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Final dance’ partners
As Lou Gehrig’s disease closed in on their pastor, congregation members became her hands, feet
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Bill Eichenberger
THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH



Judy Shook, right, with her mother, Vergene

She had spent much of her life ministering to other people when, six years ago, the Rev. Judy Shook received a devastating medical diagnosis: Lou Gehrig’s disease. Before long, the pastor of Reynoldsburg United Methodist Church needed round-the-clock attention.

The fatal illness, also known as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, causes progressive paralysis, eventually rendering sufferers incapable of taking care of themselves.

But who, Shook wondered, would tend her?

At age 62, she was unmarried. And her mother, 90 miles away in McConnelsville, was elderly and ailing.

Her only sibling, a brother, lives with his family in Fort Worth, Texas.

The answer to her prayers, it turned out, was nearby: her congregation.

One by one, church members lined up to help.

"It was the most amazing thing," said elder Elaine Clinger Sturtz, 47, of Baltimore, Ohio, who felt the pull of God.

"I’d call someone to see if they could help, and they always said: ‘Of course. What can I do?’ They seemed excited to be asked."

Sturtz, who took the lead in organizing the care, recounts the story of Shook’s last 15 months — she died on March 25, 2002 — in The Final Dance of Life: Our Journey With Judy, released last month by Tate Publishing.

John Jianotti, the owner of three Moments With Majesty bookstores in central Ohio (where the book sells for $12.99), sees universal appeal in the subject.

"So many people are dealing with the issues addressed," he said.

Sturtz shared details of the ordeal, she said, with the hope of encouraging others to "step outside what’s familiar."

"Our society is afraid of death," she said. "It’s geared so much toward youth."

With grace and dignity until the end, Shook served as an example for so many others, Sturtz said.

"Judy taught us all how to dance that final dance."

Almost five years after her passing, John Shook remains awed by the compassion shown to his sister.

"In today’s society, where many people are focused only on their own personal needs and desires, it was a miracle to see how they responded," he said.

Yet many of the volunteers — a core group of about 25 — downplay their assistance, suggesting instead that they were blessed by the experience, as if they received much more than they gave.

"Ministering to Judy showed me how much we can be God’s hands and feet here on Earth, and how God will equip us with all we need to do — even the things we don’t think we can do," said Ruth Leonard, 65, of Reynoldsburg.

Liz Marckel, 66, of Pickerington learned "how important it is to look beyond our comfort zone and try harder to help people who have no one else to care for them."

The degenerative nature of ALS, Sturtz said, required the group to organize every minute of Shook’s life.

As the disease took an increasing toll, the caregivers expanded from chores (cleaning her home, taking out the garbage) to more-intimate tasks (dressing her and brushing her hair and teeth).

Through it all, they said, Shook managed to lighten up even the darkest of circumstances.

"Even though her needs became greater as the disease progressed, she always did her best to make me feel comfortable," said Linda Scheetz, 58, of Reynoldsburg.

"Judy had an upper dental plate, and part of my job was to clean that plate at night for her. As her illness progressed, her mouth did not open as wide and I had a hard time getting that plate back in her mouth. We laughed a lot about it."

Shirley Vingle, 71, of Reynoldsburg recalled an attempt to maneuver Shook, who by then could move her feet only an inch or two at a time, across the bedroom floor:

"When I finally got her standing, I said, ‘Judy, start shuffling.’ She didn’t. I said, ‘Judy, you need to try to shuffle a little harder.’ She still didn’t.

"At this point, I became aware that Judy was trying to tell me something. Although she couldn’t form words, she could still grunt.

"I looked down and noticed I was standing on the edge of her slippers. We both lost it. We were so convulsed in laughter that we ended up back on her bed."

With death nearing, the minister was moved into the Sunrise Assisted Living facility in Gahanna, where Holly Franko served as executive director.

So moved by Shook was Franko that she altered her career path: She signed on to work for a hospice company "so that I could impact the dying process of others."

Like others, Franko values the lessons gleaned.

"I learned to treasure everyday experiences," she said. "We take so much for granted — like walking, hugging, talking, having privacy, eating what we want, working, driving, visiting with friends, going to church.

"The stress we have in everyday life is overrated. We should slow down and spend time doing the things that are truly important."

beichenberger@dispatch.com