A Miami Journal,

A Miami Journal
Yet another installment in Garrett’s pathetically self-indulgent, imaginatively-named travelogues. Much like viewing a bad traffic accident, you may find yourself compelled to read this account of one person’s successful attempts to avoid boredom. This is the story of a late February, 2001 trip to Miami’s fabled South Beach: mecca to hedonists far and wide. I was joined on this trek by my significant other Julianna (JA), and dear old friends and fellow Atlanta residents Tad and Nancy, whom we were to meet upon our arrival at our first hotel…

Got Everything?
Julianna and I woke up late, but thankfully with a time cushion, and zipped through the ground transportation effectively, making our 7:00 am flight in plenty of time. My load seemed lighter than it should have been en route to the sky cap, and I figured out why after we’d boarded the plane: I had left my golf clubs in the trunk. Not only were my clubs vacationing without me in the car, but the bag had my sandals and a couple of other relatively important items inside it as well. Beware the perils of flights before dawn! I was certainly disappointed about a golf-less vacation, but I suppose it left me with more money to party with, so it wasn’t all that bad. The flight to Miami was spectacular, as we were lucky enough to be on the side of the plane that had the coastline view. We got a wonderful vantage point from perhaps 100 miles north of our destination on in. I was amazed at how many residential areas are served by waterways in South Florida---they’re almost like a network of roads. It was a clear day, and I suppose I could never tire of looking down at a coastline from above, as I’ve now been lucky enough to do several times. After we got our bags out of the terminal without a security check, we were treated to a scenic drive past the enormous cruise ships in port and the legendary Orange Bowl. We got our still drowsy asses to Tad and Nancy’s Collins Ave. hotel before ten, which was the upside of an early flight, and took to an average breakfast on the celebrated Ocean Drive right away.

I was uncomfortable in a dark shirt, jeans, and my black clodhoppers for the first portion of the day, until we found ill-fitting fake birks for $10 and a beach towel to replace the items I had packed in my golf bag. I prefer to call it an “idiot tax” on myself, and unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last such levy on this trip! We did a little more shopping for the girls and I began to really enjoy the very fresh surroundings. Art Deco was everywhere and interesting-looking people in attire happily unfamiliar to this Atlantan. We then went back to our fleabag, $150 a night room which our hosts were lucky to procure on short notice in peak season, so I had no complaint. I was glad to have Tad and Nancy on hand when we first saw the room so Julianna couldn’t protest the conditions in her classic Princess and the Pea manner, (everyone has their flaws, and this is one of her few). Anyway, we settled in a bit and then took off for one of the world’s most famous beaches, still with clouds in our heads from the early start to the day.

Nancy sported the first six pack, which we took to the beach and downed in relatively short order, as we had no cooler to allow for more casual drinking. The Mitchell “tour guides” took us to the portion of the beach that was most liberal, (read: most nude), which naturally enough was near the large gay pride flag, pretty much due east of the late Gianni Versace’s mansion. We quickly resumed our roles as tourists parting with cash, as we anted-up $7 each for the padded lounge chairs. (Ed note: there are no bargains in this part of the world). We took to slathering on sunblock and discussing the finer points of my newly discovered glossary of deviant sexual practices, which was good for a lot of laughs with this crowd! I was very impressed with the size of the beach, but less than thrilled about the dearth of topless babes, compared to the beaches in Europe. I can say I did my part, though, as both girls in my party promptly dropped top, which made for still more interesting people-watching as passerby would often pretend not to look. Far too soon Tad and Nancy had to leave to prepare for their night’s black-tie affair with her father, so JA and I were then fending for ourselves in this strange new land.

Pubes Take Flight!

We eventually made it back to the room mid-afternoon to get out of the intense rays, lest we be lobsterized on day one. I was interested in taking a nap. so I pulled back the sheets of our bed, thus revealing a goodly number of pubic hairs, scattered about our allegedly “fresh” sheets. It was all I could do to keep JA from fleeing the scene, but she was soon calm enough for me to track down the maid in charge of our room. Oddly enough, she wasn’t among those on our floor, but a housekeeper a floor below us, but I digress. After it became apparent that “right now” didn’t translate very well to the maid, I literally took things into my own hands. Opening a window above the bathtub, I lowered the offending sheet and shook it, taking advantage of a nice breeze to assist in the flight of the foreign hairs, confusing passerby in the process. Remarkably enough, JA was appeased, and we were on our “newly”-made bed in our birthday suits preparing to “nap.” Needless to say, this was when the maid decided to open the door to assist us. Ironically enough, JA, she of the breasts recently exposed to hundreds on the beach, mind you, was completely embarrassed. Luckily she simmered-down, and we “de-stressed” prior to a much-needed, but too brief nap, which was interrupted by our need for food.

Post-doze priority number one for me was to rectify my newly-developed cheek chafe, which required a waddle to a drug store. Upon entering the shop, I was immediately regretful for making a smart-assed remark to one of the clerks, a guy with about five silver necklaces over his wife-beater undershirt. He had asked the very attractive lady who had entered just before me if she needed assistance and I playfully wondered aloud why I wasn’t afforded the same courtesy. This prompted the store employee to ask me what I needed to find. “Nail glue, (for JA), and vaseline” was my sheepish answer, which of course he then repeated loudly through a chuckle. Certainly comeuppance for my being a wise-guy! JA would later comment that I should’ve gone back a little later in search of Depends and motor oil, just to really fuck with the guy. Anyway, the errand was completed without further embarrassment, and I was soon showering, looking out the bathroom window at the colorful passerby and gaining energy to join the fray. Soon enough, we were dressed in early-evening attire and headed out to join the masses on Ocean Drive.
We both had a mighty hunger going, but unfortunately most places were too crowded for us to be served promptly.

We wandered through the masses of Guidos, Poseurs, and Gangstas along the famed Ocean Drive, passing happy hour crowds with advanced buzzes until we found a table at Tequila Blue, a sidewalk eatery at the base of what appeared to be a top-notch art deco hotel restoration. We still had ten minutes to take advantage of the two-for-one special, and we got our order in under the wire, which would summarize what went right at this stop. It was soon readily apparent why there were tables available a this joint, after getting stale nachos slapped down with spicy guacamole dip, we got our “drinks”, (my margarita mix and JA’s Kool-Aid, posing as adult beverages). Despite our significant hunger, we had the good sense to cut our losses and eschew any entrees---not that we really had a choice, because it’s debatable whether we’d ever have gotten to order anyway, given the inattentiveness of our server. They say that service down here went south about the time they instituted an automatic gratuity a few years back. Now seeing that we were left to our own devices, we decided to abandon our half-drunk children’s drinks, leave some cash and bolt. After somehow being unable to break a ten at the bar or the front desk, I was reduced to leaving three bucks and moving out of there, post-haste. A disaster of an experience, but at least it didn’t run me twenty or something!

We soon waded our way off the beaten path, wholly unimpressed with the famed South Beach as we had seen it. Sure, the architecture was swell, and it was nice getting a change of scenery, but so far it wasn’t the place I’d expected or heard about. I must admit, however, that at this point JA and I had lost our earlier alcohol buzzes and were tired from day’s early start, so I imagine some of our problem was mindset. In any event, on through the young night we walked, now in search of a better meal and perhaps a bar vibe that felt welcoming. We decided to try to lose the big crowds, which in this case meant heading towards Washington Ave., two blocks inland. I remembered seeing a cool-looking pizza joint earlier in the day, and it was now our target.

You Didn’t Need That Eye, Did You?

Before making it off of Ocean, however, we spotted a suave, sunglassed, (in near darkness, I might add), guy dressed in layers of black dining with a similarly-clad, flunky-looking guy. “Man, that dude looks just like Dylan McDermott”, one of us said to agreement. Underwhelmed, we continued our search for chow. We finally came upon a sidewalk slice joint that turned out to be half a block up from our original target, but our hunger stopped us there before I realized it. We scored a little table quaintly positioned a few feet from frequently-passing 60-foot diesel behemoths known as city busses, but, like I said, we were really hungry. Just after we were seated, the table tightly next to us was filled by more of the LOUD type I described from Ocean Drive. We were also treated to one of their LOUD friends on an exhaust-belching motorbike for a while, but at least this gave us a distraction from the Bum that sat at the opposite table just staring. Speaking of bums, I was proud of myself for offering a simple “goodnight” to the one that had an apartment to move into in five days, as opposed to, “you have five seconds to get out of our faces!”. Who says I have no heart?

In any event, this oh-so pleasurable South Beach vibe we were tuned into continued when one of the aforementioned busses came roaring up to the curb, clipping the café umbrella above us in the process. This sent the thing into a falling spin, with one of the tips whipping literally about an inch in front of my eye. No one was hurt, but boy, were we on a roll! If nothing else, the near-disaster opened up a bit of conversation with the table o’ gangtas next to us, and that was cool, because JA and I tend to be a bit snobby until we get started.

Soon thereafter, amidst scantily-clad ladies and still more bums, strolled the now recognized Dylan McDermott, sans shades, doing some window shopping. I watched him for the hell of it, and I was thoroughly amused to see him looking at me really hard until it he was sure I knew it was him, then abruptly resuming his Hollywood cool act. Funny! Either that, or he was simply enamoured with my tie-dyed golf shirt. (Just kidding…see, in the midst of narcissism, I’m being narcissistic…forget it!) I didn’t have the heart to tell him that you pretty much don’t wear black in South Beach, let alone layers of it! Anyway, at least I still had both eyes and our surroundings were somehow more glamorous, so perhaps the night was on the upswing.
Speaking of glamour, from here we moved over a block to Collins Ave., which features numerous high-end retail joints like the Armani Exchange and Jil Sander. We enjoyed the Armani store, thanks to the club-like sound system that was BLARING dance tracks. I sent JA out to act like she was dancing while I bellied-up to the register counter and shouted: “ I’LL HAVE A GIN AND TONIC, AND, (pointing to JA), SHE’LL HAVE A CAPE COD!” It must have been funny, because even a high-end store clerk laughed. We sampled a few more of the stores, more impressed with the interior design than the actual merchandise. (This was a recurring theme throughout the trip: imaginative decorating.)

There was seemingly nothing in this town that didn’t enjoy thoughtful planning to please the discerning eye, and what a pleasing change that is from, say, most of Atlanta. Even a dive bar would have a funky-shaped mirror in the bathroom or something---most refreshing, indeed.) We soon found ourselves sampling cappuccino-like smoothies at a well-placed sidewalk table free of umbrella attacks, and we enjoyed the caffeine rush as well as some role-playing, as I pretended to be picking JA up. We then wandered back along the main strip mistakenly thinking that perhaps the crowd would now be a bit more to our tastes. We spent some time lamenting the fact that Tad and Nancy, our experienced tour guides, weren’t with us to provide guidance and wondering where in the world was actually fun, because this South Beach shit appeared to be way overrated.

