Overcoming the narrow spot in the hourglass

By Kaylee Kruschke
Murphy News Service

The Bachmans, Ruth and her husband Dale, found themselves sitting in a doctor’s office one day in 2003 at the University of Minnesota’s Masonic Cancer Clinic, shortly after they had returned from a trip to Colorado.

It was then that Ruth heard the words no one wants to hear.

“You have cancer,” Dr. Denis Clohisy told her.

Bachman said she had noticed a strange lump on her left wrist in 2003 and thought she bruised it when she was ice-skating and fell.

The lump never went away. But, with it and its consequences, a new life mission would emerge for Bachman as she dealt with the effects of coming through the treatment tunnel.

“Cancer would have never come to my mind,” she said. “I’d never known anybody who had cancer in their hand. I tried to ignore it for about seven weeks.”

Bachman took a vacation to California with her friend Stephanie Ross, who urged her to see a doctor and have the lump examined.

“I still consider her to be my guardian angel,” Bachman said. “She kind of saved my life.”

Bachman said she made an appointment with a sports medicine doctor, who took an X-ray of her wrist, sent her for an MRI the same day, and informed her to make an appointment with a doctor at the University of Minnesota as soon as she could.

“He never mentioned cancer,” Bachman said.

As soon as she and Dale returned from a trip to Colorado she set an appointment. And when she heard that the doctor she would be seeing was from the Masonic Cancer Clinic, “that really set me on my heels,” she said.

Bachman said she drove herself to the appointment and when she was walking to the clinic she experienced her first panic attack.

“I had never had a panic attack in my life,” she recalled. “I had to call the clinic and say, ‘Is this really where I’m going?’”

At the clinic Clohisy showed her an MRI from her appointment with the sports medicine doctor.

“It looked like a mortadella sausage starting in my wrist and extending up my arm,” she said.

Clohisy, Bachman said, told her he was not sure if it indeed was cancer but it was a possibility.

A biopsy taken the next month revealed her wrist did, in fact, contain soft-tissue sarcoma, a form of cancer.

“I cried and cried and cried,” Bachman said. “Dale and I drove away from the hospital and parked down by the river and cried.”

Back at home Bachman said she did some searching online and found that most cases of sarcoma require amputation.

Bachman said she decided to tell her friends and family the news by recording a message as her voicemail, telling them to call her phone. When they did, the voicemail greeting delivered the unfortunate news.

She said she returned to Clohisy’s office the next week to explore her options for treating the cancer.

“I cut to the chase and surprised Denis (her doctor) a little bit, he assured me that I was going to have surgery but did not say anything about amputation,” Bachman said. “I said, ‘What’s going to happen if I don’t accept amputation?’

He very gently told me, ‘You will die.’”

Bachman said she realized at that moment her amputation was going to be clearly visible to those around her — and that it would certainly change her life.

She immediately began working on using her right hand more and learning to write with it since her left hand was her dominant one, she said.

“I’m very independent,” Bachman said. “And so I wanted to be sure that I could do as much as I could by the time I lost my hand.”

Bachman attempted chemotherapy before the amputation, but it did not help and resulted in the loss of Bachman’s soft curls, which have now grown back and extend slightly past her ears.

And then, her left hand and wrist were removed during surgery at the Masonic Cancer on June 13, 2003.

Bachman has two prosthetic devices, but said she doesn’t use them much, adding, “There’s no replacing your hand.”

Bachman is very active and finds ways to do normal activities, such as riding a tandem bike with Dale and using weights that strap on to the upper part of her arm, she said.

“Ruth is brave,” Diane Brady, Bachman’s friend of 35 years, said. “She faces up and chooses to move through difficult times, wrestling with the difficult, searching for opportunities to grow and what can be learned from the experience.”

It was a year after her amputation when Bachman decided she wanted to use her experience to help others. She said she was so grateful for the care she received at the Masonic Cancer Clinic, she wanted to spread the word about it through public speaking.

So Bachman, with her bubbly personality and warm, friendly smile, became an ambassador for the Masonic Charities. She created the Hourglass Fund so she could donate any money she received from her speaking engagements to support cancer research at the University of Minnesota.

And Bachman is an award-winning author of “Growing Through the Narrow Spots,” released in 2013 by Tristan Publishing.

“She has a lot of wisdom and experience to share,” Anna Itman, Bachman’s daughter said.

Bachman, 66, travels around the country and on average openly shares her story and discusses how to get through the wicked curveballs thrown at people during their lives 45 times each year.

Bachman has a saying for such challenging times that she shares with audiences ranging from 15 to 700 people.

