A Conversation with Cary and Ben Jones

Q:You are acutely aware of the seasons passing. Why is it important for you? How is it different now then it was for you before your illness?

The Jones Family, 1982 (Pictured L-R: Cary, Peter, Ben and Ben ) © KUED

Cary: Well, I was first told that my cancer had returned and that things were not looking good in May, and that I had through November to live. You see that happen in movies, but you never think it will happen to you. But when it happened to me, all of a sudden that summer season...every single nuance of that summer became so important. When every single tree in my yard that bloomed went out of bloom, I noticed because I thought it would be the last time I would see it. And as fall rolled around, it became particularly intense.

A friend of mine came over one day with a whole bunch of sacks of bulbs and she and I planted them all through my yard. It was such a wonderful, beautiful gesture because she and I both never imagined that I would live to see those bulbs bloom. Then the winter came and went and I was there in the spring to see them bloom. It was so amazing, something as simple as that; it was really a gift to me. I realized that I was forty-two years old and had never planted a garden, plus I didn't think I would ever see this garden.

For me, that garden became a symbol of the seasons passing. When you plant in the spring, you've got this bare patch of ground and you see these little seedlings coming up. But then in the fall you see the dying, you see the withering and the harvesting, and then you've got this clear plot again. And it's such a marker of that span of time and for me, it's really important to know that I've been alive through that span of time. I just relish it.

I'm interested in perennials more than I am in annuals. I plant perennials because I want my family to remember me. I want them to come outside and go "Oh, I didn't know she planted that."

Q: So it's both timeless in a way and also a reminder of time. Do you feel this is your last garden, just like you did last year?

Ben, Cary, Ben and Peter © KUED

Cary: Last year I definitely felt it was my last garden. This year I'm not quite so sure. I'm not positive I'll see another garden but I have a little bit of hope that I might. I've changed. Even though Damocles' sword is hanging over my head every single day, it isn't as oppressive as it was. I've also kind of surprised myself that I've lived longer than they expected and actually have enjoyed a lot of things much more then I expected.

 

Q: It seems like you're bearing fruit right now, that you're in that flowering stage. Do you feel that way?

Cary: In some ways I feel very calm. I'm usually a pretty easygoing person but there's been a calmness that has come over me that has been very helpful for me to make sense of this and make sense of what my life's been about, and how to let go gracefully. I guess in some sense that's a blooming. In another sense I feel withering, which is difficult. It's difficult to feel old at forty-two. Chemotherapy can bring that on. Your hair grays prematurely a lot of times. Your bones become brittle. Your nerve endings get damaged. So you physically are an older being than you were before, so I guess I feel both. I feel a blooming of spirit and a blooming of this calmness and peace and an acceptance of what my life has turned out to be.

My mom is eighty-one. And for a long time our roles have been shifting - where I would be the one to help her up the stairs or with the groceries. And now my mother and I are physically very much the same. And when she and I walk up my stairs and we have to hold onto each other. And she and I have come on a long journey to accept that with each other. My mother is so adamant that I'll get well. And her hope is that I will get well. And it's very difficult for her to see her daughter struggling with the same physical issues she's struggling with. But we're right there together. You just take it with a lot of grace and be glad you're here.

Q: Has your illness made you more aware of the preciousness of life?

Cary: Definitely. It's too bad I had to wait to have the diagnosis. I always loved life, but life is very different for me now. I think the preciousness is that I realize that time is so much more valuable than money - time with my family, time with my garden, time with my art - that time is the gift. Also, I was forced to slow down. Because my body wouldn't get up and rush out to meet the deadlines and I couldn't work at the pace that I was used to working, I was forced to remember who I was when I was younger. And I really liked who I was when I was younger - the kind of person that could just sit down and have a good conversation with no concern about time and deadlines. That's been a real gift.

Peter and Ben at the opening of their parents' photo exhibit, February 2001 © KUED

Q: But the gifts you've received must have come at a great price for you and your family. Ben, what was that like for you to hear that the cancer had returned?

Ben: As we talked about it afterwards, we realized that we really had not ever believed the medical people in the first place when they said it was all gone. There was always a nagging feeling that it wasn't going to go away. So I think after the initial shock, it was a confirmation of what we kind of had felt inside even though medically Cary had been told that she shouldn't expect it to come back.

Cary: Yeah. Ben said that when we were in the doctor's office and the doctor was giving me the diagnosis, he sat there and was looking at me. He said my ears were bright red. He said it was like the news was just burning my ears. It was the most amazing thing. He said, "You know, the rest of your coloring was normal, and your ears were bright red."

Q: When you heard the news, what were you feeling?

Cary: I think we were both in shock really, and when you're in shock you get waves of emotion that hit you literally like waves. The reality sort of hits you and then you sort of go into denial, just to be able to function for a while. We were just numb. I think a lot of the real grief sunk in many weeks later. Don't you?

Ben: Yeah, I think you deal immediately with the surface issues right off the bat. We were dealing with how to tell our sons Ben and Peter, we were dealing with what to do with Cary's art career, and we were dealing with how to provide or how to get some type of compassionate care lined up for her. That was an immediate issue that I felt strongly about.

After those things are all taken care of and you have time to sit down and think about what it really means, then I think you experience a lot of grief and a lot of confusion.

Cary: You take it a day at a time from there.

Ben: She taught me how to take it a day at a time and that's one of the real gifts that has come out of this. Cary has always lived very much in the present; she's very easy to take care of because she's just concerned about what's strictly in the present. I think that as human beings our tendency is to look into the future, and try to control it. And one of the gifts I think that has come out of this experience is that Cary just very naturally has taught the rest of us how to just live in the present. If she's feeling good that day, then it's a good day to do things that are fun and satisfying to do. If she's tired, it's a good day to rest. If she's sick, it's a good day to sleep. And there's very little struggle on her part to change things from the way they really are to something else. It's possible that in three months, Cary's dead. And it's possible in three months that she may be in remission. So you just take it day to day.

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