After extensive strolling for some action, we decided to occupy a nice table for two at the Fairwind, a hotel restaurant on Collins with a fine view of passerby. About sixteen hours into our day at this point, and in somewhat foul moods, the Rx of huge martinis was just the tonic we needed. Despite the fact that it took us about thirty minutes to get our second round, we left there with smiles on our faces as we made it back to the room to change into our “clubbing” clothes and ingest our goodies. We gulped our wonder pills and then called Tad and Nancy to check their status at their black tie affair. Unfortunately they were running a bit late, so JA and I were left to “blast off,” as it were, on our own. I was fine with this, but it did mean that we would be on different wavelengths for the rest of the evening, but we certainly got over it! JA and I laid around watching SNL during the start of our “elevator ride” before making our way to the our rendezvous point, The Clevelander, where we got alcohol-free beverages and proceeded to dance in the tropical, tourist-y environs. Soon enough our buzz was in full swing, and Tad and Nancy showed up, having not yet reached our “floor”, if you will. JA and I continued to dance until Nance asked if we wanted to go someplace fun. Funny, I could’ve sworn I was having fun as it was, but then again, at this point I could’ve been back at Tequila Blew sipping margarita mix over stale nachos and sworn it was the greatest experience ever, so what did I know?

Four Beers, a bargain at $26

As it turned out, we were now rolling with our much-missed tour guides, and the party was just starting, even though it was about one a.m. We finally made our loving way off the beaten path, hitting Espanola Way, a side street that was home to the kind of bar I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about, The People Lounge. Inside the darkened gigantic living room we easily found couches on which to lounge with drinks. I lasted about two minutes in this pose, as the other room with the dance floor was beckoning and I was in no shape to turn a deaf ear to a chance to shake my rump. I found may way through a pair of cool, (go figure), silk curtains to the other half of the club, which had a nice little dance floor hosting a comfortable number of people. The DJ was spinning really fresh trance and I was totally loving life! Trance is my favorite to dance to because it builds up energy until you think you can’t take it any more and then just cranks in heavy bass beats. There are also trippy, slow, (hence, the “trance”), parts that are ideal for tongue hockey with your adorable significant other, which is also a major bonus. We did it up for a while, but, being old and without additional chems, I had to take a break sooner than I might’ve in the past.

Soon enough, we left this San Francisco-like club behind and took a brief but welcome walk to one of the real playgrounds: Crobar. In a converted old-style theatre known as the Majestic, on Washington Ave. This place was the real deal. Seeing that it was three ayem, we got in for half the twenty-dollar cover, which I instinctively balked about paying. All I can say is, good thing I didn’t go with the cheapskate notion! It mattered little anyway, because Nancy picked up the tab, as was often the case on this extended weekend, god love her. I reciprocated by dropping $26 for four beers, but you only live once, right? Regardless, this place was worth it---definitely the most impressive dance facility I’ve ever seen.

I led JA straight to the middle of the enormous dance floor, which was full but not uncomfortable, and we had our minds steadily blown by a ridiculous assault of sights and sounds. The requisite house dancers were on risers all around and the sound system and lights were state of the art---just plain kick ass! Again we were treated to some kicking trance, only this time while in a club instead of a store, and surrounded by a ton of kids partying harder than us, which was saying something. I enjoyed the hell out of it for a while, but, again, my age and the fact that I’d been up and expending energy for nearly 24 straight hours at this point forced me to the sidelines sooner than normal. Luckily there was a balcony around the massive main floor that was perfect for spectators, and I made my way past the VIP area, which was essentially a club in it’s own right, and found a spot to view the debauchery. Soon thereafter, the club released thousands of glow rings to the tripping masses on the floor, conjuring up images of New Year’s ’99 for Phish in NYC. God Bless America is all I can say!

We hung around a bit longer and rolled out around five, I suppose, heading for the Madonna, a “sleazy”, as Nancy described it, strip club just down the street. By this time JA and I were almost at the end of our proverbial ropes, and my fiscally responsible side once again balked at an exorbitant cover charge, $20, (ten for the ladies). I have a problem with strip clubs in general, because one is essentially being shown a filet mignon dinner after living weeks on bread and water with the small caveat that you can’t eat it! Put a vacuum to your wallet to listen to worn out heavy metal music and get your dick teased. But once again, I digress!
Having happily talked Tad and Nancy out of this financial land mine, I was happy to turn the corner and duck into our favorite South Beach dive bar, Mac Deuce. It was the kind of place that had an aging, breast-enhanced woman doing lurid dances for the doorman while keeping one eye on hot women with their dates, (us). It was more or less the perfect bar, sans a dartboard. At one point , I had Nancy in one ear hotly debating whether the aforementioned woman was indeed of the fairer sex, and a completely partying JA in my other ear, singing every word of “Satisfaction”. Just another episode of a crazy fucking day! We finally decided to call it an evening, sometime after five, and walked back through the comfortable night air back to the hotel.

To cap off this most notable day, I found myself doing something many live their entire lives without doing: inhaling a moth. As I was strolling, said insect managed to fly in my mouth just as I was breathing in and triggered my gag reflex. I staggered along, partly upchucking, trying to clear my pipe as either an aging, tripping hippie, a run-of-the-mill bum, or both passed by. Dude observed my antics and then reassured me with: “I’ve been there, dude, can you spare a cigarette?” Au contraire, mon fraire, I’ll bet you haven’t had the pleasure of inhaling a moth, thank you very much! That was the last of the notable moments of this remarkable day, as we took it back to the room and pretty much collapsed from exhaustion, me after a productive cough of mucus-covered moth wing. Needless, to say the day was quite a full start to our South Beach experience!

Did Somebody Say Drink?

We somehow got this day started around ten, which was somewhat remarkable, but, what the hell, sleep is what death is for, right? We took a little walk in the perfect weather to a quaint French-inspired eatery called the We Never Did Thank You Café. Seriously though, it was imaginatively dubbed The French Café, and came complete with a sleeping rotweiller out front and a real French waitress. Never did get confirmation on the armpit hair, but she clearly was the real thing. Both couples split large omelet orders, sipped coffee, and lightly read periodicals. The hung-over are often disinterested in a whole lot of talking. Luckily the most demanding thing we were to do today entailed carrying a styrofoam cooler to the beach and, after Nancy purchased beer and bloody mary ingredients, we did just that. If I’d had it my way, I would’ve just been hungover and dealt with it but Tad and Nancy forced the alcohol issue, and we were soon on our way to full-tilt partying again, much to my eventual delight.

Once again adorning the beach near the proudly-waving gay pride flag in seven dollar lounge chairs, we fully enjoyed ourselves people-watching. Most notable among our observations was a guy towards the water that had an enormous package. I mean, I noticed it when he was laying on his back, for godssake! I alerted the girls right away and of course Tad wondered aloud why I would catch such a thing in the first place. “How could I not!”, I probably replied. Anyway, this dashingly dark-complected alternate life-styler was sporting the obligatory Speedo ® and (rightly) seemed to be most proud of what God gave him. Now it may just have been me, but I’m not sure he had to do so much standing flexibility work, not to mention the squatting, if he wasn’t trying to impress his sexuality brethren, if you will. I really felt for his fair-skinned companion, not only for his curiously-shaped sunburn pattern, but also because he didn’t exactly “measure up” and he was probably the “catcher”. Speaking of wide receivers, this most liberal of beaches also featured a middle-aged man and his “house boy” frolicking and slathering. Now, go ahead and sue me, but as a heterosexual male, for some reason there’s something really disturbing about an aging gay guy in general, let alone with a kid young enough to be his nephew. I can’t put my finger on the why of it, but the distinguished man getting a rub from his twenty-something houseboy is just not right. All I could think was: “Kid! What the hell are ya doin’? Get ahold of yourself!” Certainly this couldn’t be the type of arrangement God had in mind when he came up with the “Sugar Daddy” concept, could it?

In any event, after seriously “catching one” in the midday sun, the decision was made to take a walk to shoot some pool and, imagine this, DRINK MORE! Our tipsy gang of four found our way back to Mac Deuce, the dive bar from the previous night, for some midday billiards, despite our condition. I was content to drink water, but soon enough we were doing shots, once again courtesy of Nancy. “Oatmeal cookies” followed by “pink ladies,” neither of which improved our shooting acumen, but definitely amped up the party. As one should be in any self-respecting dive bar, we were joined in the space by assorted “characters,” the likes of which you won’t find at say, the local Olive Garden.

Among others amused by our antics was an older woman who was either emerging from, or heading toward “bag lady” status. In addition, we were soon entertainment for a middle-aged, somewhat haggard lesbian pair that took a liking to Julianna and Nancy and made no secret of it. Of course, this prompted our two into playing their “stage” status to the hilt, and god knows what they were up to, as I was more interested in the competition on the green felt. It was, after all, the “rubber match!” I was later informed that JA and Nance’s act soon devolved into simulated lurid acts that neither Tad or I noticed, seeing that our game was down to crunch time. We had our priorities, after all. Suffice it to say that whatever the girls did, the lesbians dug it! Seeing that Tad and I were having coordination problems, we decided to give up on the billiards and take it back to the beach before we had to do another shot or something.

We proceeded to wrap up the day on the sand pretty quickly, but not before getting in a photo op with the horizon in the background. Now it was about time for happy hour, of course, so we gathered up our shit and headed across the street to Le Deaux Fontaine for two for one drinks and shellfish platters. This was a lot of fun, as more photos were taken and we even met some people from Nashville that were kind of fun to talk to as well. Soon we had to pay attention to the clock, as we had reservations at the ultra-hip Tantra at nine and still had to move our luggage north to JA’s corporate-sponsored hotel room, get showers, etc. JA sat up front and jovially chatted up the cabby on our short trip, which was quite entertaining.. Funnier still was the specter of the four of us, dogged-out from the beach and ¾ in-the-bag, rolling up to the Eden Roc Resort and Spa a four-star, luxury beach-front hotel.

From the outhouse to the penthouse, one might say, and by golly, that called for a drink! Julianna kept it together long enough to check in while Tad and Nance procured Bailey’s and coffee at the ridiculously elaborate lobby bar for transport up to the room. We did, after all, need to pep up a little to get ready for our fancy dinner.

Eventually we were all ready to go, actually appearing to be worthy of staying at such posh digs. Julianna rode shotgun once again and repeated the process of getting the driver’s name, which was nice of her. We ended up just south of the Lincoln Road strip to slip into the rarified air of Tantra; a top-shelf, see-and-be-seen dining establishment. Seeing that it was Sunday night, there wasn’t much of a crowd on hand to revel in the hindu-esque atmosphere. This disappointed Tad and Nancy, our tour guides who had raged here two nights earlier next to some guy holding court with models and ordering bottles of champagne priced in four figures. Sedate crowd or not, it certainly didn’t detract from the appearance of the rooms, which were infinitely interesting. Most notable in this interior was the sodded floor, i.e. real grass! There was a decided Indian, (dot, not feathers), theme to the place, with text on the front of the menu attempting to describe the marriage of tantric sensations and food flavor. I couldn’t really comprehend the message because the mere candle for reading light made it too much of a chore to read.
The walls were adorned with sculptures and art to meld with the reddish, very dark lighting. There was also a live DJ spinning new age-ish sounds for a very rare effect.

