karenulijohn

Had Harvey lived, we would be celebrating our 52nd wedding anniversary today, August 13, 2018.  Recounting the events of the days leading up to and including our wedding day will, I hope, bring him closer in my memory and be a balm for my grieving spirit.  

Harvey and I went to obtain a marriage certificate, but found that we needed my parents’ signature giving their permission.  Hard to believe that in the 1960’s, a woman had to have her father’s permission to marry.  On the application itself, Harvey is listed as “Bachelor” and I am listed as “Spinster.”  I took umbrage with that label, but the registrar was condescending and firm.  I was labeled a spinster at age 18!

My mother and I went shopping for my dress at Harrods.  I liked the first one I tried on, but tried a few others just to make the day worthwhile.  The dress was made with slub satin, had 3/4 length sleeves, and a chapel length train.  The neckline was embroidered with hundreds of tiny seed pearls.  I carried a small, white Bible with a spray of orchids across the top.  

We were to be married at the Kings Weigh House Church in Duke Street, Mayfair, W1 by the United States Navy Chaplain, Commander Moye.  Because the Navy Chapel could not perform legal marriages under British law, we needed to be married first at the Registry Office.  So, our first marriage took place at 9:30 AM at Caxton Hall on August 13th.  I wore the dress I wore for my high school graduation, and we used my Mother’s platinum wedding band during the ceremony.  Mom and Dad were our only witnesses.  Several days before, Harvey suggested that we have the civil ceremony on Friday the 12th, and then he and I could just meet everyone at the church at 2:30 PM on Saturday.  Needless to say, that idea was struck down emphatically by my Dad! 

My brother, George and his soon to be wife, Donna arrived from Grove City, PA where they were both attending college.  Donna would be my Maid of Honor and George would be a groomsman.  None of Harvey’s family was able to attend, so all of our friends from the church, business, school, etc just spread out across the whole sanctuary.  We were all friends after all.

August 13, 1966 was a beautiful day in London.  The sun was shining brightly and the temperature rose into the high 70’s.  My dad and I rode the three blocks to the church in a Rolls Royce Limousine, during which time my Dad asked me one final time if I was sure I wanted to do this.  Oh, I was sure all right!!  When I saw Harvey, he looked very dapper in his Cutaway Morning Coat.  Oh Yes, I was sure!  The ceremony itself was over too quickly; I’m not sure I remember a whole lot about it.  I remember that the organist “goofed” playing several bars of the wedding march.  He had given me a hard time about using the “hesitation step.”  Photographs followed.  One of my favorite photos is of Harvey and me in the back of the Rolls…we just looked so happy…smiles all around.

The reception was held at the Carlton Tower Suite in Chelsea.  It was a lovely cocktail party with lots of champagne.  I got a little “tipsy” but, I did not embarrass myself.  The wedding cake was made by the American chef at the Columbia Club which was the Navy Officers’ Club.  British wedding cake is usually a rather dense fruit cake with fondant icing.  I wanted white cake with white icing.  Yummy!

We left the reception at about 5:30 PM in our Sunbeam Alpine, loaded down with my trousseau, and we headed for the Dorincourt Hotel in Surrey.  It was a lovely old stately home that had been converted.  Unfortunately, I can’t find any photographs of it on the internet today.  We dined on Lobster Newburg and more champagne.  Harvey was convinced that no one could tell we were newlyweds.  But, the hotel management did know, and they played a real trick on us which featured a “Teasmade.”   I know we would be laughing about it together today too, if only he were here!

We arrived at JFK in the late afternoon and learned, upon reaching the baggage claim, that our luggage had been loaded onto a later flight.  I am not clear on why that happened, but it could be that we were late making our connection through Chicago.  In any case, we were assured that once the later flight arrived, our luggage would be delivered to the hotel as quickly as possible.  

