.  I can look on-line but there are 718 pages, so I don’t want to print the manual.  We also have a free subscription to Sirius radio, but it seems now days you need a smart phone in order to live in our society, so I’ll have to wait until Phoebe has time. And for the umpteenth time the street is torn up and we have no water.  I’m not sure why Kenney Rd. has so many problems, but it does. 

Last night we had our UALC Bible study group here for a meeting and dessert—pumpkin pie and ice cream.  It’s such a nice gathering, and I always enjoy them.  Howard and Betty are leaving Thursday for Ireland, and both have significant health challenges. Two years ago they went to Scotland and arrived in the U.S. (Houston) during the hurricane, and were stranded there for 5 days.  Dave and Donna used Phil as their dog sitter last month, and were so thrilled, she just gets weepy when she talks about him.  She said she didn’t know a bachelor could keep his home so clean, and their dog just loved him. David had tripped on a curb when getting his driver’s license renewed, and had a black and blue face. We celebrated his 81^st birthday.  One member will be having surgery for liver cancer and her first grandchild around the same time.  And Sunday School class is similar. We have about 40 and a goodly number are 70+.  Lots of changes going on at church, which is always hard on the older folk who like things to stay the same. 

And we’ve had several deaths.  Our best man in our wedding, Tom Moir, of Indianapolis died in late August so we drove there on the 4^th for the funeral.  He’d been a part of Bob’s life since elementary school. We also went out for lunch with some other guys from their "Slobs" high school group. We had a really good visit with Bob’s family and spent the night in their new “shared” home (4 generations). A busy place with 3 dogs.  

We went out for our anniversaries and my birthday with Phoebe and Mark.  Had a lovely time at a restaurant in Grandview. On Saturday Phil and I went back to our old neighborhood and had lunch at the Chef-o-Nette.  When she was in kindergarten and Phil in pre-school, he and I used to go there, grab a snack and then pick her up at the school across the street. 

Bob’s brother is recovering from his emergency intestinal surgery in August while they were travelling to California from Arizona, and when Bob called recently he was vacuuming which we thought was a good sign. It’s been a very slow turning around. 

We’ve got a nice trip coming up on October 9, but mainly here in central Ohio. It’s with our Conestoga group, which sometimes means a little walking or stairs, so I’ll just have to see how that goes.  Sometimes old, historical buildings don’t have elevators. 

Stay safe—and cool."

Sonja remembers February 9, 2020 with Phil

Sonja wrote on Facebook today: I miss my Philly B with every beat of my heart-he was the best friend a girl, like me, could ever ask for. [She was going through treatment for breast cancer and he for brain cancer. Her close friend Annie had just died of kidney cancer. All were members of UALC.]
2 years ago, this day, as he was in the battle for his life against Glioblastoma, his concern was for me, and my shattered heart on losing Annie, that is how Phil was.

 
The following are our text messages from the 9 & 10th of February 2020 [not included here] …I still treasure them to this day. He also “demanded” we take a picture together, which we then laughed and laughed, as we came up with the name for us “The Egg Heads”.

 
I went down and spent the 9th with him and then again, the following day, before I had radiation, as the Glioblastoma was kicking his ass, we ran some errands together, then picked up a pizza, and had lunch together. As we sat across the table from each other, we had a conversation that no besties should ever have, one of dying, it is still too personal for me to share, but it guts me every time I think of it…lots of beautiful silences, lots of tears, and most of all lots of pure love, that only two true friends can have for each other.

 
Phil made everything ok for me, he was my rock, a source great wisdom for me, my sounding board, and also my source of great belly laughs, especially when he would call me after work, and we would watch “Emergency” together. He had the biggest heart in the world, and it was also an ornery heart, which is probably why we were besties-ha! Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him…

Valentines Day is always hard, because that became [our] day, not for the reasons you would think, but because it was the day that we reconnected, oh so many years ago, and he “introduced” me to his meaning of it (and no, I won’t share that either, but it is hilarious), so every Valentine’s Day after that, he would wish me a “Happy VD Day” (and again, not what you think).

 
Damn, I miss him, I miss Annie…I hate February, I just hate it, and I hate it more that these 2 important people to my heart, have now been gone for 2 years. F*ck Cancer, just f*ck it to Hell, where it belongs.

Advice for cancer patients

 Yesterday I decided to repack some of Phil's things in nicer boxes, and then to put the sympathy, get well, and thinking of you cards, notes and letters inside the boxes. There were well over 200 of those.  Of course, then I had to pause and reread them, which is sort of kick in the stomach, but I remember the comfort they brought us in the Spring of 2020 and when he died in April.  One is particularly worth sharing because it's good advice for cancer patients.  It's from his cousin who is 12 years older and was a great help to us in filing the paper work for social security disability (although the first check didn't arrive until after he died).

"I was hoping to be able to find words of strength and encouragement that I could share as you deal with all your health challenges.  But it's hard to find anything profound and helpful to say, though I wish I could.  I had cancer five years ago and it's a long, lonely journey in many respects--no one else can really understand what you're going through, even when someone has had cancer themselves. So I mostly just wanted to tell you to hang in there, keep fighting, and don't shut people out.  I wanted to do everything alone, and just be alone, and in retrospect I wish I'd let more people in and had been able to be more welcoming of the support.  At least more welcoming of the food people offered that we kept turning down!

My one cancer survival tip is to tell you to laugh every chance you can get--not an easy task on the days when it's hard to even get out of bed but it's worth creating every possible opportunity to do so.  For months I watched only comedies and comedy specials on TV.  I rented ridiculous movies, watched every stand-up comedian I could find, and went to every funny movie I could go to.  I was the only thing I enjoyed while going through treatment.  I'm sure the endorphins that laughter produces helped--but mostly it just felt like an escape and respite from doctors and hospitals and all the people hovering over me and all the cancer talk.

Completely unrelated but I also, for some reason, enjoyed putting together jigsaw puzzles--although not sure that's something you'd like.  I sounds pretty old-fashioned and dull (although as the most elderly of the Corbett cousins I'm sure it's my duty to share old-fashioned ideas), but I found it very soothing.  I was such a concrete and orderly thing to do, when everything else seem chaotic and out of control--I knew how to start with the edges, how to organize the colors, how to finish, how to rip it up when I was done.  And best of all I could do it even when my brain was foggy."

And she included Rolling Stone's list of the 25 funniest movies of all time.