I must say the overly-cushioned seating and mellow tone of the place certainly didn’t help those of us on the back-end of a raging booze buzz stay peppy. The cuisine was splendid and the service wasn’t bad for SoBe standards, either. JA and I opted to skip the appetizer and share our thirty-two dollar entree in a fresh display of frugality, as things were already financially out of hand, and we weren’t even through day two yet. Unbeknownst to us, Tad and Nancy planned to pick up the tab to return a favor, so our cheapness made us look polite---go figure! I also was glad to learn a lesson: don’t let on that you’re going to get the check until it arrives! Before this bill did so, we enjoyed a tremendous desert and a few hits off the mystical, multi-tentacled exotic tobacco pipe that’s $24 per bowl. Luckily, a guy at the table next to us had ordered the smokables, and the ever-lovable Nancy talked him into sharing with us. The experience was underwhelming, but definitely different and kind of cool.

Julianna and I were intermittently fighting off sleep, so caffeine blasts in the form of espresso were ordered, along with another Bailey’s and coffee for good measure. After all, we needed something to power us to our next stop, Van Dyke’s on Lincoln at Jefferson. At this point in the day, basically only one of us was still partying, the irrepressible Nancy, who as far as I can tell is always in a good mood. As for Tad, he was battling some stomach problems, although he managed to drink at our pace anyway. JA pretty much just wanted to take her blistered feet, (South Beach is very much the urban hike of NYC, by the way), to bed. I was getting energy in waves, but I’d had two straight nights of poor sleep and was missing the next three day’s work, so my wallet was pretty much ready to call it a night, too. I was so tired that I nearly left my digital camera full o’ memories at the restaurant, but fate chased me down in the form of a Tantra employee before I got too far away. Funny how that would turn out to be a bad thing!

Ignoring our bodies pleas, we were “sports” and hit this upstairs jazz bar kind of joint where the small, attentive crowd greeted us with the warmth of Ru Paul at a Bob Jones University picnic. Out of reflex I purchased a round, opting for a gin and tonic to avoid stuffing more beer into my already beleagured stomach. Speaking of that, Tad enjoyed the fruits of spilling his guts at the porcelain god, coming away in a lightened, good mood, which is was nice! Anyway, Nancy got a relatively black eye as tour guide here, as the soft jazz place was not exactly out of the ordinary or stimulating, but I’m sure the place would’ve been fine if we had any energy left. Soon enough we all decided to call it a night and actually left hlaf full to get a cab back to the Eden Roc. I produced my camera for some shots while we waited and then promptly left it in the cab about ten minutes later.

Clearly this tragedy was Julianna’s fault, as she failed to take her customary shotgun seat for this leg of our journey, let alone ask the driver his name. In addition, none of us noticed the name of the cab company in a city where there are around fifty. Net result: a fool and his camera are soon parted; the consequences of mass brain cell extermination/ sleep deprivation! After briefly rousing the hotel security personnel with my plight, we witnessed a distinct deflation in them upon being told it was a lost property case with no sex or violence involved. We then retreated to our room, me feeling even poorer than I had with Tantra’s menu in my hand. Upon the mass collapse onto beds, Nancy insisted on calling through the haystack of a few of the local cab companies and actually seemed to relish the task, proving that she may be utterly incapable of being in a bad mood. I had pretty much written it off to karma coming back to kick my ass a little, but I’m still a little ahead of the game. The phone calls unearthed nothing, but blessed sleep was imminent to end another ridiculously full day, so recovery had begun…

So This Is How The Other Half Lives!

Ah, deluxe accommodations on corporate America’s dime, completely on the up and up…does it get any better than this? Not as far as I could tell on another glorious morning, looking out at the ocean from six floors up. After determining that the nearest breakfast eatery was cabbing distance away, we decided to bite the bullet and hit Harry's, a name that would suggest a greasy spoon joint, but was actually white table-cloth and platinum guest check place. After all, the restaurant was in a space between the enormous, piano-equipped lobby and the expansive area around the ten feet deep, Olympic-size swimming pool, so I guess it couldn’t be cheap. We were soon melting at the taste of basic breakfast items done to near-perfection as Tad and I shoveled in the afternoon’s nourishment via a buffet with a bored omelet chef. This luxury came at a cost of around $75, of which JA was able to “expense” half, god love her. Seeing that this was Tad and Nancy’s departure day, there were some loose ends to tend to, namely, finishing off the vodka and bloody mix and the beer chasers. Soon enough we were back on the beach, (this time on chairs that rented for only six dollars each), throwing back booze.

This portion of the beach wasn’t as nice as SoBe, lacking size and flavor, to be sure, but we somehow fought our way through these shortcomings. Responding to Tad and Nancy’s whines about having to leave, I suggested that, seeing that they are both the bosses where they work, they should be able to finesse staying another day. After all, the room was free! So off they went to shuffle their plans, eventually returning with rum-runners for everyone and the good news that they were staying the extra night. I was happy, but only until I did a quick fast-forward to the day the credit card bill covering this trip arrives and what that’s gonna feel like. Then again, it’s only money, and I always seem to make more anyway! We had tentative plans to go to B.E.D., yet another ultra-hip SoBe eatery at which diners are actually sitting on a bed being the “haves” while compiling a tab that would cause normal people to refinance the house. I must say that I had briefly forgotten the eatery’s provocative name when Nancy said: “Cool, I’m glad we get to go to B.E.D. with ya’ll tonight!”

We soon did the improbable and cut the drinking short, but not before Julianna was making a business call half-in-the-bag as we prepared to leave for the evening! Nancy came up huge once again, like some concierge Tiger Woods, as she found a way to “Barter” her way into an essentially free meal for six at an untested Italian restaurant back down in SoBe among the upscale shops. (Seems that she, as a Honeybaked Hams franchisee, can sell product for “barter points” and in return get all manner of goods and services through a “middle man”, of sorts---quite a perk for the small business owner!) Nance also got in touch with one of her boyfriends from high school, a Hugh Grant look-alike named Terry who turned out to be gay, and he was able to make a dinner date with us on no notice, which was nice. We headed off, camera-less, of course, back down the road to Lincoln, whereupon we took to shopping and Tad and I did our best to not trip on our tongues looking at the fair pedestrians. Tad bought a shirt and Julianna picked up a funky mirror for her new condo before we settled in for some sushi and saeki at a well-placed sidewalk café with, (surprise!), poor service. Nevertheless, our raging hunger was quelled, and we were equipped to walk and explore much more.

Tad nearly left his old shirt and it was inevitable that there was no way that thing would make it back to the hotel this night, it was just a matter of where he would leave it. Anyway, we strolled towards the beach and soon I felt like I was in NYC, what with the narrow spaces selling cheap souvenirs and third-rate electronic stores lit with glaring florescent lighting that played off the storekeeper’s gold chains. Little did I know at the time that we were steps from being a world away from this chintzy bullshit, as we were headed for, believe it or not, cocktails at the legendary Delano hotel, on the beach. Julianna, my interior design girl was certainly on cloud nine when we entered this ultra-deluxe, completely refurbished art deco masterpiece. The walk through the stunning lobby was remarkable, and the space was divided into separate “rooms” by thirty-foot high white silk-like curtains. There was tons of white, (furniture, fabric and artwork,) on dark hardwood throughout, (including the people, I might add), and everything was as perfect as you’d see in a vintage Hollywood production. We then moved past a fine dining patio to the elaborate gardens surrounding the pool that was straight out of an ad for some expensive fragrance. On either side were smartly appointed, overwhelmingly white cabanas that served as guest rooms, complete with flowing curtains of their own.

Eventually we made it through this wonderment to the smart bar area with sand for flooring which was between the pool and the palm-tree lined walkway to a gate labeled simply “sea”. At this point, I almost felt fucking obligated to go ahead and drop $12 per martini for the privilege of taking all of this in! We indeed ordered the only libation appropriate for the occasion, although three of them were bastardized---in the form of vodka as the liquor. But these people deserve pity, not ridicule, for eschewing the joys of cold gin! If I was on a high horse with my drink attitude, I was quickly bucked onto my ass when the waiter emerged to ask if: “there was a problem with the service”. Come to find out that we happened to be kicking it at one of the few places within miles that does not automatically add the gratuity into the check. I guess with the clientele here, 17% is cheating the help more often than not! In retrospect, I suppose I should’ve known that $48 only covered the four adult beverages, not the tip! Send me back to the great unwashed---post haste!

In any event, I savored my time in these swank surroundings, apparently a bit too much, because I ended up picking up the rear in finishing my platinum-priced bone-dry. This was after Nancy, of all people, made a complaint about perhaps starting to hit the booze a bit too early, but she was quickly admonished by Julianna for hypocrisy and pretty much went bottoms up from there. I was less than thrilled about having to pretty much chug my precious liquid, but we did have a rendezvous seven blocks down Collins, so I had no choice. It was only with a promise to myself of one day triumphantly returning to these posh digs as a full success that I was able to leave what were perhaps the most sublime surroundings I’ve ever enjoyed.

Mama Mia, We’re Partying Again!

Not that our next destination, Wish, on the corner of seventh was Howard Johnson, mind you. It was here, in yet another tres chic hotel/restaurant that we met up with Nancy’s friend Terry and his flaming, leather-clad partner Gator, who was most certainly a Village Person simply in the wrong time, what with the mustache and all. JA and I were quite pleased to be able to bum smokes, as we’d run out earlier and I didn’t have a spare fifty at the Delano. Gator thankfully turned out to be a typical alternative-lifestyler, in that he was witty and well-read, and that was nice. Terry was charming, but almost too pretty, a dead-ringer for Hugh Grant, and you’d better believe that bitch had the same hairstyle, too! Anyway, we had a quick cocktail and then headed up a block or so to Paisanos, the Italian place in which Nancy had reserved a six-top. The five others piled into one Gator’s SUV for a little smoke, but I opted out because, oddly enough, weed ruins my appetite. Soon enough we headed into the eatery that occupied some prime retail space and kind of chuckled about worrying about reservations, as it was about eighty percent empty.
The place was the pretty much the only example of poor decorating I saw the whole time I was in Miami. Most notable on the bad scale were the brass chandeliers hanging only a few feet from the black ceiling and the power wires for the lighting were “disguised” by bright aluminum pipe. I just kept telling myself that I’m sure there are probably plenty of decorators that can’t cook, too, and the price will be right in any event.