When we got to the Plaza Hotel, we were able to acquire a second room directly across the hall from the first one on the fifth floor.  After freshening up as best we could, we decided to have dinner in the Palm Court Restaurant in the hotel.  I think it says something about the culture of air travel in those days, that even though we did not have a change of clothes, we were dressed appropriately for this ultra elegant restaurant.  We were both wearing suits, and of course I had on heels, gloves and a hat.  

During our candlelit dinner, among other things, we discussed the room situation.  The room that I had been given was smaller than his, had no television, and had an outside fire escape right by the window.  Harvey knew that I was nervous about being alone, so he took great pains to tell me how he had heard on the news that there was a gang of burglars, using hotel fire escapes to gain entry and steal from the patrons.  According to him, no one had been murdered so far, but I should make sure that the window was locked.  Is it any wonder then that, once back in our respective rooms, I was wide awake listening for every noise, and I had no television to distract me?  Ever the gallant gentleman, he offered to trade rooms with me.  I think he just wanted to get some sleep.  As I was finally settling down, there was a knock on the door.  I was afraid to answer it until I heard Harvey telling me that the luggage had arrived.  It had to have been around midnight at this point.  

Because Margaret Thatcher used to travel with a teddy bear, I am not ashamed to admit that I also have a teddy bear, who travels with me everywhere.  Since I was not in my assigned room, Harvey’s luggage had been placed in the room I was occupying.  That meant that my teddy bear was in the luggage in his room.  After another phone call requesting said bear, I was advised to open my door, when, all of the sudden, the bear came flying across the hall. 

The next day, I didn’t stray far from the hotel, and Harvey arrived back from his meeting just in time to head to the airport for our return flight to London.  I was dreading the “grilling” I knew I would get from my parents about this extra stop in NYC.  But, even that could not dampen my spirits or alter in any way my feelings for Harvey.  Being with him, traveling with him, laughing together and enjoying each other was a kind of freedom I had never experienced.  I didn’t appreciate how difficult it would be, going back to stay with my parents. My heart ached, and I wondered how I would survive the five months until our wedding in August.  

My parents were not particularly thrilled with our engagement, and even less enthusiastic about our traveling to Spokane, WA to meet Harvey’s parents.  My father finally relented after receiving written invitations from Harvey’s family and a family associated with his company in Seattle.  The plan was to spend a week in Spokane and then drive to Seattle where Harvey would spend several days in the office.  

Harvey’s parents met us at the airport when we arrived and drove us back to the family home.  It was the middle of winter, and the snow was piled so high that the cars had to have an orange ball stuck to the antenna in order for the car to be seen in traffic.  His mother and I hit it off almost right away.  She was working as head of the draft board, but she was anxious to have me meet her workmates and take me to lunch.  She was so kind to me and so happy that I was marrying her “little Chum.”  His father was a little different.  I had to win him over by beating him at cribbage.  And, we did have music in common.  He had a large Conn organ in the living room which he played at full volume every chance he got. The family had planned a reception for us so that old friends could meet Harvey’s fiancé, since everyone had pretty much given up on him ever marrying.  I didn’t know it at the time, but Harvey’s Dad commented on the age difference saying, “She’s a little young, isn’t she?”  

After a week, we rented a car and drove across the Cascade Mountains to  Seattle.  Harvey had been telling me how treacherous Snoqualmie Pass was in the winter.  I had imagined  the pass as a little dirt road, similar to what the conestoga wagons used.  When we drove through the pass on a six lane highway, I gave it the name “Phony Pass.”  The scenery was beautiful, so different from anything I had experienced in Pennsylvania.  

The Andersons, with whom I stayed, lived in Edmonds, a little north of Seattle, and they had four young children.  Barbara was very welcoming and I got a taste of the culture that existed there.  A pot of coffee was available throughout the day and evening, and served to anyone who dropped in for a visit, no matter how short.  Logistics during this time were quite complicated since Harvey had to work during the day, but we spent every evening together and out of respect for my hosts, I tried to be home at a respectable hour.  

