Arizona Attorney - February 2015

pages so patients can post their comments and the patient’s friends can access the information. (Twitter and Facebook can also be used to communicate effectively.) While it was a little uncomfortable at first, Kathy eventually embraced the concept. The site allowed us to keep everyone informed and provided an outlet while in her hospital room. Her courageous and witty entries helped remind each visitor how lucky they were. (You can see her site at caringbridge.com/ kathydeangelis).

When faced with a prolonged illness or absence, consider using these tools so your loved ones can focus on your care and the care of your family. The response to Kathy’s website was tremendous. She is a wonderfully gifted writer with an “I’m on my deathbed anyway, so why hide anything” approach. Even in a private family, she opened a window for people to peek into our most difficult days.

By mid-March we were out of options. In an act of desperation we decided to proceed with the stem-cell transplant. Kathy’s brother had been identified as a match the previous fall, and he spent a day hooked to a machine that stripped his blood of their stem cells. While Kathy’s fourth round of pre-transplant chemotherapy had reduced her leukemic cells, it did not eliminate them, a key requisite to the treatment plan’s success. On the evening of Monday, March 23, 2009, we watched the nurse add a special IV bag to Bertha. In a quiet and anticlimactic hour, the cells were slowly added to Kathy’s bloodstream. She would remain in the hospital until April 8, when we moved her to my parent’s house to recover.

In early April, the kids and I were alone
for a Saturday afternoon. Kathy was in the
hospital, her mom was in Kansas, and the
nanny had the day off. We had an early
lunch and I laid down to rest with the
instruction that they could watch TV for a
while. I woke up six hours later in a panic,
seeing it was dark outside, not knowing
what time it was or where the kids were. I
rushed into the family room relieved to
find both kids watching a movie. My relief
was short-lived, as I noticed it was an “R”-
rated movie on pay-per-view, access to
which was password-protected. Still trying
to clear my head, I calmly asked how they
accessed the channel. Ryan responded,
“Oh Dad, it’s the same code you and mom
always use.” Reeling, I must have said
something wise such as, “OK, but you are
paying for it,” or maybe Rachel just saw
my expression; before I could say a word,
she handed me five dollars and said, “Ryan
owes you for this one, but here is the
money for mine last night.”
Feeling defeated as a parent, I looked
down, unable to face any more. It was then
that I saw two bowls sitting on the coffee
table. Trying to change the subject, I asked
what they had for dinner. With big smiles,
they cheerfully responded, “Ice cream.”
Of course it was ice cream. It was at that
moment I knew I had lost control and
needed more help.

Caregivers. We could not have survived without the support of my mother-in-law and our nanny, Kaci. We hired Kaci three days after Kathy’s diagnosis. Kaci was an enormous help and will forever be part of our family. There were just too many places for me to be and too many things that needed to be done, all at a time when I had limited capacity to do anything.

Setting up caregivers and other support is difficult to plan for.

However, identifying a short list of
people will greatly assist during the
transition. Kids, pets, business, house-
hold and others who depend on you
must be provided for. For the first six
months, Kathy’s mom took primary
responsibility for Kathy, with the
nanny and I making sure the kids’
lives were disrupted as little as possi-
ble. My day started with getting the
kids to school by 8:00 a.m. After talk-
ing with Kathy, walking the dog, get-
ting dressed and running errands, I
was at the office by 10:00 a.m. I
worked through lunch until about
2: 30 p.m., when I returned home to
assist with the kids or Kathy. After
dinner, Kathy’s mom returned home
and I would either visit Kathy or
return to the office for a few hours.
This worked, until my father-in-
law was diagnosed with inoperable
pancreatic cancer. In March my moth-
er-in-law had to leave her daughter
fighting for her life to return to
Kansas to assist her husband with the
last few months of his life. This was a
blow to our family and stretched me
even thinner. My parents stepped in,
as did Kathy’s aunt and friends, but
the next few months would be our
most trying yet.

Community. The moment word spread about Kathy’s diagnosis, our community jumped in to make sure we were taken care of. Dinners were delivered so often I did not have to cook a meal for nine months. The kids both played competitive soccer, and the entire club showed up one cold evening to watch the parents play coaches as a fundraiser to send Kathy on a vacation to the beach. The school, hospital and cancer support groups all provided resources throughout her treatment. All this renewed my faith in our community. I can never repay or thank everyone who supported us through those years.

Advisers. As a general business and estate planning lawyer I have spent the better part of two decades dealing with the legal emergencies of friends and clients in an unemotional and logical manner. Missing from law school and hundreds of hours of continuing education was information regarding the client’s mental state when faced with a stressful legal situation. As lawyers it is easy for us to dissociate ourselves from our client’s emotional state. However, this often leads to the