We were shown to a nice round table, which was cool, and we enjoyed great service, despite the apparent local ordinance banning such a thing. Of course, given tonight’s crowd, all four occupied tables had their own waiter and busboy, but in this town, you take it where you can get it, no matter the reason! The good wine flowed and the entrees were all splendid, but best of all was the company---it was just a good mix and a ton of fun. We got a kick out of a somewhat demonstrative table of ten not far from us, and fully expected the Olive Garden’s ad agency to show up to film a new commercial. They were into the Mob Hits, (an Italian songs CD title from a TV ad), that the lonely guy on the synthesizer was playing. We soon followed suit after the wine kicked in with our own rousing version of “New York, New York”, complete with Nancy and Julianna doing high-leg kicks for good measure. Before I knew it, I had a second variety of red wine to go with my glass of white proving that, despite it being a Monday night, we were definitely still partying!

Not long before we left, a party of eight twentyish girls who piled out of stretch limo were seated, parading to their table sporting the exact same hairstyles and color, (the poodle and dark brown, if you must know.) My first thought was: “wow, they have ‘bridge and tunnel’ people here, just like New York!” Looking back, I’d say it’s pathetic that I must still make fun of people even when I’m having a great time. In any event, our fine occasion finally ran out of time, as Terry had to get up at six the next morning, so we thanked him for rallying on Monday night with no notice in the first place, and were on our way. Luckily Gator was still ready to party, so the four of us piled into his Explorer with Alanis Morrisette in recurrent, belting out: “You Oughta Know”. Why I find what people are listening to interesting I’m not sure, but I digress.

We introduced more THC into the equation and drove a few blocks to Bleu---you guessed it, a primarily blue, interesting little bar with the small dance floor located alongside the bar halfway through the shotgun space, with “living areas” everywhere else. I pulled Julianna out to move it on up because they were playing good music, and the alternative was standing around trying to talk over the sound. After our brief turn “cutting the rug”, Gator explained that this was one of the places the enormous service population in SoBe lets it rip on Monday nights. That sounded fun, but we were simply way too early for that, and quickly running out of energy to boot. I’ll say this, though, if the aforementioned service people party as hard as they work waiting on people, we didn’t miss much!

I tired of dancing soon after Julianna and I were the last two out there, and soon found that all others in our party were ready to call it a night anyway. Gator was nice enough to pile us in again and drive the fifteen or so blocks back to the Eden Roc, where blessed sleep awaited. He was a doll and agreed to swing by with a “number” to make things interesting tomorrow, because it’s always good to get a little psycho-active assistance in a place like this. He seemed like he was really going to do it, and that’s cool of him because he barely even knew me. In any event, we all took to sleep pretty much directly upon our return, me being especially thankful for Nancy keeping the evenings’ price down.

“House Boy” In My Own Right

Morning came earlier for some than others; Julianna had to rise for her corporate responsibilities down in the meeting rooms and the others had to catch their flight back to Atlanta. Soon the room was all mine, so I slept considerably longer. I awoke to a call from Gator’s cell-phone, alerting me of his, and a doobie’s impending arrival up front. Sure enough, it was going to be another good day! I met Terry’s companion on the well-attended, (the driveway staff actually work for their tips!), entryway and we chatted about a future visit to Atlanta by the two of them. Soon enough, I was applying sunblock and boarding a nearly empty city bus, in spite of my run-in with one the other night, for a ride to the South end of the island, specifically South Point Park. Here one can watch the enormous ships navigate the deep-water channel on the SoBe side of the somewhat famous Fisher Island. I began the day’s walking on the fake Birks by pausing to toke-up on a pool pathway of a forty story luxury condo building with a view of Downtown and beautiful aqua water. From there it was a long walk to find one of the few benches in the park, probably because I took the long way by accident---go figure! Sat around and got depressed watching young people jumping off a pier like I once would have, thinking that indeed kicks just keep getting harder to find. It was fun sitting there, though, feeling like I was getting away with something just hanging out. Now fully baked, I made my way to a small store for water and cigarettes and then wandered all over Ocean Drive, people-watching.

Luckily, I didn’t need social skills at the recommended stop of the Wolfsonian, a museum housed in a much-boasted-about historical building. Frankly, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about, because last time I checked, white museum walls were white museum walls! Anyway, one of the floors was a very nice “history of design” exhibit consisting of all manner of antique furniture, various housewares, etc. The alleged evolutionary theme that was present was lost on me, as the presentation of the thing seemed scattershot, but it was certainly worth the five bucks. (Then again, when I first saw Pulp Fiction, I couldn’t figure out how sequence of events was flipped, so I might’ve just been me.)

Not worth a finner was the next floor, which featured a huge collection of writings by a Yugoslav of apparently great worth. Unfortunately, I was in no shape to review printed material in English, let alone Slavic! Something about the short-term memory perhaps. In any event, with cultural matters now behind me, I was off to Lincoln Rd. to people watch and window shop.

I was being anti-social, pretty much talking to no one between bouts of uncontrolled sobbing. I was, after all, killing time sightseeing instead of playing golf, and that’s simply heart-wrenching for me. Dropped by a Burger King, dammit, and had me some easy-to-obtain chow that cost three dollars, which seems to be 10% of what a breakfast costs in this town. Come to think of it, this was the one and only fast food joint I remember seeing the whole time I was here. In fact, one can travel thirty blocks or more without seeing anything but high rise condos and hotels with their own eateries, so the area must be zoned to keep the availability of cheap food to a minimum.

In any event, I strolled about the mall for a bit, but my heart wasn’t in it, so I was soon back on the public transportation, this time the only gringo in a sardine can, for the Northbound bus ride at sometimes dizzying speeds, which was kind of amusing. I exited well before the Eden Roc in order to stroll the seemingly endless boardwalk that runs along this stretch of Miami Beach. To access said walkway, I decided to enter the lobby of a hotel which in fact was some sort of time machine.

I had passed into an oldly-renovated hotel which most definitely offered some sort of AARP discount. I was the only one under seventy in this dimly-decorated lobby of jovial, active seasoned-citizens, (I could’ve sworn I saw a couple of them on TV a few months back complaining about butterfly ballots.) I probably would’ve done well to stop, chat, and possibly gain some wisdom, but again, I was in no mood because weed makes me anti-social. Not only that, but I couldn’t locate the building’s passageway to the boardwalk anyway, so I made a quick exit and traversed some brush to make it there the hard way. Soon, however, I had my fake Birks in hand, walking along the surf like normal people do at the beach. This stretch of development was pretty much charmless. Gigantic, generic, condo and hotel high-rises devoid of any personality. There were lots of old people hanging out, probably wondering what the hell I was doing, and absolutely no “friends of Dorothy”, (gays), to make things interesting, let alone hotties in bikinis. I got bored and took to the walkway to make better time back to the hotel when I completely coincidentally, (I swear), literally crossed paths with the only (very) attractive young lady within miles.

Seeing that it was the third time in ten minutes that we had nearly run into each other, I chatted her up to avoid appearing to be an asshole. I decided to continue small talk by guessing her nationality: “So, are you from Holland?” “No, I’m from Brazil.” At least I was close! Before I could look like more of a moron, we came to her “stop” on the boardwalk, the Best Western. “Have a nice day!” was all I said, going against every instinct I used to have, and continued walking, thinking, man!, I must really be in love with Julianna!

Speaking of my Angel, she had just returned to the room from work when I, her “houseboy”, finished a day of bumming around, making for perfect timing.. We gladly went low-key for the evening, dining on a seaside deck at the hotel’s “Jimmy Johnson’s Three Ring Cafe”, on some top-notch fajitas. In the process, the somewhat paranoid Julianna worried about appearances in front of business associates passing by. Best-case, it appeared that she was abusing the corporate system, (isn’t that called a ‘perk’ anyway?), by keeping a man friend in her room. Worst case, of course, it might’ve looked like she was hooking up. In any event, it was amusing to watch her suddenly cast a gaze at the ocean when certain people approached. Of course I also had to say “oh, my god, look out!” when so much as the Hispanic bus boy walked by, but that’s just me. From there we retired to our room and Scary Movie on the pay-per-view, which started out promisingly, but grew old rather quickly, further jading me towards all things Hollywood. It felt good to simply relax and stop the financial bleeding, I must say---god I must be getting old!

“Putting On” The Ritz(y)

Departure day, and I started it by once again playing the “kept” man and sleeping in while Julianna arose early and loudly readied herself for her corporate day. I slept a couple more hours, then donned a sharp white tee to go with white linen trousers in order to feign affluence at the Bal Harbour Shops, a mall as ritzy as they come in the really high-rent district. I figured if I couldn’t practice self-masochism on the golf course, I might as well peruse high-end merchandise that I absolutely cannot afford. For special irony, I emerged from the great unwashed on public transportation, and nearly got run down by a Bentley in the process. Perhaps the message was: die pretender, die! I had smoked the remainder of what Gator had given me while waiting for the bus, so I was now in a prime frame of mind to appreciate fine craftsmanship in the lap of luxury.

Most notable of my browsings were apparel stores, specifically the Ralph Lauren “Purple Label” section in Neiman Marcus. It was there my eye caught a wonderfully rich-looking yellow raincoat that just felt expensive. It looked remarkable when I tried it on, but I felt bad for having had to drag an innocent bystander, sales associate Rich Rodriguez, (he gave me his card), into my fantasy. I was a bit iffy about the $950 price tag, but it turned out to be a bargain, compared to the other, maritime-ish button-front coats that ran into four figures. Soon enough, Associate Rodriguez briefed me on the significance of the “purple label”, which is the finest the design house has to offer, and is cut from the same fabrics as Prada, Gucci, etc. As proof, I was presented with a nice cotton semi-formal long-sleeve that one might wear under a blazer for lunch at the club. In keeping with the nice, round numbers, (no fooling the loaded!), it was $650. I believe I was muttering something about how, “sure it’s a lot to spend, but you somehow feel better in something like this!” as I was noticing there were absolutely no “sale” tags anywhere. Before much longer, I was stopped wasting this poor guy’s time, accepted his card, and moved on.

The next fun stop was a store called J.W. Cooper, a western-themed place for the cowboy who’s struck a gusher. Front-and-center were display cases, normally full of fine jewelry, featuring all manner of “belt sets”; i.e., buckles, tips, and whatever you call the things that serve as the belt’s overlay loop. All precious metals, sizes, and designs, (or should I say “degrees of gaudiness”) were available, starting at around eighty dollars and running well into four figures. To think that there’s a luxury market for these things never even occurred to me. What’s next, platinum egg timers? Anyway, as you’d expect, there were also top-shelf belts, leather clothing, handmade cowboy boots that were nothing less than works of art, (and priced as such)! Needless to say, I thanked the man for answering questions and moved on empty-handed, heading towards the “food court”, which consisted of a few ritzy patio cafes and a luxury-priced coffee shop. I enjoyed a beverage and a slice of cake, amused at the wintering women passerby and wondered which weighed more, their jewelry or their makeup.

