Copyright 2004 Worcester Telegram & Gazette, Inc.  
TELEGRAM & GAZETTE (Massachusetts)
February 19, 2004 Thursday, ALL EDITIONS
SECTION: LOCAL NEWS; DIANNE WILLIAMSON; Pg. B1
LENGTH: 1052 words
HEADLINE: 'True inner peace';
Couple's love overpowers heartache of ALS diagnosis
BYLINE: Dianne Williamson

This tale contains elements of courage and patience and heartache. More than anything, though, it's the sweetest of love stories.

Thomas and Jacqueline French met when they were students at Shrewsbury High School. They got married after college, in 1983, and Thomas spent five years at University of Massachusetts Medical School and five years as a general surgeon at UMass.

During those 10 years, the couple tried desperately to have a child. Jacquie suffered several miscarriages and ectopic pregnancies, and she took various fertility drugs and shots. Nothing worked. Eventually, the strain and Thomas' long working hours took a toll on their marriage, and the couple divorced in 1993.

''It was strange,'' said Jacquie, 42, a petite woman with a warm smile and utterly engaging manner. ''I always knew inside I was supposed to be with him, even though we were divorced. I just had a feeling.''

It was three years later, during his second year as a plastic surgeon at Memorial Hospital, that Thomas first noticed the tingling in his left hand, then a twitching of his arm. In January 1996 he was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease, an unrelenting, devastating illness for which there is no cure.

Dr. French had learned about ALS as a medical student and thought back then that he would never want to live with such a disease. He knew it caused progressive paralysis, that its victims became trapped within useless bodies. He knew that death could occur within five years from diagnosis.

The first thing Thomas did when he learned he had ALS was go sailing in the Caribbean. The next thing he did was call his ex-wife. The couple cried together, then decided that life had become too precious to spend any more time apart. In September 1996, when his hands could no longer be trusted to perform surgery, he retired. Then he and his ex-wife packed up their belongings and drove north.

They bought an English-style house on 90 acres in Barnard, Vt. Thomas designed an addition with lots of windows that overlooked the fields and trees. In May 1997, Thomas and Jacquie remarried in a small ceremony in their new home. By then, Thomas had to brace himself against a windowsill as the couple stood to repeat their vows.

''Never once did I question anything about being with Thomas,'' Jacquie said simply. ''I just knew I had to be.''

Thomas' limbs grew increasingly weak and he began to stumble. When he fell, Jacquie helped pick him up. When he gagged and choked, Jacquie would pound on his chest. But neither of them ever thought of giving up, because by then Jacquie learned that she was pregnant.

''I'm getting bigger and bigger and by this time he's always falling,'' she said with a laugh. ''We were quite a pair.''

In August 1998, Jacquie gave birth to Lauren French, with Thomas watching from a hospital bed.

Two weeks later, Thomas went into respiratory distress and was told he would die without medical intervention.

His choice was simple. He thought about the woman who loved him as relentlessly as the disease that attacked his body. He believed that the birth of his daughter was a miracle, and perhaps even a sign. He chose to be placed on a ventilator, because he wasn't ready to relinquish a world still capable of bringing him joy.

That was five years ago. Today, Thomas is completely paralyzed and able to barely move just his eyelids and lips. He can no longer speak because of the tracheotomy in his neck. He can't swallow and eats through a feeding tube in his stomach. He communicates with a specialized computer that can track the movement of his eyes.

And his wife reads his lips, letter by letter. It's a slow, painstaking process in which Thomas mouths each letter and responds to his wife's guesses- ''A? B? C?'' with a blink for yes or sideways eye movement for no. Their communication is playful and light; Jacquie teases her husband when she guesses the wrong letter, and Tom can still smile when he looks at his wife.

''You think I talk a lot?'' she said, rolling her eyes at Thomas. ''Sometimes we get tired and frustrated if we talk too much. And we have our fights, but people can't believe it when they hear me say, 'Stop yelling at me!' ''

Most of their communication, though, requires no language at all.

''We can feel this great love for each other, and nothing needs to be said,'' Jacquie said. ''We have so much goodness now. Our life has changed and the simple things mean so much. I'm confident that God has put us where we are. We have true inner peace.''

They also face challenges. Because he's on a ventilator, Thomas requires 24-hour supervision and live-in health care, which costs the Frenches $120,000 a year. They get by on Thomas' disability policy, home equity loans and help from family, although Jacquie says they're slowly going broke. She reveals this fact without a shred of self-pity or worry.

''We could look at a lot of people worse off than us,'' she said. ''It just seems like we get stronger and stronger. No matter what's put in front of us, you can't knock us down.'' Glancing at her husband's eyes, she said, ''You wanna say something?''

He did. ''Everyone has baggage,'' he said, as his wife translated. ''I would not trade my life with anyone.''

Thomas spends hours a day on his computer. In the evenings, the couple chats, listens to music and rents movies. Sometimes they play board games, with 5-year-old Lauren sitting on her father's lap and moving his pieces.

''My dad can't talk, but he's a really great guy,'' she tells her friends.

The Frenches were in Worcester this week visiting relatives, and Tuesday they sat by a hotel pool and watched their daughter swim. They said they wanted to share their story to educate people about ALS and spread the word that there's life after diagnosis.

''We're blessed,'' Jacquie said. ''If people could only see what we've seen, if they could only let everything go and just be. That's what our life is about. Just being. We have love and we have happiness. Isn't that what everyone wants?''

She watched her daughter, then she looked at the love of her life. She smiled. Thomas smiled back and he blinked. Sometimes, words just get in the way.