The beginning of a new spring semester always brings thoughts of spring semesters past. Right now, I am thinking of the one just past, in 2006. Looking back, I know that Misty wondered if she would hang on until summer vacation started. She knew, certainly, that this semester would be her last.
"How are you doing?" a friend asked her one day, when we were at Milton's having lunch. "Do you want the Pollyanna version, or the truth?" she countered. "The truth," said the friend. "The truth is, I feel like shit and I'm dying."
Deborah "Misty" Gerner
Misty made this latter statement with a smile, but it wasn't "inappropriate affect," as we social work types like to say. In my eulogy to her at her memorial service, I talked about that smile because, honestly, it was huge: ten-thousand megawatts, I'd said, enough to light up a room, and it often did. Over the course of her illness (11 years in all, with one pretty good interlude of relative wellness), the smile would take a hiatus, but it always returned.
As she battled the rotten side effects of various chemo regimens, she would send reports on her health to her many friends around the world (she travelled extensively as a Middle East scholar). At the end of each letter (always signed, "carpe diem," or "seize the day"), a statement was appended which went something like this: "you have been added by request to this distribution list. If you wish to stop receiving these e-mails, please notify me." For some reason, I always found this very funny. Of course, I've seen these disclaimers on "spam" e-mails, but really. Did she honestly think we would not want hear from her? For some reason, we never talked about this.
The worst part about cancer is that, if you live with it long enough, the people around you forget what you used to be like before diagnosis. Misty was energetic, curious, argumentative (to the end, actually!), passionate, and concerned about others. A lot of credit is due her husband, Phil Schrodt, for expending so much energy on her that she could use what she had to just be herself. It was a real gift, to her and her friends. Writing this helps me remember these quality in Misty, who meant so much to her friends, students, other scholars, and her husband.
at 8:27 p.m.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts about Misty, your friend.
Carpe Diem, day after day. Misty is still by your side.