Not long thereafter I tired of not being able to afford anything and crossed the street to Sheraton’s Bal Harbour Resort. This was a plush, somewhat by-the-numbers establishment that had the most elaborate pool I’ve ever seen. Picture a gigantic, tropical putt-putt course with lounge chairs and umbrellas, and you pretty much have the idea. Here I relaxed and read a New York Times instead of attempting to locate a lush, seaside park I’d read about. My contentment to veg was probably due to the fact that my fake-Birk-abused feet were no longer comfortable in the black closed-toe shoes that were pressed into service for the day’s dress-up outing. After my extended lounging period grew old, I called it a day and hopped another bus back to the Eden Roc in order to meet Julianna for our trip to the airport.

The flight back was a letdown compared to our scenic arrival because we were on the wrong, (right) side of the plane, as well as over the wing. I took this as a bit of a slap back into reality, as if I was headed back to real life, which entails sometimes not having a view as fun and interesting as Miami Beach!

My Mommy's Final Months

The following is an account of my mother Beth Phillips' diagnosis and ensuing death from lung cancer. I compiled an e-mail list of her family and good friends and submitted these updates over the course of several weeks in Autumn, 2009.

Hello all,

Our favorite girl has been assessed with a health problem much more serious than the the environmental mold at her dwelling that we first suspected.  She has been diagnosed with a sizable tumor in one of her lungs that is suspected to be cancerous.   She was hospitalized at Emory Medical Center, which is one of the finest in the country, last night, and will remain for at least one more night.  They were planning to do a biopsy this morning to assess specifically what we're dealing with, but complications arose due to an irregular heartbeat so they must stabilize that prior to performing the procedure.  The doctor said the heartbeat issue is likely due to the stress of her condition in general and the impending procedure more specifically.  He didn't seem overly concerned about it, but they will administer blood thinners to reduce the stroke risk involved and plan to do the biopsy tomorrow morning.  This procedure involves going down her throat into the lungs and the doctor assures us that this procedure is not at all risky, merely uncomfortable.  She will be numbed and drugged for this but not put under.  

After the diagnosis is made, (which apparently will be in short order), decisions will be made on how to proceed.  They say one possibility is to remove the growth along with a portion of one lung, which can then be restored to function at half it's previous capacity.  Obviously this depends on what they discover, however.   On the plus side, she has been able to find a pain killer that agrees with her and the pain she has been enduring in recent weeks has been checked for the time being.   Also, I have encountered three doctors and other staff and found them to all be quite helpful and competent, from what I can tell.  The biopsy guy came by and explained everything thoroughly, which obviously pleased Beth.  Her main doctor doesn't have much of a sense of humor, but I'm thinking the more serious he is, the better, and he was also very good with explanation.  I know this because Beth's sarcasm drew barely a grin from him, and I suspect this was only because his brain told him: "apparently that was humor, smile now."  It was a chuckle-worthy line though, I can assure you.  

Her spirits are as good as can be expected, and she is at least relieved to finally know what the fucking problem is.  None of us are sure why it took a second trip to the ER  and a couple other doctor visits to diagnose this, but I guess that's how it goes.  The important thing now is that she seems to be in excellent, caring hands.  She also has a particular couple of local friends as excellent advocates who also lend a feminine touch to assist with her ordeal while I play the role of the steely optimistic male.  She only reluctantly allowed me to compile this update, as she didn't want to cause undue concern.  Only when I  asked her if she would want to know if one of you were in a similar predicament did she agree.  I guess the point is she can assume you will all be full of hope and good wishes, but it would probably be best if she wasn't deluges with phone calls right now.   I will try to stay diligent with these updates, as I will never be too far away from the situation.  Love to all, and I'm sure we'll feel your positive <<>>!

Regards, 
Garrett

She is still stable and resting relatively comfortably.  A heart guy did a sonar test on her today there in her room and he seems to think the heart issue is directly effected by the mass, as it is pinching her pulmonary artery.  A consensus is building that she won't be out of the hospital until the tumor is removed, regardless of the biopsy results.  Time will tell, of course, but it's looking like a multi-night stay to be sure.  Her brother Tom and his wife Linda expect to be in town within a day or two to lend their support, but I imagine they will be the extent of visitors she'll be want for the immediate future.  I'll let you know as that changed, needless to say.  She appreciates your sentiments and I will keep you posted as I learn new info.  


Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 10:04 PM

A friend pointed out that despite the fact that it took a while to diagnose this tumor it's a good sign that previous blood tests didn't produce a red flag showing cancer.  Perhaps there is a good chance that the tumor is benign and/or was caught early enough and Beth will fully rebound, albeit emerging with 1.5 lungs.  Just a thought to help keep positive.   We are still expecting to have the biopsy done tomorrow morning.  She is on medication to regulate her heartbeat to allow the procedure to proceed safely.  She also had a cardiac guy run through a thick volume of questions regarding her heart history, etc. today for whatever that's worth.  On the downside, she ran into an adverse reaction to the painkiller we thought was agreeing with her, experiencing nausea and general discomfort.  Hopefully they'll find one that works sooner rather than later..  She hopes to try acupuncture tomorrow, as there are such professionals on staff at Emory.  Another good thing about this hospital is the food was certainly a notch above normal hospital fare.   She also has a room to herself, we assume out of sheer luck.  The picture on the TV sucks though.  ;)
Anyway, thanks again for the kind words and <<>>, and I'll certainly have an update tomorrow as soon as I know something..

Wednesday, September 23, 2009, 10:16 AM

She was moved to begin the biopsy procedure at 8:20 this morning.  Again, they say this procedure is not dangerous but she will be zonked on various drugs, so it will be a while before I can update her condition.  I'll relay info from the Doctor as soon as I have it..

Wednesday, September 23, 2009, 12:29 PM

Hello all.  News, but not good.  The diagnostic procedure went smoothly and Beth is fully lucid  and deliberating options.  The tumor is malignant, and it is in stage 3A, which means it's inoperable, in this case due to it's proximity to the pulmonary artery.  Stage 4 is the worst, but neither of us asked what that was, but at least our situation could be worse I guess. The doctor biopsied various locations and found cancer in the lymph nodes and the lung.  An oncologist is the next act, and he will first perform a PAT scan, which entails releasing sugars into the bloodstream to discover which cells absorb it most rapidly.  This will determine how far the cancer has spread,and will happen later today. 

At this point chemotherapy and radiation are the only real options and Beth is obviously troubled with this decision, as she's not your every day girl.  She will hear out the oncologist and her attending physician and mull it over, I suppose.  She says she's not particularly afraid at the moment, more resigned as if "what the hell are you gonna do?". 

Thanks again for support and I'll keep you posted as always.  


Wednesday, September 23, 2009, 8:29 PM

Hello again all,

Beth is still alert, relatively normal and currently chatting it up with Aunt Linda. 
An oncologist showed up and answered questions for Beth regarding chemotherapy, but he could only answer in broad terms since there are no test results yet.  It appears that the PET scan will be done tomorrow and we expect she will be released pending the PET scan results, which as noted below may take a few days.  On the other hand, if her heart is still acting up, she may be kept later.  Medication seems to be doing the trick on that end, as today was much better than yesterday.  The good news is she has plenty of help and all are happy to do so.  More tomorrow, of course.

The following is what Nancy, one of Beth's friend's, surmised prior to the oncologist showing up.

Hi Gang: I spent the day with Beth.. She got the biopsy report today: Stage 3 lung cancer Not operable because the mass is highly integrated with the vascular system at this point. The mass takes up half of the right lung. There is lymph node involvement in both lungs. They ordered a full body PET scan which will reveal whether the cancer has spread beyond the lungs and lymph nodes in the chest. The doctor who did the procedure gave her this brief news and said they had  asked for the oncologist to come and talk with her. The oncologist never came and we were told he may not until the PET results are known because he cannot really recommend treatment without this info. Late in the day, a general medicine doctor dropped by on obligitory rounds, and we squeezed him for every piece of info we could get. He was not much help and said that the oncologist would discuss her options with her. He said it could take a few days to get the PET scan results, and the oncologist would not order any chemotherapy before reading the PET results. I was astonished and said that I found it hard to believe that they would give a patient such biopsy findings, and then leave the patient hanging for several days not knowing what their treatment options were.  I asked if they would let her stay in the hospital until she starts the chemo (if she chooses that) and until they see whether there will be any effect on the tumor, and he said probably not.  He agreed that without any treatment, the mass would continue to constrict the pulmonary valve, and press against the heart which is "agitating the heart" as he put it. We made a list of pointed questions for the oncologist when he does drop by. Beth has a lot of family coming down this weekend, and she is not really in the mood for too many visitors as of today anyway.  She asked for your prayers....a full healing if it is her soul's choice, or to flow with the process the best that she can. I will keep you posted. Love, Nancy

Thursday, September 24, 2009, 3:11 PM

She has had the PET scan about an hour ago, and was pissed that she wasn't on adequate painkillers as she tried to lie still on the table for the procedure.  Other than that the procedure went well and we are waiting for the results.  Her heart has stabilized and we suspect she will be heading home tomorrow sometime whether the results are in or not, which is nice.  Even though the test was not good times she is now in quite good spirits, cutting up with the chirpy, buoyant nurse and so forth.  The attending physician was reading her chart to her and it turns out the cancer has begun eroding her ribcage structure, which would explain why her coughing produces such pain at times.  She is going to meet with a pulmonary guy to discuss her treatment options/survival odds before she decides on whether she wants to undergo chemo or not.  They say chemo treatment is more specific and they have better options for controlling side effects, so that will weigh into the decision too.  BTW, I forgot to mention that an earlier diagnoses of Beth's condition was hampered by the fact that her tumor was hidden in x-rays by bones or something along those lines.  Anyway, the net-net is we still have to wait for the PET scan to get real answers. 

The radiation/oncology doctors dropped by, a man who appeared to be Jason Bateman's little brother and a female doctor who also appeared to have walked off the set of ER.  He explained the process of radiation, which were obviously unpleasant.  The doctor seemed highly competent based on his speaking skill, but then again so does Obama.  Just kidding.  He also sounded more optimistic about the managablility here and a relatively extended life, so we have that going for us.  Anyway, I just got called for a work job, so I'll send this off now and update you in a few hours from now for sure. 

  Her sister-in-law arrived last night and daughter Dena will be arriving with her fam sometime Saturday. 

By the way, Beth LOVES for me to read messages and thoughts from all of you.  Light anecdotes from your day-to-day lives are certainly welcome along with the deep sentiments.