“All change, and cancer, I describe as the ‘Narrow Spot in the Hourglass,’” she said. “The sand moves from the top part, through the narrow spot, to the bottom. It’s the same sand, but with a different arrangement. Life is full of narrow spots, not all are cancer, but they indicate change.”

The changes in life, good or bad, Bachman said, can sometimes result in personal loss, and grieving is needed.

As she comfortably walks about the room or stage at events she does not attempt to hide what remains of her left arm. She speaks to audience members in a caring, yet firm, tone and encourages them to ponder the changes in their lives and dwell on what they’ve lost, what lies ahead and what is possible.

“If you can find what is possible and focus on that, then that’s what allows you to move forward,” Bachman said. “It doesn’t mean that you have the answers to the questions, and it doesn’t mean that the answer to the question of why this happened is ever going to be answered, but it means that you can move forward with the decision to live life.”

“Thanks to [her] enthusiasm and her willingness to be open through both the highs and lows of life, Ruth inspires those around her to a full and meaningful life,” Brady said. “She is a woman of substance.”

Her husband, Dale, said his wife’s decision to become an inspirational public speaker and author is, “a fantastic use of her gifts.”

The impact of her early years

The early years of Bachman’s life impacted her ability to cope with her cancer diagnosis and become a successful public speaker.

Bachman was born in 1948 in Duluth. Shortly after, her family moved to St. Paul, where she was raised.

She said she was always fascinated with musicals as a child and often listened to her older sister’s music records from Broadway plays. The result? Bachman said she has always loved the theater and music, and has never feared public speaking.

“I always raise my hand first if someone says, ‘Who’s going to read this?’ I have never been afraid of public speaking,” Bachman said.

“She’s a joiner,” Itman said. “She’s always willing to participate in things, volunteer [and] step up when necessary.”

She said she participated in the marching band and musicals while attending Highland Park Senior High School and played Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady and Gertie Cummings in Oklahoma!

She met Dale while a student at the University of Minnesota. He was in a rock band called The Sounds of Five.

Bachman offered to sing for the band and joined the group to perform at Catholic and Lutheran churches and fraternity parties, she said.

Bachman earned a degree in elementary education, married Dale and had two children — Bryan and Anna.

Bachman taught elementary education for seven years or so before taking a volunteer job with the Guthrie Theater in its education department, giving speeches at schools about the theater and the arts, she said. It turned into a part-time job.

Bachman’s family also played a role in her success.

Several of Bachman’s family members had died before she was diagnosed with cancer. She said going through the grieving process after the loss of loved ones was a key to helping her cope when she learned she had cancer.

Bachman’s younger sister, Kristin Gustafson Hanzel, died in 1991 after being re-diagnosed with malignant melanoma, the most dangerous type of skin cancer, Bachman said.

Bachman said she spent every Friday with her sister acting as a caregiver.

“That time with her was a real gift,” Bachman said. “Thinking about that time we spent together is really a remarkable gift in my life. It’s never too late to create memories and those memories will carry you forward for a long, long time.”

Her sister Kristin struggled while sick to do some of the things she was used to being able to do, Bachman said, adding that she told her sister, “You can still do some of these things, you just have to lower your standards, you can’t do them in the way that you’re used to. But there are still things of which you can feel that you do have control and power and those are the things that you can focus on.”

And Bachman was a caregiver for her parents George and Audrey Gustafson after they had been in a serious car accident. She said she tried to give them the same message she gave Kristin: that they would just need to lower their standards while they were recovering, she said.

“That [message] really helped me when I had my cancer, having learned that lesson with Kristin and reinforcing it with my dad and mom.” she said

Embracing today and looking to the future

Bachman said during her spare time she enjoys traveling and being a grandma to her four grandchildren.

“She has a lot of energy and keeps up with my toddler and baby,” Itman said. “She is tremendously generous with her time with my kids.”

Bachman is involved with civic committees and groups too, she said, including serving as a trustee on the University of Minnesota Foundation board, chair of the Masonic Cancer Clinic’s community advisory board, member of the steering committee for the Minnesota Cancer Alliance and a volunteer on Fairview Southdale Hospital’s board of trustees.

And every year, Bachman said she sets a new goal for herself and the Hourglass Fund.

“This year, my goal was to learn and to prioritize, and I have done that. Next year, I would like to be able to be a keynote speaker at some state conventions or state meetings,” she said.

Yet Bachman said she does not care to be a speaker who lives in hotel rooms and is constantly traveling.

“I want to be a grandma, Bachman said. “I want to be present in my grandchildrens’ lives, I want to be present in my childrens’ lives and I want to be present in my husband’s life.

Reporter Kaylee Kruschke is studying journalism at the University of Minnesota.