I recently took off a month from work at UC San Francisco. It wasn't because I accrued a lot of vacation or went on a sabbatical.
It was for my father-in-law's death.
Eloy Rodriguez, 76, passed away from complications related to cancer on May 15. He had been battling the disease at length, beginning with a bout of prostate cancer several years ago. That battle he won, but there came another fight in early 2014 with a tumor located near his sciatic nerve. Daily radiation over several weeks had lessened the pain, but little did we know what lie ahead.
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| Let's Dance! |
The night of May 1, his daughter Erica and I were notified by her mom that it would be wise to make a 2,000-mile one-way flight to Harlingen, Texas, from San Francisco. He was in the hospital for a blood clot in his leg, but the mother-in-law had an intuition something was wrong. So did Erica.
We arrived May 3 and went straight to the hospital before even dropping our bags off at home. The father-in-law was resting comfortably, propped up and upset with mom that she had asked for us to come. But, as Erica quickly noticed, that "sparkle" in his eyes was gone.
Just two days later, our worst fears were confirmed - the cancer was metastatic and had spread throughout the body. The sarcoma was at Stage IV, and instead of eliminating the clot, then rehab and additional radiation treatments, it was time for palliative care and hospice to enter the picture.
Of course, the doctors proposed that Eloy had up to six months to live. But no one really knew. What we did know was that he no longer wanted to fight. He was a proud man who didn't want others to see him suffer and have to care for him.
His only request? No pain.
In fact, my father-in-law began planning his funeral, asking - and humbling - me to give a eulogy. There were the pallbearers, honorary pallbearers, funeral home, interment site and more. There also were the financial accounts and other issues to handle once he passed.
Two weeks after that Stage IV diagnosis, he was buried at the
Rio Grande Valley State Veterans Cemetery in Mission with full military honors.
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| Eloy's gravesite on a typical sunny Rio Grande Valley day |
The deterioration was incredible. Within just a few days of our arrival, he grew weak and could barely talk. Seemingly hours later, he lost motor function and was unable to move. Then, he was gone.
Along with the doctors, nurses and support staff at Valley Baptist Medical Center were an army of friends and family who provided continual care, all the while ensuring there would be no pain. His wife and his daughter began 'round-the-clock vigils.
My job? Be strong and provide humor and laughter to break up the somber scene playing out before us.
Finally, at 1:12 a.m. on May 15, he took his last breath. Three days later came the rosary, for which I was honored to provide the following eulogy:
Eulogy for
Eloy Rodriguez
The
obituary reads, “Eloy Rodriguez was born July 28, 1938, in Raymondville, Texas,
and went to be with the Lord on May 15, 2015…Eloy was definitely a force to be
reckoned with. He accomplished so much during his 76 years, personally and
professionally.”
Those
accomplishments included acquiring a son-in-law: me!
I’m
Scott Maier, son-in-law to his only child, his daughter Erica. I’m very
fortunate to have her – and legally – as he continually reminded me that I
“stole” her from him. I tried to point out that now he had a son, too, but to
no avail. To him, a bank president, I was just another person now on his
“payroll.”
I
remember the first time I met Eloy back in fall 1999. It was the often dreaded
“meet the parents” visit, especially as a young man where you picture seeing the
father with a shotgun and list of rules for you to follow for dating his precious little
girl.
Instead,
I was met with a firm handshake, a smile, and a welcome inside. He showed me
his model toys and collection of hats. A hat collector myself, I tried one on.
Oh no! Would that be my demise? Nope, or I wouldn’t be here today. (wear hat for effect)
Less
than a year later, Erica and I were married, and for the next 15 years – more
than a third of my life – he was a constant. A constant pain in the neck at
times. For some reason, he never would stop calling me “Clarence.” Maybe he
didn’t want to confuse me with my uncle, Scott Williamson.
Oh,
the adventures we had during this time. He and his loving wife Blanche helped
the two of us move throughout Texas on several occasions and came up to visit
nearly each location.
One
of the first moves was from McAllen to Denton in 2002 for Erica to attend the
University of North Texas. The effort involved loading up a U-Haul, with him
the driver, Erica the passenger, and Blanche and I tagging behind in my car.
There were some laughs and some curses along the way, but when we arrived 13
hours later, he had earned the nickname “The General” for leading the way.