Thursday, September 24, 2009, 10:38 PM

Nothing really new since the last update.  Expecting to be discharged tomorrow and just waiting for the test results.  I meant to mention in the last update how amazing Beth is to observe through all of this.  She has no self-pity and rarely complains unless the pain is significant, and even then she doesn't say much about it.  She's just matter-of fact about discussing it and has a "well, what are you gonna do?" almost accepting outlook about the whole thing.  Sometimes if she wasn't sitting in a hospital bed you wouldn't necessarily know there was a problem, especially when her pain meds are right.  I imagine when she gets back to her house she'll be cool with more phone calls, although we all know she'll always be an introvert, so I may be speaking out of turn a bit.  The other thing is she can field calls on the land line there instead of blasting her bare-bones cell phone plan into the stratosphere.   Many have sent nice sentiments to me personally, which I appreciate.  I am loathe to make any of this about me however, because caring for her is a privilege and I would never consider it to be a chore.  It is emotionally draining though, but I'm trying to stay positive and stay busy doing these updates and staying abreast of the process.  I intend to completely lose it only after receiving the most dire forecast, and I assume that simply won't be coming.  I have been very lucky to have had no real personal tragedy in my life and I really don't intend to start now.   I also suppose her good spirit in contagious, which is nice.  She makes it easy to stay positive.  I'm also happy Al Gore invented the internet, because it feels good to keep all of you posted in one fell swoop and I'm happy to help.  Thanks again for all the kind responses and feel free to keep the messages coming, especially little life updates from your lives.  She really likes those.

Saturday, September 26, 2009, 3:15 PM

She is home in the house she has moved into in her wonderfully loving community.  It's kind of odd seeing her in real clothes again, up and about but obviously a very good thing.  She is in god spirits and very lucid, although obviously her energy is down. The fact that this is the day her stuff is being moved from her previous residence next door is pretty much the last thing she needed to deal with, but it will be nice to have the ordeal behind her later today anyway.  Thankfully her friends in the community have risen to teh occasion and are doing all of the legwork, packing, and so forth.  Special thanks to Tovah, (tmelaver on this list), for spearheading the effort and just kicking ass in general.  For those of you who don't know, Beth will now be living in a more spacious townhouse with the best kind of roommate: one who is rarely home.  She is a great lady, as is pretty much everyone in her community even though they once gave me a lukewarm response to my stand-up act.  Then again, who didn't?  But enough about me. 

The doctor had nothing new this morning upon discharge. and she went to visit the radiology guy and they placed her in position and "mapped out" where the treatment will occur on her body should she decide to go that route.  She is on medication for the heartbeat issue, and that has been under control in the past 24 hours anyway, and we may assume that it's not a significant problem, otherwise she probably wouldn't be home right now.  Her pain is lingering but manageable, and it seems she has found an agreeable painkilling method, which is nice.

She's thoroughly enjoying her visit with daughter Dena's family, which is also nice because as usual she was stressed at the prospect. It was very comfortable for the get-go when they arrived, as far as I could tell.   That's about it for now.  More as I hear news.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009, 9:26 PM

Just got back from hanging out for a few hours and I'm not going to lie: it was troubling.  The combo of the pain killers and the extent of the disease has made lucidity elusive for our favorite girl.  She is "there" in spurts, which is re-assuring I suppose, but loses her train of thought pretty regularly.  Linda said that earlier in the day she was far sharper, which is also good news.  I'm hoping for more of a happy medium between pain being killed and delusion, but I guess this is going to be part of the process that is so foreign to me.  Linda says she's dispensing roughly half of what the advised dose would be, and we all know Beth wouldn't be interested in doing any more drugs than necessary and I know she's mentally there enough to still know the difference.  Anyway... She did take one brief phone call that she enjoyed, but probably wouldn't have had I not more or less just handed her the phone.  It's difficult for me to not force what I think would be good for her, (hearing loving voices), on her.  We discussed it and think the best idea might be to just ask her now and then if there's anyone she wishes to talk to and leave it open for her to say a name if she's thinking of one.  We also suspect that after she has her full prognosis and is at peace with how to proceed she will then be more willing to engage visitors.  Things are obviously hectic and disjointed right now, but that should pass soon.  I understand that most of you aren't the typical types who would drain a lot of energy from her with a visit, but it would obviously be a drain in the best of circumstances right now.  What I'm trying to say is I assume that loving visits will be much more of a blessing than a drain after more is known.   I did read her e-mails from her inbox today, and she enjoyed them as usual, short attention span or not.  Sometimes she would begin with a response for me to type and tail off into nothingness, which wasn't exactly the highlight of my day, but what are you gonna do?  Suffice it to say that despite the brief, (or non-existent)  replies from her, your messages were heard.   Big day tomorrow morning.  I'm sure we'll all feel the love and go on its strength regardless of what we learn.  Thanks for the support everyone.

Good night, Gar(y)rett PS: for you locals, I suppose a casserole or flowers wouldn't be the worst idea if you feel very compelled to contribute.  Linda and Tom are doing yeoman's work with their assistance and a night or two off from cooking/meal planning wouldn't suck.  (This is entirely me saying this, btw, I didn't even ask her.)

Wednesday, September 30, 2009, 12:55 PM

No drastic news from the doctors, i.e. nothing we didn't already know, really.  Beth has been fully advised as to her options regarding radiation, what to expect, etc.  From what I gathered the estimate for her life span from here without treatment is 4-6 months, but obviously that's merely a guess.  With treatment will increase the quality of life in the meantime, but the cancer won't ever be cured and her life span will obviously increase accordingly up to a certain point.  More later----I gotta go to work. 


Friday, October 2, 2009, 9:03 PM

Well, the emergency room visit continues, some 10 hours later.  She's still has a semi-itchy hives outbreak over most of her body.  She worked up a fever of 105 for 30 minutes or so about an hour ago, but luckily they stabilized it.  They suspect it may be related to an infection or something, but it also may be a allergic reaction to the drugs she's on currently.   She's still coherent and manages a chuckle now and then as the current ER doctor, (who is quite hot and charming, I might add. She's exotic--- Indian or Arab).   She's going over the standard questions about medications and recent symptoms, etc.  You know, the kind of stuff that's on half a dozen forms she's already filled out and questions she's already answered earlier today.  It's not like this is her third or fourth hospital---it's the same place.  Do we really not have a computer database from which this info can be shared?  Why on earth did this doctor just have to call Linda to figure out what medications Beth is currently using? 

They have had to take her off the patch pain reliever that was so good at regulating her pain level in an effort to find the culprit for this latest allergic reaction, but a couple recent oxy's did the trick for the time being.   She will also get something to control her itching.  There are going to be more tests to determine the causes, but the fever thing has kind of thrown them a little.  Beth is going for an MRI tomorrow afternoon to get a better idea of what they're dealing with in her brain area, to make sure there has been no spread up there.  The Doctress From Which Fantasies Are Made said she plans on consulting with another doctor to find an agreeable pain relief plan.  She also explained why they have to confirm the medications and details about patients regardless of what's in a database, explaining that often times patients tell different stories to different doctors and some are stubborn and fail to take certain meds, etcc.  In other words, I think it's because people are stupid.  Generally speaking, of course! 

More updating later tonight, perhaps.  "Stabilized" is the key word for now.

Sunday, October 4, 2009, 9:36 AM

Well, she's back! (relatively speaking).  And I don't say that simply because I am a relative, but I mean relative to last night.  She spent a long period yesterday and last night in a state of amnesia and delusion, but she wasn't thrashing about or anything.  She would wake once in a while with a confused look and not know who I am.  I went home for a few hours and got some sleep and got back here just in time for her awakening, both literally and figuratively.  Right when she woke up she had no idea where she was or why she was here.  I told her she had cancer, and she said "oh, that's right."  Then she began to weep and apologize to me.  I was so happy to have the chance to lay with her and comfort her again.  I was very worried that such an opportunity had passed.  I also got some decent one-liners in  while I was feeding her and elicited a few chuckles, which was glorious. 

She was offered different immunization shots by the nurse and turned them all down on the off chance that they might make her live longer.  She is definitely ready to check out of this life now, and who could blame her.  I can only hope that she is able to surrender to the flow and not fight this too hard.   Seems like doing so would be to give cancer more credit and satisfaction than it deserves---like holding a grudge against some asshole with whom you have crossed paths. 

She wants to get out of the hospital and knows for sure she doesn't want to expire here.  She's not afraid of death at all right now, just not interested in the suffering part.  I pointed out that I'm kind of jealous because she's going to get to see what's on the other side soon and she readily agreed.  She's kind of excited about it, actually.  She just told me about little "trips" she's taken recently, an advanced dream state in which she saw her niece Paige as real as I'm sitting here.  She says it's unlike dreams, but more like a different plane of existence.  This is happening only for a minute in the midst of a napping session.  She'll speak out loud, move her hands for no apparent reason, and snap out of it---that's how I learned of this just now.  It sounds similar to a DMT trip, which is a smokeable powder that triggers a large blast of serotonin, (released in small doses when we dream), from the pituitary gland, and hurls the user into an alternate reality---the fourth dimension if you will---for an intense but peaceful and highly entertaining 6-7 minutes.  They say this same phenomenon takes place naturally the moment we are born and just after death as well.  I suspect that Beth is experiences glimpses of this now, although I could be reading too far into things.  I know I've taken several DMT trips personally and she's desccribing something between a trypical dream and a full-on DMT trip.  But back to the present...

Paige is coming over solo in a few minutes, and Tom and Linda can take a well-deserved break.  They have been far more than stellar with their assistance and deserve major props for dropping everything and representing.  I'm glad they'll have some time off while Paige and I carry the ball for a while.  Anyway, time to post this and move on with the day.

Sunday, October 4, 2009, 5:52 PM
Well, we finally encountered a douchebag doctor, Dr. Ribner.. It took about ten we've seen, I believe, but this guy had a very abrupt manner and had no charm whatsoever. First he barked out orders to turn every light on and then literally said: “Do you want me to kick these people out before I get started with discussing your condition?” Beth's eyes narrowed, and she curtly replied “in no way, shape, or form do I want these people to leave.” He then lied, saying: “I'm required to ask that.”. (If that's the case, every single other doctor we've seen is breaking the rules. ) Anyway, this was all done without introducing himself to either me or Paige or even acknowledging our presence. Beth was duly short with the guy---he might as well have been a cop who pulled her over. At one point he also literally said: “Well, it's better to not have an infectious disease that to have an infectious disease.”, and wasn't kidding.

Turns out he was the infectious disease doctor, and he came to the quick determination that Beth's rash was an allergic reaction to the narcotic patch that she wears, which makes sense, I guess. On the other hand, this is a holier-than-thou doctor in his late 40's working Sunday afternoons, (that is not exactly the top of his profession). If there was ever a doctor who would prompt an urge to get a second opinion, it would be this one. Happily Beth is doing fine on the pain with tylenol and another non-narcotic, so the patch is dispensable, at least for now. She is also fully lucid all through this day also, which is great.
The inadvertent good part about Dr. Ribner is that after his whirlwind of negative energy passed we had numerous laughs making fun of him. After Beth's energy pals coming by to meditate, (one nurse remarked about the love she could feel in the room), and Paige and I being laid back and cuddling with Beth all day, this clown might as well have poked us all with cattle prods. It was really quite funny.
Anyway, from what we can gather if the blood cultures taken Friday and today come back not indicating an infection, Beth will be back home. The hives/rash are receding and the fevers could easily be due to general stress and/or leftover reaction to the narcotics. The point is if the fever can be controlled with tylenol here, there's no reason it can't be in her own bed as well. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.  More news as it comes in, but that will probably be tomorrow because I'm going home.  Daughter Dena is due in this evening for a few days and I will figureatively pass the attending offspring baton to her for a while.   

