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terminal illness

Love Stories

After wife's terminal diagnosis, man builds laundry soap device so she can remain independent

A village from around the world showed up online to help him get it perfect.

Man builds device to help after wife's terminal diagnosis.

When a loved one is diagnosed with a terminal illness, it changes everything, including things you may not have yet thought about. As their disease progresses, they're able to do less and less for themselves, sometimes resulting in a spouse being the caregiver for their once healthy partner. But for the ill person, maintaining as much independence as possible for as long as possible can be rewarding.

Artur Zamber recently shared a heartfelt story about his attempt to keep his wife feeling as independent as possible after she was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer. The activity she needed assistance with is something that many take for granted: pouring laundry detergent into the cap in order to wash clothes.

laundry; bone cancer; love story; man builds device; kindnessA washing machine. Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

"It was the detergent bottle. She couldn’t press the button with both hands anymore. Bone cancer made sure of that. And when I reached over to help her, she flinched. Not because of pain. Because of pride," Zamber writes in his post. "We’ve always been equals, me and her. Forty years of marriage and we’ve never once said 'that’s not my job.' She grew the tomatoes. I built the trellis. She crocheted the blankets. I chopped the wood. We met each other in the middle every single time. But disease…It doesn’t meet you halfway."

It was this realization that caused Zamber to figure out a way to make the laundry soap easier for his wife to dispense on her own. He got some wood and spent hours trying to design a contraption that would allow the soap to be dispensed with one hand As he worked, he quickly realized he may need some assistance. Zamber posted his sketch and explained what he was trying to accomplish in the Tedooo app, an app for hobbyists and crafters to share ideas or sell things. Soon after the desperate husband's initial post, a village of crafters from around the world appeared.

laundry; bone cancer; love story; man builds device; kindnessHobby Lobby Community - Coupons, Finds and Crafters on the Tedooo app | I didn’t build this because I’m handy | Facebookwww.facebook.com

"I posted a rough sketch. Said I was trying to make something for my wife. Didn’t expect much. But my inbox lit up like Christmas. Makers from everywhere Oregon, Croatia, Argentina sent me diagrams, photos, even voice notes walking me through it like we were neighbors," he says.

After working through the design with others, Zamber created a box that holds the laundry soap and tilts forward so his wife can pour it with one hand. The man is adamant he was not trying to "help" his wife or make something "for her," but was instead making something with her in mind so she didn't feel like she needed him to do everything for her.

laundry; bone cancer; love story; man builds device; kindnessMan kissing woman on check beside body of water. Photo by Esther Ann on Unsplash

"We don’t always get to fix what’s broken. But sometimes, we get to honor it. And that’s enough," Zamber shares.

People were moved by the post on social media with one person writing in part, "This is so beautiful. The detergent holder and everything it represents. Your story is resonating with me today in a very unique way."

"Oh my goodness, what sweet, respectful, strong Beautiful Love. Praying for your wife, and for you, seems she is in very loving hands, what a thoughtful way to honor her independence, and help at the same time. What sweet love," another said.

My Dad suffered from Parkinson’s, a disease that methodically and steadily destroyed his body and mind  — and ultimately took his life.

During my dad's last remaining days in hospice care, ​my four siblings, mother, and I huddled around him and shared, amidst laughter and tears, stories about the man he was, the lessons he taught us through his own successes and failures, and the tremendous impact he had on those around him. Dad’s life was far from perfect, and he had had a rough last handful of years. Our time together helped all of us remember who Dad was when we was in his prime —  when he was our hero.

Dad, while nonverbal, was alert and attuned to what was happening around him. Occasionally one of us would look over and find a trace of a smile on his face, an observation we would point out to him and the others. Dad was clearly enjoying time with his entire family for the first time in over 20 years.


Throughout his closing days, Dad heard anecdote after anecdote about the legacy he was about to leave behind.

People shared the memories he would leave us with. Here are the lessons he left behind for me and my family:

1. Dream big.

Dad grew up in a small, middle-class Irish enclave in Queens, New York. His father would periodically take him to wealthy neighborhoods to walk around and show him what was possible for him when he got older. The message from his father was that this could all be his. To Dad, it was impossible to dream too big. He wanted the world for himself and his kids — and fully expected us all to get it. Dad pushed us to imagine the unachievable and race like hell to achieve it. When I told him I was going to write a business book, he told me to prepare for the New York Times Bestseller list.

2. Live big.

Dad packed his life with rich and full experiences at every turn. If Dad wanted to have something, he got it. If he wanted to do something, he did it. The moment he had two nickels to rub together, he spent them. Dad lived big.

“You only go around once,” was something Dad frequently said to justify a risky business play or explain away a lavish purchase. It seemed to serve as a reminder to him (and us) that life could be cut unexpectedly short and that it would be wise to get big experiences in while he (we) could.

3. Be present.

Dad spent most of our upbringing racing around the country consulting with and training business leaders. The moment he was done working, he would race back home just in time to coach a basketball game, have dinner with the family, or play a pickup game in the backyard. He wasn’t vacant or lost in his work when he was with us. When he was with us, he was fully with us.

Long after we went to bed, Dad would return to work, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to get a proposal out or prepare for the following day’s events. He threw himself into whatever he was doing and made you feel as if you were the center of his universe when you were with him. He was magnetic. Being present undoubtedly added to his magnetism.

4. Pick your moments. (But when they appear, pounce.)

Dad rarely made a move that didn’t have a purpose behind it. He had this remarkable skill of letting the insignificant things go and dealing head-on with the things that really mattered.

5. Be interested, not interesting.

In his final days, what struck us most was the overwhelming number of personal stories from old friends and extended family about the impact Dad had on their lives. Dad was fascinated by people, and he had an art for drawing out their stories. When Dad was at his best, he was comfortably and confidently Dad. And in that comfort and confidence, he could let go of his own ego and pull out the complexities of the people he was with, instead of sharing his own with others. His sincere interest in others drew them closer to him and left them convinced they were in the presence of someone endlessly interesting.

My siblings and I were with Dad when he passed. We were sad, of course.

But there was a positive feeling in the room as well — each of us left Dad that night feeling closer to him and each other than we had in a very long time. We left armed and more cognizant of the lessons he had equipped us with.

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Sometimes, kids who are medically fragile or facing hurdles like cancer would like to just get away from it all, even if just for a little slice of time.

Enter Dream Drives for Kids, a nonprofit that began in Portland, Oregon, and is expanding to other parts of the country.

What do they do?


First, go back to a time when you got to ride in a fancy car — say, a convertible, or something really sporty — for the first time.

Do you remember that feeling? It can be an amusement park ride of sorts, and it's one of those things that becomes a great memory throughout life.

That's the idea behind these folks. Giving kids with severe illnesses a chance to ride in these adult toys is what they do. The children get to tour the garage, pick a car to ride in, and then go out for a spin.

As the narrator of the video below (and one of the founders of the organization) says, “It's like the kids we work with are going through a nightmare, and we're trying to offer them a dream."

This boy has Otopalatodigital syndrome and has had multiple surgeries. Just look at the joy on his face:

GIFs from ILikeGiving.com/Vimeo.

Or this little girl, who valiantly battled leukemia:


“We've seen kids who've come through this garage who've been dying. We've met with kids who have since died. And seeing the joy in their eyes, and the joy in their parents' faces, when they're not thinking about being sick ... is an incredible feeling."

Watch the video from Dream Drives for Kids.