In early January of last year (2016), Diana was given only days to live by two doctors at one of the leading hospitals in the Silicon Valley with no hope whatever. A few houses down the road from us resided Julie McCue, a retired hospice nurse, who i’d only met the day after Christmas when another neighbor told me that Julie had helped him through the health-care labyrinth as his wife was waging her final battle against cancer.
On the day Diana arrived at the hospice facility in Sunnyvale, Julie came to see her and in a matter of minutes determined that she was not really dying but merely dehydrated and starving. Julie made known that the hospital’s diagnosis was premature and Diana needed specific treatment to give her a chance at survival and possible recovery.
Predictably, the hospice facility doctor took umbrage at the very idea anyone would call into question his concurring with the hospital’s attending physician — an ex-classmate from medical school. Once Julie advised me on specific legal tactics to force a return trip for re-evaluation, he said that he did not appreciate how Julie “shot from the hip.” My retort was something to the effect, “That might indeed be true but whether shooting from the hip or any other way, Julie can hit the eyes of a hummingbird from 50 yards any day.”
The attending physician at El Camino was hardly delighted to see Diana return saying that i was subjecting her to nearly certain painful death by any attempt to perform surgery but, under California law, they had to perform the surgery. The next morning he had to admit that his misgivings were misplaced and that Diana was, indeed, the fighter i told him she was as she came through the surgery “like a champ.”
(left-to-right) Sunny, Julie and Cliff January 2016
After discharge back to the rehabilitation facility (same one that also provides hospice care mentioned above) where Diana began therapy, the other doctor graciously admitted to having “gotten off on the wrong foot” with Julie and me and, along with the staff of able therapists, did everything possible to aid in potential recovery. Julie had given Diana and me the most priceless gifts: time and renewed hope.
Diana tried her best to recover but some things are beyond reach of mere humans. Still, were it not for Julie, Diana and i would not have had those additional 40 days.
In the weeks and months since, Julie, Cliff and, of course, Sunny became in so many ways closer than many families ever achieve. Over the course of those fourteen months we would have numerous talks about the meaning of life and what being human was all about. Julie’s optimism coupled with tenacity tempered by experience (Diana used to quip about being a graduate of the “School of Hard Knocks” where the class yell is, “Ouch!”) was invariably inspiring.
Sadly, on 21 March 2017, Julie died of cancer. She was 57½ years old.