Monday, October 5, 2009, 10:32 PM

Well, the die has been cast: Beth is going with Hospice and eschewing the diabolical traditional Western medicine mindset.   Yes, she will pass on participating in the borderline torturous treatments that delay the inevitable that she is in fact somewhat excited to experience in the first place.  Her condition here at the hospital has certainly stabilized enough for her to make it back to her beloved community and find some peace.  Her rash is well on it's way out, and her bouts with fever have likewise subsided, which is nice.  She spent the day amidst her daughter and niece Paige, followed by Cousin Rick, followed by me.  I was happy to get the solo slot to end the day, for sure.  We had wonderful deep and fruitful chats that drew both tears and laughs. 

She also helped me write a joke for her eulogy, which threw us into laughter in the midst of crying.  (I imagine this phenomenon creates the equivalent of a rainbow of some sort in a sterile hospital room, we really need to work on a name for it!)  Obviously at her eulogy I will open with said joke, mostly because that will probably be the only words I manage, but it will be triumphant.  Then again, I may be flattering myself.  The sad fact is I'll never know because people will laugh out of sympathy even if the joke sucks.  Any comic would rather bomb than get sympathy laughs, even if his Mom dies for you to get them.  But I digress...

Beth will be back in her house tomorrow and greeting all three of her brother Tom's girls as the week progresses and Paige and daughter Dena depart to take care of their families.  While she loves and adores those of you on this list, she's flat visited out right now, so I regret to say that outside the fam stuff won't be happening until next week at best.  Even though she loves the talks and the visits, at the end of the day it's a massive drain on her energy.   With the ebbs and flows this disease you never know when a really good day might pop up, and I'll certainly keep you posted on that front. Just know that she loves you all and appreciates greatly the notion that everyone wants to be with her---it's just not currently feasible.

So that's it for hospital updates, and I'm slightly saddened that there will be no further douchebag doctors to provide update fodder.  I must say yesterday I had no real energy or desire to write anything outside of nuts and bolts stuff, but that guy was my muse.  Here's hoping I find another one soon.  Also, some of you have mentioned wanting to meet me and/or know more about the smart-ass on the keyboard.  You're in (bad) luck, because you can sort of meet me at www.blogtv.com/people/witstream.  It's a vlog I used to do quite consistently until it occurred to me that I wasn't going to make money at it anytime soon and it was keeping me from more productive things. 

Thursday, October 8, 2009, 10:32 PM

Hello all.  Beth is now comfortable and in her own bed, in her own room staying relaxed.  Her pain in under control and she still has her sharpness of mind.  The main problems now are pretty extreme shortness of breath with any amount of exertion and low overall energy.  It seems that this will be par for the course from here on out.  She enjoyed Katie's 4 mo old baby and will have more family in through the weekend, including her sister Sally and her husband Don, who have been in Europe until this week.  The family caretakers are fine for the short term, but considerations and feasible helpers/care options are being discussed for the longer term, as Linda, Tom, and Dena can't drop everything indefinitely.  I can carry the ball on weekends, but can't really afford to miss work weeks.  I suggested that perhaps local friends could form a posse to take one day a week, but Beth is reluctant to impose and apprehensive about how much energy a relative scattershot schedule of people coming through might absorb.   Obviously time will tell regarding all of  this, but planning long term care will be a priority sooner or later.  Looks like I just spent several lines thinking out loud, but I guess this gives you an idea of the feel around here today, and that's the point of the updates. yes?  Anyway, that's all I have tonight.  Looking forward to the weekend.

Monday, October 12, 2009, 1:30 PM
 Hello, all.
Sorry for the lack of updates lately, but we've been in a consistent holding pattern the past few days. Beth has been mostly in her bed receiving family when she feels up to it but her energy wanes quickly sometimes. Happily there have been no complications along the lines of the rash or fever spikes that sent her to the hospital the last time. Main caretaker Dena has a cornucopia of pain relievers, anti-constipators, and anti-anxiety meds to dispense as needed and none of them cause side effects other than a rather constant spaciness. She is on constant oxygen, thanks to the pump next to her bed that makes a quite soothing noise as it does it's business. It takes very little for her to be out of breath, and this causes her anxiety for a couple of minutes until she gets it back, needless to say. All in all she is doing relatively well, but certainly not great.

Beth and I are currently tackling the task of writing farewell letters to two beloved constituencies: her clients in her energy pracctice, and her friends and neighbors in her co-housing community. She is sharp enough to know the sentiments she wishes to share and also coins phrases in pertinent spots. I clean it up, make suggestions, and also make jokes of questionable taste along the way to make her laugh. We have always enjoyed writing/editing things together, so this is fun for both of us despite the garish circumstances. I must say that freely making jokes about death is a whole new topic I have never really mined, for obvious reasons. Having a Mother who isn't afraid of dying and can laugh at gallows humor can be fun---who knew?. (I just read the last few sentences to her and she confirmed that she's still not afraid of dying and doesn't expect this to change, but I digress)

Sister Sally and hubby Don are in town for a visit, which means a lot to Beth. All of Uncle Tom's family has been around the past several days at various times. His oldest Kate (The Great) came for a few days with her four month old Elsie, who put a smile on everyone's face. His youngest Jenny brightened everything she was around as usual, and Becky is still here with her hubby Jaime keeping things light and bright. At a rippling 6'3”, 275, Jaime has brought a special skill to the table: carrying Beth downstairs, threshold-style, so she can sit in the living room for a while. Oddly, her making it down there caused a bit of a problem...

She was seated in a full living room when I arrived last evening, and I assumed she had taken an abrupt turn for the better. So then “SCOTT” showed up on my caller id, so thinking it was Cousin Scott, who has called a number of times, I answered it. Turns out it was my local friend Scott, who I hadn't spoken with in at least a year. It also turns out that they sound almost exactly alike. So I'm like: “Scott---you've finally called at a great time---Beth and a bunch of cousins are sitting here---say “hi” to her!”  So my buddy Scott, (who at least has met Beth several times), was thrust into a conversation with her, and Beth thinks she's talking to her beloved nephew. Oops!

So Beth carried on a lovely two or three minute conversation with Scott amidst the clamor in the living room. She says she suspected Scott had a cold at one point, but never mentioned it---things just seemed slightly off. Anyway, I grab the phone back and hear: “Scott Helyer”. So I'm like: “You know Scott Helyer? How'd you meet him?” He responds: “No, idiot---I'M SCOTT HELYER!” Boy, did I feel like a heel!

I'm happy to report that Beth now has music in her room, thanks to a rarely used, nice-sounding mini hi-fi system I have had sitting around.  I have brought over a number of her favorite CD's for her to listen to and things are good along those lines. Dena has proven to be a most stellar caretaker, being on the job more or less constantly for the past week. Juggling the dispensing of the medications and all the other things is no easy task, but she is making it look as such. She has put her life on hold to be here, so thanks to her and her hubby Chris and son Austin for making the sacrifice of lending her skills to us. Brother Tom and Linda will be heading out Thursday to take care of things on the home front after being here upwards of three weeks making invaluable contributions to the cause as well.   Cousin Becky has signed on until this Sunday, much to Beth's delight. 

So that's about it for now.  Sorry for the delayed update, but you'll have that. 

Saturday, October 17, 2009, 6:24 PM

Sorry for the delay in writing, but I was consumed with work recently.  Another reason is there's no real news to report.  Beth has been about the same, up and down with some moments better than others.  She's been a bit more sharp the past couple of days, which is nice, and Cousin Becky is going through books, pictures, and so forth with her.  She is really enjoying the company of loved ones.  Tom and Linda are still here, as Tom chose to stay on a while longer at Beth's request.  He was scheduled for some volunteer fireman training back home, but will be able to re-schedule for some other time down the road.  Cousin Scott came through Wednesday/Thursday and Beth was very happy to see him too.  That's about it for now.  More later, of course...

Thursday, October 22, 2009, 1:28 PM

..and by "moving edition", I mean literally, not necessarily emotionally.   After many days in Beth's new apartment in her co-housing community, the hard decision has been made to take Beth up to her brother Tom's house in lovely Mathews, VA.  A number of factors converged to make this a necessity, first and foremost the need for her primary caretakers: Dena and Tom, to be near their homes and families.  In addition, her roommate, the most gracious Joanie, obviously doesn't deserve to have an entire family elbowing her out of her own dwelling for weeks on end.  So we have rented an RV to transport Beth, (on her own Temperpedic mattress, I might add), to Virginia this Saturday.   Another factor in this decision is Beth's health, which is relatively stellar.  We consulted with her Hospice caretaker yesterday regarding the decision and she declared that Beth is nowhere near her final time at the moment, barring random heart failure.  She is strong otherwise and still of sound mind for most of the day.  Hospice estimated two to perhaps even eight months from now, although that's obviously merely an educated guess.   This was obviously not an easy decision for Beth or any of us to take her away from her beloved friends and community, but ultimately we all believe it is for the best.  She will be liberated from the bed in her one small room, instead having the run of the extensive first floor of Tom's riverfront home.  She will also be able to extend visiting with more of her relatives, who will also be in much greater comfort.   It is hard for me to have her leaving my city, but I plan on spending extensive time at Tom's for this final time, so things will be OK.  Since I need to work most of the time and can't be with her all of the time I never had a say one way or the other, and that's fine.   I am so sorry for not responding to e-mails lately, but please do not take it personally.  There  are connectivity issues with my computer and windows of opportunity with Beth to get her input that are rather small.  Dena and I are in the process of going through her belongings today and I am heading to her office right now to process that stuff, so i'll get this out and write more  sooner rather than later next time.

Sunday, October 25, 2009, 11:39 AM

Hello all.

Well, the stress is about to subside, as we have made it to the friendly confines of Uncles Tom's country estate.  After a couple days of moving prep and upheaval, Beth was finally placed aboard a 29 foot RV, onto her own mattress in the back, no less.  It was a quite sad affair, as leaving her community was one of the hardest things she's ever done.  After she was seated on the bed in the RV she was able to look out the window and wave at her assembled well-wishers before we pulled away, which was nice.  The drive was as smooth as could be expected, although we encountered some rain towards the end of the trip.  Having this task behind us is a very large relief to all involved, and Beth even allowed that "this might turn out OK" along the way.  She was in a decent mood for most of the trip as well, and emerged no worse for the wear. 

