I was participating in a teleconference call today with a prospective vendor from Minneapolis, where they got hit by snow throughout their morning commute. My boss chuckled thinking it was an April Fool’s Day joke, but he brought up a past horrific snow storm in New England that occurred on April 1, 1997. As he was citing that date, I was swept back to a day I will never forget …
At that time, I was Systems and Programming Manager for Butler Hospital in Providence. That morning, we had a crisp 17″ and I completed shoveling the snow to clear the way for a normal 30-minute trek to work — which actually took 90-minutes under difficult driving conditions. When I arrived, I expected to find my boss, the Director of Computer Services, to be waiting for me with his usual disapproving, but smug look, along with an impatient sigh — his management style for expressing disappointment in my tardiness. I could always tolerate his bizarre antics, because I considered him a friend and I had grown close to his family, too. His name was Ron Giguere. I recall that day vividly, because it was the first day I could ever recall Ron not reporting to work on a planned day — and much to everyone’s initial surprise and delight. The light thoughts of having an unsupervised work day was quickly replaced when the hospital’s president called to inform me of the bad news …
After coming home from his bowling league the night before, Ron had suffered a stroke and was admitted to a hospital. He was in stable condition, but he was clearly having speech and motor skill impediments. The prognosis was he would be released in a week or two, taking medication and occupational therapy, and his progress would be measured by that treatment. His wife is a nurse, and she worried it could be 6-weeks to 6-months before he would be able to return to work. I was worrying, because the hospital had just begun a JCAHO re-certification process and our president named me the department’s interim director. Oh, joy …
Actually, having the joint commission buzzing about probably served me best, because I was intent on not letting anyone down. I would rise to meet this demand during a crisis, toe-to-toe, and provide a level of assurance to senior management that they could count on continued, professional service from its small information services department. So my focus was on work, and not on my friend, and the work day shrunk and my energy was spent to care about anything else …
Ron’s release after 10-days was interrupted by another stroke. Medication and physical therapy was not going to be effective. A scan uncovered a 90% blockage of the main artery feeding oxygen to his brain, which meant surgery. Ron survived the procedure, but he never recovered. After regaining consciousness for a short while, he suffered a major stroke and was dependent upon life support — but that did not factor any, because his brain had essentially died and Ron was taken off the machine and was pronounced dead a few hours later. Ron was only 47-years old, survived by his wife, Carol, and their son, Tim, and daughter, Amy.
I had a difficult time coping with the loss, for both personal and professional reasons. When someone hires you, your life is forever changed as you embark down a new path. I have Ron to thank for the opportunities he extended me. But most of all, I found my best friend in life taking that job — and that same someone I would later marry. My wife, Lois, also worked the same department and she, too, had to cope with these life-altering events with Ron’s passing and her husband of 5-years taking over the role and responsibilities of the department.
There was a lot of disbelief then — like a really bad April Fool’s Day joke. Except the effects of this one lingered a few years, and I am reminded about it every year. I find that on this particular day, I am probably at my most compassionate and tolerant of others. I could cite many examples of this, but it really is something deep that can only be appreciated by the one having to experience it. It is a time of remembrance and personal reflection filled with sobering thoughts.
