Marjorie Baer used to joke about her retirement plans. She wasn't married and had no kids, but she didn't intend to be alone—she and all her single friends would move into a fictional home she called Casa de Biddies. Instead, Baer developed terminal brain cancer when she was 52. But just as she'd hoped, her friends and family provided her with love and care to the end.
Baer's friends Lee Ballance and Mary Selkirk were walking their dog one afternoon in July 2006 when they saw an ambulance in front of her house. Baer had had a seizure and collapsed. Ballance, a physician, followed the ambulance to the hospital. The diagnosis was grim: glioblastoma multiforme, a particularly aggressive brain cancer.
Ballance was the first of Baer's friends to become an unofficial caregiver. Until her brother Phil arrived for her final weeks, they created a system to watch over her while respecting her cherished privacy and independence.
Baer's close friend Ruth Henrich took the lead. They worked in publishing and lived in the same duplex. Despite her busy job, Henrich took Baer to appointments and helped her with daily tasks. After an email request, volunteers signed up to drive Baer to radiation therapy. Others offered specific skills: a nurse friend navigated Social Security, an attorney helped with her will, and an accountant friend managed her bills. "There was this odd sense that the right person always showed up," said Ballance.
It wasn't easy. "It was always on my mind," Henrich said. Yet, their improvised arrangement worked remarkably well. Even as Baer lost abilities over the year, she continued to live independently, walk to the market, take painting classes, and even fly alone to visit family.
"She was a generous person," said friend Elizabeth Whipple, "and it came back to her in truckloads."
Unmarried women are a fast-growing demographic in America, and more men are remaining single. Experts are concerned about caregiving for these groups as they age. Baer's experience suggests the Internet will play a role. Services like Lotsa Helping Hands allow the creation of "care pages" where tasks can be posted and volunteers can sign up, connecting communities whose common link is the person needing help.
Eventually, informal help wasn't enough. A year after diagnosis, Henrich found Baer on the floor one morning, despite her wearing a panic button.
That's when Baer's brother Phil stepped in. He took leave from his job and family in Los Angeles to care for her full-time. "There was just no question... It made me realize how much I loved her," he said.
For weeks, Phil cared for her by day, overseeing night caregivers and consulting hospice workers. Even then, Baer's friends remained irreplaceable, providing practical and emotional support.
Several friends were present when Baer died. "We were all trying to help ease her passing," Whipple said.
Catherine Fox, another friend present, was deeply affected. "It was so comforting to know that if you're willing to ask for help, the generosity of family and friends can be phenomenal. It makes me feel secure and hopeful."