Telling the Right People

Along with the diagnosis came a great deal of responsibility not just for ourselves but for our family and our education/professional community. 

My first thoughts were to let our children know.  Our grown children were going to be a huge part of our support network so of course they were told first.  In the beginning, there wasn't much to share other that a diagnosis and the medical treatment that had been presented.  Many questions came as the weeks passed so we were all on the Internet googling for answers to a disease that was foreign to our minds.  Such an announcement of course was met with silence first; then "are they sure?"; and "what does this mean?" 

At the same time, I was making sure our immediate family knew of the diagnosis.  Denny's younger brother and I spoke candidly about keeping this news from his mother until later because she would worry so.  For my immediate siblings, it was imperative they knew what we were facing because their support would be critical for me to maintain a sense of normalcy for the months and years to come.

Then, as a school administrator, I knew I had to advise district administrators of this recent diagnosis. Since Dennis was the Aquatic Coordinator for the district, I first spoke with the Athletic Director, then a Superintendent I was close to and of course notified the principal of Denny's high school.  What was expected of course was a letter from the doctor stating that Dennis was still capable of carrying out his duties as specified in his contract.  That was not a problem and the doctor was glad to do so.  With all that in place, it was the end of that school year 2002 so our summer vacation began.

The regiment of Exelon started that summer and of course it was not without its setbacks.  Dennis started to lose weight and he slept more than usual.  We spent most of our summer in Iowa that year and so within a few weeks I found it necessary to let his 80+ year old mother know his diagnosis.  As you can imagine, it was a shock.  She was sad and terribly concerned about what was going to happen.  I assured her we were going to be okay and I would be taking good care of him to make sure he had the best medical treatment.  [...even though at the time I had no idea what that really meant]

When school started that next year, we were at church and I saw some swim parents who were always so supportive and helpful with the Dobie team.  I prayed during mass about whether to share this diagnosis with anyone outside the family but I felt these parents may be a great help if they see anything that needed to be brought to my attention.  So after mass, we stopped to chat with the usual greetings and I asked the wife if I could speak with her privately for a few minutes.  We walked aside as the men continued chatting.  I shared the diagnosis.  I shared that the district was aware and Dennis was doing well with the medicine.  She gasped, "I knew something was wrong!"  I didn't catch that thought at the time.  Instead I went on to ask that she please let me know if there is anything out of the ordinary that should be brought to my attention.  She did share briefly that she noticed little things that could now be better explained but nothing major.  With that we parted and I felt a sense of relief.

Little did I know that sharing that information would backfire on me in the months to come.  This parent took an overly aggressive stand on just about everything Dennis did.  She did not talk with me again but went to school administrators with various concerns.  She bypassed Dennis and she bypassed me.  Den was constantly defending himself in minor issues that were of no real consequence.  One day I was driving home from work when I called my son, Scott, crying and explaining how this parent had betrayed me and how she continued to criticize instead of supporting and encouraging the Coach --  I couldn't stop crying.  Our son said, "Mom don't be mad at the parent!  You gave her information she didn't know what to do with.  We don't even know what to do with this information.  Please pull over and stop crying.  Pull yourself together because there are going to many more serious issues ahead of us. It's going to be okay!"  After I pulled over there was a long pause on both ends.  And then Scott asked if I was okay and said the words "I love you". 

And of course, during the months to follow, a natural sequence of events lead to us sharing with neighbors and friends and distant family the support we would need to make this journey. We began to treasure the faith, hope and love that was part of our lives --- in a new way that we could never have imagined.