Yesterday afternoon, we gathered in Chelsea to celebrate the well-lived life of Barbara Weidner Ike, who left us last February at 81. Her husband Ron, who flew the F-4 Phantom in the Navy before moving on to larger personnel carriers bearing the colors of Republic, Northwest, and Delta – is a distant cousin. I’d known Barb since the early days of my fellowship, nearly 40 years, and our relationship took on many wrinkles. Hence, I was pleased and honored when Ron asked me to speak at her service. Here’s what I said, with Ron’s permission:
“Barb was my colleague, relative, patient, fan, and above all a dear friend. Early in my fellowship, someone asked me if I was married to that tall blonde nurse in the E.R. I had to make an excuse to get down there to check her out. From across the room, I could tell she wouldn’t make a half-bad catch! Of course, Ron had beat me to her. Barb rose to become head of patient-staff relations for the whole hospital. A big part of her job was dealing with patients’ complaints about their doctors. So, if you were a doc, and Barb came lookin’ for you, she usually wasn’t delivering a candygram.
Fortunately, when Barb came looking for me, she was just curious about this new doc the postman kept getting her mixed up with. We hit it off right away. There wasn’t much we disagreed on, except maybe those Buckeyes of hers. Even that – my maize-and-blue versus her scarlet-and-gray – made for some fun sparks, especially each year when November rolled around. Her curiosity got her into my dad’s hospital room, where she went after seeing his name on the inpatient roster. My dad enjoyed the visit, explaining that his 5’6” self was indeed the father of Barb’s young doctor friend. Dad would ask about Barb every time I visited him thereafter.
Barb had to see the same surgeon as Dad’s later on, her operation revealing a condition that would make her my patient. Her bowel blockage was due to a rare but benign condition that would affect the rest of her life. The scarring responsible was like that seen in one of my diseases as a rheumatologist, an autoimmune condition called scleroderma. Meaning literally “hard skin”, Barb lacked that feature, and the only scarred internal organ was her g.i. tract. There is no treatment for the condition, just trying to make up for the functions of the damaged organs. For Barb, that was the intravenous feedings she did in her last few years, something it took some pulling of strings to get.
They say you shouldn’t talk religion or politics, but boy did Barb and I enjoyed batting about the latter. I won’t go into details, but you couldn’t know Barb and not know what side she swung from. My wife Kathy, Ron, Barb, and I didn’t play cards or golf, but when that foursome got together, look out! And while Barb was surely scarlet-and-gray, even more she was red, white, and blue.
Ron still uses Barb’s e-mail. I guess it was always a joint account, but since I mainly swapped e-mails with Barb, a2ike@aol.com will always be Barb. Ron’s nearly daily funnies come in as “Barb/Ron”. So, it’s like she’s still with us. With 40 years of memories, I guess for me, she still is, in a way. While I’m sad I’ll no longer see her smile or get that look, I’m grateful for all the times I could. Thank you, Barb. I never had a better 6th cousin.”
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