Up to this point, the trip went completely as planned.  We spent as much time as we could together and had a lovely time.  But then, an unexpected business meeting forced us to detour through New York City on our way back to London. There was no invitation, no chaperone, and a reservation at The Plaza Hotel!  What to do??

As we got to know each other better, it turned out that there was another Karen, in Seattle.  The facts of the existence of this woman sort of ‘trickled out’ over several dates.  There was even a strange kind of ‘engagement’ although they rarely talked or wrote to each other.  If I hadn’t met her, I might have thought she was a fictitious  ‘get out of this date’ sort of excuse.  Harvey and I were both scheduled to be back in the States for part of the summer; he was going back to Seattle on business, and I was going to stay with my brother George at my Grandma’s house in Pittsburgh.  Harvey insisted that everything would be all right when we got back to London.  In my mind, that meant everything would be all right for him, with his new wife, and I would have to be nice to her!

Harvey had flown out a week before I left, and the first morning I was in Pittsburgh, the phone rang very, very early. It was Harvey, and he asked me to marry him.  I said, “No, I just got here!”  He explained that he had seen the other Karen and broken up with her so that he was free to ask me.  He was perplexed and sought some explanation from my Mother who asked him what he expected, “she is only 18!”

Eventually, I arrived back in London, and I found a letter from him.  As I opened it, letters, notes and cards that I had written to him over the three or four months we’d been together, came tumbling out.  There was a short note from him that read, “I am getting rid of some vestigial clutter!”  I didn’t know what vestigial meant, but I was still insulted.

We continued to see each other, but our meetings were tense and difficult.  Finally, he decided it was over and took himself off on a business trip to Brussels.  In the meantime, I knew that I really loved him, and couldn’t go on with things as they were.  I knew the date he was returning, but I did not know the flight, or time, or even the airline.  I knew he usually flew British Airways, so I picked a late afternoon arrival from Brussels, and hired a mini cab to take me to the airport.  As luck would have it, I had chosen well.  Harvey came through customs and spotted me…and the mini cab driver.  “Who is that?” were the first words out of his mouth.  The cab driver made a hasty retreat, and I took Harvey’s arm and told him I was there to meet him and that I wanted to patch things up.  He was even more skeptical when, on the way into London I told him that I would marry him, but only if he got me a ring by Thursday.  I’m not sure why Thursday was important, but I think we were scheduled to go to the theatre.

Much later, he told me he thought I was setting him up for something.  He took me to a jewelry store in Regent Street that we lovingly refer to as Fred Hill’s Diamond Paradise.  The diamond ring was of questionable quality and my wedding band cost all of nine guineas, but I was thrilled.  No roses, no proposal on one  knee, no romantic hideaway, but I was engaged to the man of my dreams.

While I was on my morning walk today, the question of how I move forward kept crowding into my thoughts. Thinking about the future is very painful and bleak.  It occurred to me that perhaps the best way forward is to recapture memories of the past.  Right now, the only Harvey I remember vividly is the “sick” Harvey.  I want to remember him as healthy and strong.  I’m thankful that he did not lose his wonderful sense of humor which certainly carried us through some of the more difficult days of his illness.

Looking back 53 years, we met in February of 1965 at the United States Navy Chapel in London, England.  He was 29, having just had a birthday, and I was 17, anxiously awaiting my 18th birthday in April.  He approached me at the coffee hour after the service and asked me if I would like to join him for “dinner and a natter.”  I had no idea what a “natter” was, but said yes anyway.  My parents were somewhat concerned, but I suggested that once he knew how old I was, he would no longer have an interest.  Well, the subject of my age never came up (until much later) and I certainly didn’t volunteer because I really liked him.

I lived with my parents in a lovely flat in Grosvenor Square.  There were two main entrances and a concierge/doorman stationed at both.  Somehow or another, Harvey missed the opulent main entrances and came up through the back tradesman entrance and arrived at the back door of the flat which was hardly ever used.  Chains and bolts had to be undone before the door could be opened, and there he stood in his grey suit and crisp white shirt, holding a pineapple.