But
we didn’t just hang out in Texas, either. There was New Orleans and Memphis
with my sister Melanie. The countless trips to Vegas, though he never won and
each time we left vowed to never return again. New York City to see his
daughter run the New York City Marathon – something he shared not only as a
father but also as a runner and marathoner himself.
The
trip to Denver for the Great American Beer Festival – that one we get him on camera
a year earlier at a Texas brewery saying he’d pay for the airfare. That’s no
small feat for someone who always was asking, “How much is this gonna cost?” or
“How did I get conned into this?”
Yes,
I had my occasional run-in with my “farucking” father-in-law. He could be
stubborn as a mule. Once, he pushed my buttons a little too far when we were
loading up to leave their Harlingen house. I snapped and flung a bag into the
air, and Erica and I left in disdain. Tears were shed, words were said, but it
– like all the other scuffles – were soon forgotten.
In
fact, Eloy and I played off each other all the time, much to the surprise –
even shock – of family and friends. “God, you’re so ugly?” “When are you gonna
pay?”
Because of my sweet tooth, he continually rolled his eyes every time I
ordered dessert at dinner or asked to stop at Dairy Queen or a raspa stand.
“You’ll get diabetes,” he said. Well, Dad, this one’s for you! (take bite of candy bar)
Eloy
loved being the center of attention, and he can be no more in the center than
now. But let’s not think about his final weeks in the hospital battling a
horrible disease that took him from us. Instead, let’s all focus on the good
times and memories we had with him and keep them in our “memory bank” – see the
banker’s reference I threw in there?
Eloy
Rodriguez will be missed, and we’re all better for knowing him. I am forever
blessed for having two fathers who love me very much.
We’ll
meet with him again someday. But for now, be comforted knowing he is looking
down on us, shaking his head and asking – “How much is this funeral gonna cost?”
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| Rio Grande Valley State Veterans Cemetery |
Throughout it all, both Erica and her mom were tough as nails. They had come to accept his passing, but change is never easy in realizing your father for 38 years and your spouse for 51 years would never come through those doors in his Harlingen home again. We even bought an adjustable bed and prepared the front of the house for his possible return so he could pass in peace, but the effort was in vain.
As a public information officer for academic health institutions for more than a dozen years, I visit hospitals on a regular basis. Sometimes, it's to assist with a media query. Other times, it's to meet with a doctor on upcoming media opportunities. Or, it's a chat with a patient for a marketing or homepage profile.
Among the beats I cover is palliative care and hospice. In fact, the week I left, we released an
announcement I had written that UCSF would be collaborating with a Bay Area hospice, Hospice by the Bay.
Now, I was on the other side - a family member of a patient. I could see the challenges facing the patient, the family, and the doctors. It's one thing to visit the hospital for a standard operation or basic inpatient care. But how do you provide the best care for someone you know will leave the hospital only when the funeral home collects the body? It was both fascinating and emotionally draining.
The fact Eloy had cancer also jarred in Erica and I the recent Ken Burns documentary on PBS -
Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies. The three-day, six-hour journey based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning book by Siddhartha Mukherjee examined the various aspects of cancer, with one common thread - while we know more about it than ever before, a cure or treatment eludes us more than ever before. The bastard always remains one step ahead.
Indeed, we have joined the millions of others affected by this devastating disease, either directly or indirectly, in making the cry, "Fuck cancer!" But it is not the first time.
In early November 2014, my stepsister Sherry Kozlowski passed away after her cancer rapidly spread. The 6-year-old daughter of my best friend Jason Gabriel,
Charlotte, has undergone extensive chemotherapy for acute leukemia. And there are others.
The only good thing, Erica said, was that the cancer would die with her dad.
But blessings can be found even in the darkest times. Erica, her mom and I were amazed at the impact Eloy had on people's lives - not just family and friends. A bank president active in the community, he was a big fish in a small pond.
Time and again, visitors shared their condolences and their story - how a loan helped them buy a house, start or expand a business, or provide financial balance. It may have been a brief interaction decades ago, but that moment in time was remembered forever.
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| Tapestry showing just some of Eloy's many loves |
Suffice to say, it was a very difficult and stressful four weeks. Fortunately, UCSF understood my need for time to decompress in an effort to return to sanity and normalcy, and I returned June 1. Erica stayed behind for a couple weeks to make sure her mom was ready for her new independence.
Yes, May 2015 is a month I'll never forget. It was 31 days to experience life - and death - in its rawest form.
Til the next time...
