Shirlee is dying.
Shirlee is my sister-in-law, and I love her.
She sent us a letter yesterday, an email actually, but that's how things are done these days. She isn't circling the drain yet, she says, but she is now on the high end of the exit ramp. That's how Shirlee is. A day at a time. Every day is a gift. Thank God for Bruce, and for Lydia and Deirdre. The four of them rank very high on my list of favorite people in the universe. On Corky's list, too.
Back in 2010 or thereabouts Shirlee was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer. It didn't look good; pancreatic cancer never does. Being the sure-let's-try-it person she is (and a researcher at heart) Shirlee got in with an experimental treatment regimen at the University of Iowa where she worked, and what do you know it worked. When we saw her for Thanksgiving 2010 she was gaunt with a bad to uncertain prognosis. By 2011 she was back on her feed and looking much better; in 2012 she was positively chipper. The doctor said, we can't say the cancer is in remission, but it certainly is not doing anything interesting. Each of those Thanksgivings I told her we'll be back here next Thanksgiving and it would be considerate of you still to be alive. (I still have a hard time splitting infinitives.)
But as 2013 rolled in, the cancer metastasized. The original tumor is still a rather uninteresting mass but the bits of crap have spread all over her body, in her lungs, in her bones, in her everywhere. Thanksgiving was a sober visit. The year before Shirlee had driven us all over the place, making sure I had interesting places to shoot. This time I was the chauffeur, though we mostly stayed around the house. We did manage to get to John's Grocery, aka Dirty John's, to lay in a stock of craft beer for Thanksgiving. (I got Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada for my hosts, a local brew for myself. Why take the Amtrak all the way from Rochester to Iowa only to drink the same beer I would drink at home?)
As Bruce and I drove out to pick up Shirlee's and Corky's mom, Bruce openly talked post-Shirlee. It is not going to be easy. Irene, at least, was looking much better for being out of her apartment and into a home where she eats well and regularly. She was definitely getting around better than last time we saw her. A bit delusional, but such things happen. She brought a box of photographs for her and the girls (meaning Corky and Shirlee) to go through. Shirlee was quite happily in giving things away mode.
When we left this time it was, We'll see you next Thanksgiving, sooner if necessary. I'm not making any promises, said she.
Shirlee is dying. It seems that sooner if necessary is becoming a lot sooner than expected.
She has Hospice care now, with a walker, an oxygen aggregator, and and a cane to poke everyone with. She says, You'd never know anything was wrong until I try to stand up and walk.
Corky will get out there some time or other. I'll follow when I can.
That first Thanksgiving I took along the Welta Weltur that Dad gave me before he and Mom moved to assisted living in 2009. I took it plus, as I remember, the Holga 120N and the Agfa Shur-Shot and a bag of 120 film with which to feed them. When I showed Shirlee the Weltur she went rummaging in a drawer and pulled out her old Yashica-D. I promptly put a roll of film through it. "Shirlee's Vase" is from that first roll of TMax 400.
As we were leaving, Shirlee handed me the camera. You'll use it more than I will, she said. That I have. Though I still shoot with the Weltur and the Holga Pinhole and the Argus Brick, the Yashica-D is the one I keep going back to. It fits my hand and my eye. I see better when I"m holding it. I like shooting those huge six centimeter square negatives.
I took the Yashica-D with me last Thanksgiving, but I couldn't quite bring myself to shoot with it. I shot with the Weltur instead, The photo at the top of the page was with it. I used the Holga, too, on the trips trips there and back again.
When I go out to Iowa next time, I'll take along just the Yashica-D and use it to celebrate the most wonderful and joyful and one-eyebrow-raising Shirlee.
Thanks for the camera, Sister.