He took me to a little Swiss restaurant on Ebury Street called The Edelweiss where we had cheese fondue.  The restaurant itself was modeled after a restaurant in Geneva, with pine panelling and pine tables.  We sat in a booth and got down to the business of getting to know each other.  He was working for a paper tape company out of Seattle, WA. running the newly formed European operation.  He was a great conversationalist, and we seemed to have a lot to talk about for several hours.  During that time I noticed his hands.  He had beautiful hands, well formed, long fingers, but strong.  The other thing I noticed was his watch.  It was quite large and I ended up referring to it as the “hubcap.”

On our second date, which occurred in the following week, he managed to find his way through the main entrance of the block of flats, but, when he arrived at our door, he had two tulips with roots and dirt attached that he had picked out of the flower bed in the courtyard.  That evening we went to The George Coaching Inn in Southwark.  Again, we sat for hours talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.  I started to worry a little though (as I am wont to do on occasion) because he had not tried to kiss me.  I wanted him to kiss me!

A Celebration of Life service for Harvey Ulijohn will be held on Saturday, June 16th, 2018 at 2:00 PM at the Lincoln Hills Community Church on Joiner Parkway.  A reception will follow in the foyer.  Please come and show your love for this wonderful man.

My beloved Harvey passed away this evening at 6:05 PM.  It was peaceful and only I was here to hold his hand.  It was quite sudden and quite quick.  We had a wonderful day today, talking and laughing more than we had done in many days.  I think I have a long journey ahead.  Thank you for your prayers.

Lovingly,

Karen

Harvey was admitted to the hospital today, Sunday, May 27th at 12:30 AM.   

After a week in Pittsburgh, PA visiting my ailing brother and his family, Dawn and Dirk drove me back to Lincoln Saturday morning.  Harvey was so happy to see us, and we had a lovely visit, recounting tales of our visit back east.  His caretaker through the week, Diane, was still there when we arrived and said that she had had a very difficult time getting him to wake up in the morning.  That sleepiness persisted throughout most of the day, and he seemed to be confused and was not able to understand simple commands.  I kept telling him to eat his soup, and he would just smile and close his eyes.  As the day wore on, I noticed that he had begun shaking and I asked him if he was cold.  He replied that he was, so I wrapped him up in an afghan.  It didn’t seem to help, and I noticed that sometimes he seemed almost rigid.  He felt a little warm to the touch.  I finally called 911 when I couldn’t get him to respond to me at all.  

After myriad tests, blood draws, EKG, and chest XRay, and a core body temperature of 105 degrees F, they began treating him with strong antibiotics and fluids.  In addition, he had gone into Atrial Fibrillation again and the drugs that they gave him to bring down his heart rate also served to lower his blood pressure to dangerously low levels.  Dr. Kovacik, the ER doctor, was very kind and persistent in trying different drugs to try to achieve, what appears to be the unachievable.  After several hours, he came in and asked if anyone had talked to us about hospice.  He could see from the look on our faces that the answer was “No,” although we had discussed palliative care.  The chest Xray revealed that Harvey’s cancer has spread to his lungs now, and further, the blood draws showed that he is septic.  

Dr. Kovacik was sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but he said that Harvey’s condition was grave. He went so far as to tell us that there was a possibility that he could take a turn for the worse and pass during the night.  My decision to stay overnight at the hospital had already been made at that point, but who knew that I would be spending the night sitting in a hard chair in the ER.  No beds are available until after 7:00 AM.  I just can’t leave him! 

Indeed, what can I say?  On the one hand, we are dealing with yet another round of daily medications, uncertainty, good days and bad days.  Yet, on the other hand, we are on the receiving end of so much love and kindness, and so many prayers, cards and gifts.  We are humbled by the outpouring of offers of help.  Thank you to everyone who has expressed an interest in what we are facing.

