Benefield: Medicine, milkshakes and love get longtime Santa Rosa couple through cancer

In the kitchen of his Santa Rosa home, Rich Hoffman, 89, plugs in his century-old Arnold soda fountain mixer — just to hear the noise.

The machine is teal-colored, but a little research tells me the official hue is known as jadeite.

It whirs to life.

For Hoffman there is comfort in the sound, in the reliability of the old machine.

Growing up in Wisconsin, he worked at a soda fountain. He talks about how the old machines didn’t simply spin the ice cream, milk and malt powder, but brought the ingredients up and down, then in a circle.

It makes a difference in the taste, he insists.

When Toby, Hoffman’s wife of 66 years hears the machine whir to life on her kitchen counter, she hears less the sound of superior engineering, and more the hum of something different.

To her, it sounds like love.

In the fall of 2021, in the throes of her second struggle with lymphoma in three years, Toby was struggling with the side effects from a powerful chemotherapy drug.

The drug was effective in battling the cancer, but it was stealing Toby’s energy, her motor skills and her taste buds.

She found any kind of food unpalatable.

Petite already, Hoffman needed a way to take in nutrients.

Rich came up with an idea.

He pulled out the old Arnold mixer, found some ice cream, milk and chocolate syrup. He added some nutrition supplements for good measure.

He poured the shakes into steel cups, one dated 1916. He poured his wife a milkshake.

Magic.

Every day after, or almost every day, Rich would pull his ingredients and go through his routine.

It was food, sure, but it was more.

“He got everything out. It was special, really special to me,” Toby said. “It put a little sunshine in a dreary situation.”

That dreary situation has improved. Markedly.

The powerful cancer fighting drugs that stole Toby’s appetite and energy also put a stop to the cancer’s growth.

She’s not officially in remission, according to Toby’s Kaiser Permanente oncologist Ying “Maggie” Zeng, but something quite close.

“Where we are, she has no detectable cancer on the recent scan,” Zeng said.

So they stopped the regimen of powerful drugs — a move that gave Toby more energy, and most importantly for her doting husband, Rich, more time.

“In our age and physical condition, it’s not going to go away,” Rich said of Toby’s cancer. “It may be dormant for awhile, it may take a little rest on its own but they said ‘Really enjoy what you’ve got.’ That’s when we thought we need to give back a little bit.”

And that’s where the milkshakes come back into the picture.

The Hoffmans wanted a way to say thank you to their doctors and caregivers at Kaiser Permanente.

Making scores of milkshakes with his old Arnold mixer didn’t seem realistic, so Rich Hoffman wrote up his simple recipe, added a few “emotional” elements, and with the help of their daughter Janet, had it printed on 500 T-shirts.

They call it the “Shake Cancer” milkshake recipe and it goes like this:

“2 scoops of ice cream

Overflowing with LOVE

1/2 cup milk

Tons of HUGS

2 Tbs of chocolate syrup

Endless KISSES

Blend all ingredients together with kindness, compassion and understanding. Whipped cream and cherry optional. Serve EVERYDAY with lots of smiles, laughter and fun!”

It’s light, it’s sweet, but it’s meaningful, the Hoffmans said.

On Tuesday, the Hoffmans met with their care team and visited the oncology infusion center on the Kaiser campus in Santa Rosa. They handed out T-shirts to doctors and nurses, saying both thank you and good luck to anyone who would listen.

Kaiser officials said they are likely to roll up the shirts, affix the personal note written by the Hoffmans and keep them available for folks getting treatment in the infusion center.

“We felt that we got very good treatment from Kaiser,” Toby said.

On Tuesday, Toby repeatedly reached for the hand of Zeng in thanks. Rich, too, was emotional.

“We had good discussions,” Rich said of Zeng. “That amazes me. Sometimes physicians … feel they are slightly above the (patients), that it’s ‘Either my way or no way.’ But (Zeng) was very forthright with us.”

Zeng said that while the drug worked, it was almost too potent. There were difficult conversations.

“We were seeing her declining every time I saw her, every month,” she said. “I felt very comfortable to say to Toby, it’s time to take a break because the scan looks good and you don’t feel great. The toxicity can really be emphasized with age.”

The milkshakes came to symbolize something for the couple. It was a nod to their lifelong love. It was a nod to their Midwestern upbringing. But it was also a ray of hope and sweetness.

And gratefulness.

They wanted to spread that feeling Tuesday.

Rich Hoffman gets visibly emotional when he speaks of his love for his wife of more than six decades.

He credits Kaiser and their care for giving him whatever “extra” time with her in the Santa Rosa home they have shared since 1986.

“We are so fortunate, so fortunate to be surrounded by good people to support Toby,” he said.

“This is our gift,” he said of the shirts. “It’s for awareness and support of loved ones as they work their way through difficult times. We will support them in any way we can.”

You can reach Staff Columnist Kerry Benefield at 707-526-8671 or kerry.benefield@pressdemocrat.com. On Twitter @benefield.