A beam of sunshine
There are days that change your life forever. When those days come, it is impossible to understand how the rest of the world is moving about, as if everything is okay. For me, that day was July 7, 2015.
Less than two weeks earlier, on Father’s Day, my dad did something incredibly unusual, he went to the doctor because he was in such pain. That’s when we knew something wasn’t right. Dad never admitted to being in pain. This was a big deal.
Within days we received gut-wrenching news. Dad’s abdomen was full of tumors. We quickly scheduled an appointment for biopsy and treatment with Beebe’s Tunnell Cancer Center.
However, dad never made it to that appointment. He woke up in such pain and unable to breathe on July 3 that we had to call an ambulance to transport him to Beebe Healthcare. There, we were so thankful that he was receiving medical care while we awaited his now rushed biopsy results. The medical oncological team suspected Lymphoma.
We were ready for a fight. But we were never ready for the news that came after a simple vitals check on Tuesday, July 7. Dr. Spellman was on his way to the hospital, and dad would be rushed into emergency surgery. One of his tumors pierced through his intestines, and he had a perforated bowel.
Hours later, Dr. Spellman appeared in the waiting room and called us into a private area. The news was devastating. Dad’s abdomen was so full of tumors it was impossible for Dr. Spellman to find the perforation. Dad was brought out of surgery intubated with a tube draining his stomach. Dr. Spellman gently prepared us for what would surely happen, dad would go septic and his body would start shutting down, there was little chance dad would make it through the night. But, miraculously, he did.
Two days after his surgery, we gathered with dad’s medical oncological team. While dad had survived septic shock, he would not survive his fast growing tumors. We had to make the difficult decision to try and administer chemotherapy while dad was in such a bad state - his stomach still open from surgery, his bowel leaking dangerously, and dad still intubated.
With all of the courage we could muster, we agreed to try chemo. Hours later, in his darkened room, we sat with his ICU and chemo nurses, knowing that it was likely that dad’s body would shut down when the chemo hit his system.
But again, he made it. This was the beginning of our 143-day journey with the amazing doctors and nurses at Beebe Healthcare.
For dad to beat this cancer, he had to go through six rounds of chemotherapy, but he couldn’t go home with a perforated bowel, which left him in an extremely critical state. Every 21 days dad received chemo. And each round, we almost lost him.
Dad’s body took blow after blow. His gallbladder shut down. He reached fevers of 104 for sustained days at a time. He had blood transfusions and blood clots.
Day in and day out my mother and I would arrive to the hospital, to our new family really, with the hope and prayer that dad would make it yet another day. Until July, my parents had only been weekenders in Delaware. Dad went into the hospital just three days after mom retired and became a permanent Delaware resident. Except for a few close friends, the doctors, nurses, and staff at Beebe were the only folks my parents knew in the area.
In mid-August, it occurred to dad that he would miss the second birthday party of Abigail, his only grandchild. It broke my heart to know how much that hurt him. So, we decided to bring the party to dad. After one quick email to the Beebe Medical Foundation, things quickly fell into place and we were able to have the best princess party a little girl - and her Poppop - could wish for.
When it came time for dad’s afternoon walk, the nurses walked dad right into Abby’s party - in their break room! Dad was so surprised and so happy to watch Abby blow out her two candles. Dad’s chemo nurses and Dr. Peri, the head of dad’s medical oncological team, joined us for cupcakes and presents. It was an unforgettable afternoon - with many tears of joy.
Judy Aliquo, President and CEO of Beebe Medical Foundation, visited our dad several times in the hospital and shared, “Barry was truly a “Beam of Sunshine.” His positive outlook, great personality, and thankfulness for the Beebe Team will never be forgotten.”
Dad had his last chemo treatment on October 1. That was when we thought we could see a small glimmer of light at the end of this scary, dark tunnel. Dr. Spellman and dad’s medical oncological team decided that they would take the month of October to get dad’s body ready for that crucial surgery we had been waiting for; fixing his perforated bowel. Until then, dad’s tumors were so large there was no way to find and close his perforation - but with each chemo round his tumors got smaller and smaller.
111 days after he arrived at Beebe, dad’s nurses wheeled him (and all of his equipment) outside – for the first time in four months. Knowing my dad felt sunshine on his face after so much time was an indescribable feeling. That same day, dad took his first bite of food since July 7. It was amazing to watch.
In early November, Dr. Spellman told us what we had been waiting for; he and Dr. Wang had officially scheduled surgery for November 23. Dad and his nurses had a countdown on his white board and we thought there was no better Thanksgiving celebration than to get dad through this hurdle and on his road to recovery.
However, just days prior to the surgery, we began to notice that dad was confused, more tired than usual, and not himself.
This is when Dr. Spellman had to deliver his second set of devastating news. In the six short weeks since dad’s last chemo round, his cancer had spread rapidly to his brain. I was four hours away at my home in Newport News when Dr. Spellman and my mother called to tell me. There was nothing that could be done, they said.
Dad was released on November 23, 2015, the day he was supposed to have surgery. 143 days after arriving at Beebe Healthcare, dad came home, where in his final days he had a view of the water and neighboring Christmas lights. Four days after he arrived, the day after Thanksgiving, dad slipped peacefully away.
While there are dark moments when I question why dad had to suffer and fight so hard only to succumb to his awful disease, I quickly remember that God, the universe, prayer, positive thinking, faith, hope – and the doctors and nurses at Beebe Healthcare– gave us five more months than we were really supposed to have. They also gave dad a fighting chance.
We will never be able to repay our Beebe family – the scores of dedicated nurses that tended to dad –taking care of not just his body, but his heart and soul.
Dad’s doctors from the Tunnell Cancer Center were amazing, charting scary and unprecedented waters with us. Dr. Spellman, Dr. Wang, Dr. Peri and their colleagues gave us more time with our hero – and because of them, my mother and I will be lifelong investors in Beebe. We will always give back to the place that has given us so much.
Dr. Spellman said, “We were all fortunate to have met Mr. Beam and his family. A truly courageous family.”
Barry Beam (February 23, 1950 – November 27, 2015) served in the United States Air Force Presidential Honor Guard and then became a Prince George’s County police officer in Maryland where he was an academy instructor, responsible for training thousands of recruits. In the wake of 9/11, Barry was appointed the Deputy Police Chief of the United States Park Police and held responsibility for protecting our icons outside of Washington, D.C., such as the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Grand Canyon. After retiring from police work, Barry was the Director of Administration for EM Solutions until he became so critically ill.
Barry was a husband to Dr. Joyce K. Beam, a father to Kristen Beam Witt and her husband Bryan, and new grandfather to Abigail Joy Witt, age 2. Known to everyone as one of the happiest men around, Barry saved and changed lives for the better. He inspired thousands of people to join his daughter’s prayer group, Team Barry, on Facebook, where they prayed for Barry, and others in need, each night at 8:47 pm (Barry’s ID number on the police department) for the entirety of his stay at Beebe Healthcare.
As a community-owned, not-for-profit healthcare system, Beebe continues to depend on the generous support of individuals, corporations, businesses, and private foundations. All gifts, large or small, to Beebe Healthcare, are tax deductible and are channeled through Beebe Medical Foundation. Please consider making a gift today and share your amazing stories with our community.
To learn more about how you can Celebrate Excellent Care, contact the Beebe Medical Foundation at (302) 644-2900 or write to foundation@beebehealthcareevents.org.
