Blogsmith

Survivor Spotlight: Tom Batiuk, Creator of Funky Winkerbean

The Cancer Blog

Sep 12th 2007 9:36PM My brother Joe was a big strapping 6'3" bundle of decency and
generosity and smoothly piercing humor. He and his wife Betty taught
high school history and English, respectively, and he supported the
high school baseball team fully. He donated his artistic talent and
wry style to sign making and fund raising efforts and showed up at
every game to cheer them on, and they won back to back to back State
Championships. They always knew he was in the stands come wind or water.

He and Betty went hiking and he fell and injured his hand. When it
didn't heal and didn't heal and DIDN'T heal, the doctor ran tests. He had bone marrow cancer. He didn't believe in blood transfusions so he tried all sorts of other methods. I was all ready to donate all the bone marrow he wanted since I was a good match, but he was too weak.

My kids and I drove out to the hospital in Arkansas and got to see him one last time. People do that, you know; we wanted to see him and be there for Aunt Betty. They had no children of their own. He was on a constant morphine drip and therefore out of it.

The kids remembered their big Uncle who once had my daughter stand on the arches of his feet at a family wedding, and hold his hands so they could dance during the reception. They remembered how he used to swing them around like the world's most cuddly Maypole, and my older two kids are studying education at college now in part because his example inspired them.

We barely recognized the shrunken, silent figure in the hospital bed,
whose auburn hair had turned white and wispy and barely there. We spent about an hour with him and Betty. Having driven through the
night, I was tired and the kids were hungry so our sister took us out to grab a bite to eat. While we were gone Joe passed away.

At the time, the kids were glad to have been able to see Uncle Joe and say goodbye, and I helped Betty make all the arrangements because she'd never had to handle funeral arrangements before. Dear Lord I had plenty of experience, unfortunately. My sister stayed with the kids while I led Betty through the necessary decision-making hoops.

So just imagine what must have gone through my kids' minds when I had to tell them a few years later that I had cancer. I was VERY LUCKY to find it so early, that it was able to be taken care of quickly and thoroughly, and this year marks my third year cancer-free.

So just what in the hell does Tom Batiuk think he's accomplishing here by parading a worst-case scenario across the funny pages for kids like mine who have been through what mine have been through, to see? How many more kids have to look at their parents - or themselves - and think of Lisa Moore's long drawn out story that will PAINFULLY and UNNECESSARILY leave a mark of dread in their minds?

In conclusion, let me add this: the spring before Joe went into
the hospital for the last time, Betty wheeled him up to school for the end of the year awards ceremonies. To his complete surprise, his baseball team, the other students and the staff in that high school called for him to come up to the stage and be recognized for his longtime commitment to them and the ball team, and also awarded him the
newly State Championship team's baseball that the whole team signed. The entire school stood up and cheered as he came forward, and they continued to do so for a solid ten minutes to honor him. They loved that man and thank God he was able to experience that warmth and love in person.

Try as he might, Tom Batuik will NEVER be Joe Francis. Not now, and
certainly not after he passes.