July 21, 1955 - August 23, 2001
by Sharon Lovering
I remember the first time I met Anne Fesh. I was the new kid in the ACB office, back in late July 1993. She was fairly new herself, having been hired as the office manager just weeks earlier.
We learned the ropes of the database together — on an old 286 machine that was set up in the printer room at the back of our old office. There were times when we’d curse it together, too, when it acted up, ate data or gave us garbage data.
And we grew in our roles at ACB as well. Anne taught me a number of things, including how to make the copier survive with however little toner it had in it. She always made sure to check with me about supplies for the disk edition of “The Braille Forum.”
We enjoyed and endured Metro rides, staff meetings, luncheons, birthday parties, staff changes, working at conventions and Christmas parties. I learned how little she liked to be reminded about her birthday. Recently we found a picture of Anne standing between Bernell Grell and Jim Olsen from the Minneapolis office, and noticed something we hadn’t before: she was wearing a second name tag on her waist that said “Imagettin” on the top line, and “Imagettin Tired of Convention” on the second line. On her face was the biggest grin I’d ever seen.
Back in late December, Anne was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I felt as if I’d been punched below the belt. I also remembered how close I’d been to that stage myself. (I’ve been battling endometriosis since I was 13; had a precancerous grapefruit-sized growth removed from my right ovary in 1995.) She’d had surgery, chemotherapy and numerous follow-up appointments and check-ups, and had been in remission for a while. When her leg swelled, she received radiation treatments, which made her hair fall out.
A week or so ago, Cindy (my sister), Barbara, Patricia and I went to see her at home. We’d been told by Kathi Wolfe that the cancer had spread throughout Anne’s system, and that death was drawing ever closer. She was still able to respond, and thoroughly enjoyed the flowers we’d brought, the pictures, and some conversation.
Earlier this week (the week of Aug. 20), she had been moved over to Hospice’s facility in Arlington, Va. The tumor in her brain was growing, and she was unable to respond verbally or otherwise. Yesterday Kathi called to inform us that Anne’s death was imminent.
I woke up this morning at a quarter to five with the sense that something was happening or about to happen. I couldn’t figure out what it was. After I’d been at work a while, Kathi called with the news that Anne had died at 5:23 a.m. And that’s quite a testament to how well you know someone after working together for eight years.