Member Stories

Gail Stulberg

In March of 2002, Gail and Barry Stulberg reeled with shock when doctors diagnosed Gail with Stage III Ovarian cancer. How, the couple wondered, could they help their two small children, Hannah and Noah, navigate the tidal waves of emotions sure to wash over the family during this journey? At the time, the kids were only six and three years-old.

Thankfully, just down the road from Gail's Pill Hill hospital room, the red doors to Gilda's Club Seattle had just opened. It would be through our signature doors that the Stulbergs would discover the support, hope and care to piece their lives back together.

"One of the most frustrating things for me when cancer came into our lives," says Barry, "was that there is a lot of support for the cancer patient and the caregiver, but for kids? Zilcho. If you're a kid with cancer, lots of stuff. If you're a kid without cancer but your parent has cancer? Not a lot of stuff."

Barry searched for any kind of support for their children, but found only one class in town. When the Stulberg kids completed that six-week program, they were left hanging. Barry approached Gilda's Club about starting a children's program, and that's when Noogieland was born.

"There wasn't a corresponding parents? group at the time," says Gail, "Barry would take the kids and his laptop and do his work in the kitchen." Eventually the biweekly Parents Group evolved.

"The group helps me feel not so alone," says Barry. "No matter how well intentioned your own friends and family are, and as much as they try to understand what you're feeling and what your fears are, they can't. The people at group can. They understand the fears of having children and how the cancer is going to impact them."

Initially, Gail hung back from involvement in Gilda's Club. Not only was she exhausted from the difficulties she encountered with her treatment ? doctors tried three different chemotherapy protocols before settling on Doxil ? but, she admits, she feared that the environment would be disheartening. "I guess there was that subconscious worry about, Oh god, it's going to be very downing and depressing and difficult,'" she says.

Before long, however, her attitude changed. "I noticed that Barry was coming back from the parents? Group energized," she says. "And, the kids were coming back saying, Gilda's Club! How great! How fun!' I thought, ?I have to get in on that.? I want a little bit of that!'" Now the whole family tromps off to Gilda's Club every other Saturday ? the kids to Small Talk, mom and dad to the Parents Group.

Barry and Gail are grateful for the way that Gilda's Club has helped all of them deal with some very big issues, like the uncertainty of the family's future. What she learned from the Parents Group, says Gail, helped her feel prepared ? as prepared as any parent can be ? to field a difficult question from Noah.

"He asked me, 'Mommy, are you going to die?'" she recalls, her voice raspy with emotion. "I'm sure it was prompted by Small Talk discussions; that gave him the sense of safety to talk about it. I said, "I'm not dying now. And, if I am going to die, I would know in advance and we would have lots of time to talk about it and be prepared for it."

Her truthful and comforting answer evolved from her support group involvement this year, where she watched two families lose a parent to cancer. Though painful, Gail says the experience provided her with some peace of mind. "It doesn't make it easier for me but, if I'm gone, knowing that Barry would have a place to go, and my kids would have a place to go, and that he'd be all right ? I get that out of Gilda's Club. Knowing that there's this place and this group of people that really cares."