Tuesday was a particularly bad day for Harvey.  He had absolutely no energy, and could barely get from the bed to the chair.  He told me he didn’t have the strength to take a shower.  He had no appetite, and any thoughts of food made him uncomfortable and frustrated.  I was certain that his problem was directly related to his not eating or drinking.  When I finally managed to get him to eat a little bit and drink some water, he began to recover and even gained back some appetite.  At one point, I actually asked him “Are you dying?” He responded that he didn’t know because he has never died before!  I’m grateful that he still has his sense of humor.

We have been waiting for nearly two weeks for the Chemotherapy drug to arrive, and it finally came today.  He will begin to take 3 tablets in the morning, and 3 in the evening for the next two weeks, then have one week off.  He will have to take an anti-nausea pill one hour before the chemo.  Given that he sleeps most of the day, he will have to begin popping pills at 7:00 A.M.  The 20% copay for this drug is considerable and will necessitate our limiting the sumptuous meals that I have been creating to entice him to eat.  LOL!

We have hired a very nice woman who is a resident here in Lincoln Hills, to come in and help Harvey two or three times a day.  She was recommended through Neighbors InDeed, a volunteer organization in the Lincoln Hills community that offers help to residents from programming the sprinkler system to changing the smoke detectors, and everything in between.  Her main role is to make sure that Harvey eats a balanced meal several times a day.  We liked her immediately we met her, and I am convinced that she will be able to handle all of the excuses of why he doesn’t want to eat.   You may recall from a previous post that Harvey had acquired the nickname “ROF” when he visited Starbucks.  Well, ROF (Recalcitrant Old Fart) has returned. I think he has met his match!

Please feel free to call Harvey or arrange to come and visit with him.  Some people have offered to take him to lunch or dinner.  Because he is eating so little, I think he will be most comfortable visiting here at home.

Maybe I was being naive, but I never thought I would be posting to this blog ever again after my last post a year and a half ago.  But, I should never say “never!”  Recently, Harvey has been having back pain that was progressively getting worse and worse.  He consulted our Primary Care Physician who, after an X-Ray, concluded that his problem was arthritis, and he should just learn to live with it.  Fortunately, both Harvey and I knew in our bones that there was something terribly wrong.  He has continued to lose weight, his appetite is non-existent, his electrolytes are not balanced, particularly sodium and chloride, and he has absolutely no energy.

About three weeks ago, he had a follow up appointment with Dr. Suhag, his oncologist, who ordered an MRI of Harvey’s spine.  The results of that showed something that persuaded him to order a CT scan.  The scan revealed two thickened areas in Harvey’s liver plus swollen lymph nodes.  The Dr. was pretty sure it was cancer, but he needed to know whether it was a recurrence of melanoma or esophageal cancer.  Last week, Harvey had a liver biopsy, the results of which we heard today.  Esophageal cancer has found its way to his liver and lymph nodes.

We feel very lucky to have Dr. Suhag as Harvey’s oncologist.  He laid out the facts and possible treatments, outcome expectations and time lines.  He answered all of our questions and assured us that he would do everything necessary to take us through this challenge.   The treatment options are: 1) Chemotherapy by infusion, 2) Chemotherapy by mouth, 3) Targeted therapy based on genetic mutation, 4) Surgery which is not indicated at this time, 5) No treatment.  Because of Harvey’s previous experience of cancer treatments, he has a particular aversion to ports and pic lines and needles and infusion centers.  So, he has opted for Option 2, chemo by mouth.  While it is not as effective as the infusion method, the trade off is fewer side effects.  The goal is to shrink the tumors, relieve his pain, and allow him to have reasonably good quality of life.

In the meantime, the cells from the biopsy have been sent to Foundation I which is an organization that searches for the mutated genes, and studies why they are growing.  There is a 1 in 5 chance that Harvey’s cell mutation will match one that has already been identified, and a smart drug therapy has been discovered.  The results of this search will be returned sometime next week.  Targeted therapy is not a cure, but it has been shown to produce miraculous results and remissions.

Please keep Harvey in your thoughts and prayers.