Eventually, their help wasn't enough. One morning, a year after Baer's diagnosis, Henrich checked in before work and found Baer on the floor. Though she wore a panic button on a chain around her neck, she hadn't used it. "I don't know how long she had been there," Henrich says.

That was when Baer's brother Phil stepped in. He and Tom had taken turns earlier making trips to Berkeley to care for their sister; now Phil, who lived in Los Angeles, took leave from his job as head of air-conditioning and heating at CBS Studio Center—and from his understanding wife, Joyce—to care for Baer full-time. "There was just no question in my mind that I would do anything I could, including switch places with Marjorie," he says. "It made me realize how much I loved her."

For the next few weeks, Phil looked after her during the day. He oversaw the nighttime caregivers and consulted with the hospice workers who assisted with medical issues and helped him prepare for Baer's death. But even then, his sister's loyal friends were irreplaceable, he says, providing both practical and emotional sustenance.

Several of Baer's friends were there when she died. "We were all trying to help ease her passing," says Whipple. "Phil put his hands on her chest, and she let go."

Catherine Fox, one of the friends who was present when Baer died, was deeply affected. "It was so comforting to know that if you're willing to ask for help, the generosity of family and friends can be phenomenal. It makes me feel secure and hopeful to know that help is there when you need it."