Beth's friend from Ohio Paul, (who adopted her bird Priscilla), was awaiting Beth's arrival at Tom's house, much to her surprise and delight.  He was helpful with the transition on this end and Beth is always happy to see one of her best friends.  She is currently ensconced in a new recliner in the living room here, enjoying her family and two cavorting little family dogs who are going to pro-create as soon as the time is right.  But enough about canine copulation.  Beth and the family want the thank all of those at ELC for their assistance and support during her travails and moving process----it would have been much more difficult without all of your help.  Also, when Tom told you to come up and visit "any time", he wasn't kidding*, as is there is more than enough space for visitors here, and the vibe is always welcoming.  This place is a quiet, enjoyable respite for most everyone. 

Anyway, I will wrap this up for now.  Have a good rest of the weekend! 

Tuesday, October 27, 2009, 11:41 PM

Hello all,  Beth is now in the peaceful end bedroom of Tom and Linda's house, on her own bed, which is nice.  Her first night in her new environs was punctuated by a stunning sunset over  the river---like a huge forest fire.   We met the new Hospice crew, and they seemed as nice and capable and they always do.  They are also expecting a doctor to come by for a visit and alter her pain management system so Tom, Linda, and Dena will be free of rising a couple of times a night to administer mediation.  Her spirits were relatively good, and many of her favorite personal effects are now in view for her in her new place, which is nice.  She also enjoys regular visits from the adorable and sweet household Westie terrier Suzy, who I assume has no idea how lucky she is to be in a place to visit Beth regularly.   I had to leave her yesterday for just under a month so I can make a living here in the ATL.  Since she appears to be relatively healthy this is an option for now, but I will be "on call" from here on out, in addition to spending a good portion of the Holidays with her.  Needless to say this was pretty gut-wrenching, especially since I thought I had come to terms with her death a couple of weeks ago.  Silly of me to think this, in retrospect.  But enough about me, the point is I will not be the point person for any significant updates for the next few weeks.  I assume that Linda can provide this service, as I was lucky enough to pluck the following note from Facebook...

"She was tired today. Both Dena and Gary left yesterday and she was just spent. We started on the Methadone today and I think that is going to go well. We just kept chasing the pain and our average pain level was about a 4 or 5. I think a change was in order. Kaycee in Atlanta had prescribed the methadone but Beth has been hesitant. Tommy met with the Doctor here this morning and he explained that the methadone was good with bone pain and the result would be that we are giving Beth medicine less often. After Tom came back and explained it to Beth she was agreeable so we have started that this afternoon."

So this is where we stand for now.  More updates as they come in.


Wednesday, November 4, 2009, 2:12 PM

Hello all.  Sorry for the lack of updates, but I am no longer with her until this coming Monday, assuming I can shake the flu that has kicked my ass over the past three days.   I just spoke with Beth on the phone and she sounded odd, but strong.  We had a brief conversation in which she was, according to Linda, more lucid and together than she has been in days.  It's sweet to know that she rallied for me.  She's seated out in the living room awaiting a doctor visit now.  Apparently the signs that time is short are starting to show: discoloration, extended sleeping time, no appetite, etc. I am copying two updates that came from Aunt Linda below:

Nov. 1:
"Beth is doing well  and has been resting as much as possible.  She has been out in the lazy boy a couple of times. There has been a good bit of memory loss. At times we say it is not Groundhog Day ..it is Groundhog minute.  We explain to her why we are here. Yesterday she started to get up and wanted to go to her car and go home.  We start the story again.  While this is difficult on us it is much harder for Beth.  Last night we had a talk and she asked me how long she has been like this and I told her that she has been in and out at times but this has been pretty much full time for the last two days.  She also refused to take her medicine for 16 hours.  She said she was fine and hadn't decided to take the medicine or not. We don't have the heart to force her and I told her that eventually she would begin to feel the pain and just to let us know and we would get the medicine. So at about 2:00p.m. yesterday she was ready.  I told her about this in the evening when we had a lucid (I am using this term very loosely) conservation. I told her that when I have a problem on her care I ask myself "what would Beth do" and then I get my answer.  She would not have wanted us to force her to take her medicine.  Not for her sake but for ours. Because it would have hurt us so deeply.

She got cards from Judy Koch, Cousin Babs, Bob Goodman, Tari Ricey, Kitchell and Mardy.  If you would let them know she got their cards I know Beth would appreciate it.
She is still our precious Beth.  This morning I said she looked like the night had gone well.  She said, "of course it did because I am here with you".  I am holding on to that for when she again asks, "why am I here,  where is my car, how did I get here, where are my things.....?

I'm sending love...you send us (and especially Beth)... ...Peace"

And this one, sent this morning, subject line: "Beth the Warrior"

“While we talk a good bit of Beth's struggles I want to honor  her bravery. She is a warrior goddess, bowed but not broken and the spirit of Beth, her kindness and her grace continue to shine like a beacon to those of us blessed to be with her.
After sleeping all day yesterday with just two periods of wakefulness she woke up (she was resting in the big lazy boy). She said she wanted to come sit at the dinner table with us. Tommy got the wheelchair and Beth just sat and enjoyed being at dinner and even ate a bite of food. Afterward Dena was wheeling Beth back to the chair and Beth said she wanted to sit of the sofa and just "hang out". (When Beth is speaking it is just at a whisper,  the scene of this is Dena leaning down close to her Momma's face to hear Beth's response to Dena's question).

Dena was helping Beth choose a shirt to wear and there is a plaid shirt Beth likes. Dena said "This is the shirt Gary doesn't like", Beth replies in a whisper "No, he doesn't like it......in fact he despises it". We laughed and Beth smiled with a gleam in her eyes.

This morning Dena was warming lotion to put on Beth and I was sitting close to Beth as she had her feet on the floor and doesn't have much strength. I kissed her on the knee and said "I love you", she replied, "I love you too Linda Lakin".  I told her that she is so brave and she give me the  'give me a break look'. I said no, really, you just let that sink into that heart of yours because its true. Then comes from Beth who I am hugging by now, "thank you"

As I said, I intend to be up there on Monday, and I'll try to fill you in sometime soon after.  


Monday, November 9, 2009, 12:14 PM

Hello all. 

I am lying next to our girl as I type, having finally arrived last night.  She has made significant progress towards the release of her earthly vessel over the past few days, as she is now sleeping almost constantly.  Her breaths are shallow, and a number of seconds pass before the next one. She is very stiff, and often her eyes are open, although it appears she's not really looking at anything.  I'm quite curious as to what she is "seeing", as it may have something to do with a light at the end a tunnel or whatever is at death's door.  Remarkably, she can still indicate when she needs to go to the bathroom and is still using the pottie.  That's the only way to tell she's aware of her surroundings at all, however, as she doesn't make expressions or seem to realize I'm here.  I feel blessed to have been able to share hours of quality time with her before her current state emerged, that's for sure.

It's also a wonderful thing that Beth has been taken care of with as much love, attentiveness, and competence as anyone ever in her final weeks.  Dena, Tom, and Linda have been stalwarts at her side constantly over the past month or so, and for this I will be eternally grateful.  Hospice has been great too, of course, but with this crew on the job the were almost superfluous.  And of course her spiritual support back in Atlanta was tremendous too.  If there are any guilty feelings from her caring gang back there for not making it here for a visit, not to worry---lucidty was not consistent following her move anyway.  I'm sure she would've appreciated the love and gesture, but love was certainly not something she has been lacking the past couple of months---the outpouring was awesome.

 I must say that all of the heart-felt messages have made me quite proud of her.  It's one thing to love my Mom as much as could be, but seeing seemingly endless messages of love and sympathy was kind of like taking an inventory of the amount of love she has in the world.  She really is incredible, and I probably took this for granted more than I realized.  Thanks to all of you for getting me to snap out of it!  

That's about it for now.  Tell someone you love them today!

Saturday, November 14, 2009, 9:39 AM

Well, our girl has left her earthly surroundings for flights of fancy the rest of us can only dream about.  The official time was 9:04, but as far as the coroner knows it will be a bit later than that, as Dena is administering a final bath as Beth requested, and then clothing her in a previously selected outfit for the rest of the process.  She showed remarkable strength in her final days, and to say we'll miss her dearly is an understatement for the ages.  She will be cremated as she wished, and her remains will join us in Atlanta for a memorial service on a date to be determined.  I will keep you posted on those details, needless to say.  Thanks all for your support through all of this and I look forward to seeing many of you in person, where we can celebrate her extraordinary life, energy, and being. 

Monday, December 14, 2009, 8:31 PM

Hello all, This will probably be the final update, although I may end up with text of some of the poems that were read at Beth's memorial service to pass along.  First off all, the weather gods dialed up a most appropriate day for an (ex) Ohio girl: a cold drizzle and constantly gray skies.  These conditions probably matched most attendees moods as they arrived as well, but I for one can say gloomy is the last emotion I felt as I exited the community center of East Lake Commons in the late afternoon... 

This Memorial was downright fantastic.  It was tear-jerking, yet uplifting.  Sad, but remarkably inspiring.  It was more than a tribute to Beth---it was a celebration of her uniqueness, intelligence, and love through the eyes and hearts of so many who loved her.  More importantly, for me anyway, was the lack of religious dogma or any sort of message that veered away from the memory of Beth.  There was an ordained Minister and ELC resident named Kate attending, but she played a very low-key role, which is not to say her role was not inspired and very much appreciated. 

The smallish, (for this type of event, anyway), space was standing room only, as sixteen family members joined her local friends and ELC people to honor certainly one of the most unique individuals any of us have known.   The tribute began with Beth's friend from the Healing world Nancy saying a few words, or maybe it was the Minister Kate kicking things off---I don't quite recall. The fact is the initial details of the "ceremony" portion of the afternoon are fuzzy for me because I was "on deck", i.e. about to hit the stage with no notes, so I spent some of the time thinking about what I would say.  The point is the occasion was not a slave to form, it was dedicated to feel---just as Beth would've wanted. ( I should also take this time to thank my sister Dena, and Beth's friends Nancy, Amy, Karen, and Tovah for putting this all together.  Forgive me if I've left anyone out.)

The majority of the occasion was spent as it should be: with remembrances of our beloved passed.  This process was started in earnest by Dena, who had a nice laundry list of details about Beth, such as her swimming ability, her being President of the school borad, and other tidbits about which some people wouldn't be aware.  She did a stellar job and more importantly, kept it together, which is more than I had any chance of doing, which is why my speech was kept brief.  When it was time for she and I to speak, Kate looked right at me to stand up, as she didn't know Dena and I had decided for her to go first.  So I stand up with Dena, who I then asked if I should stand with her.  She relied: "well, it's kind of long."  I then addressed the crowd, saying something like: "Well she said her thing is kind of long, so I'll be back in a few minutes.", and then a sat back down.  This comment alone drew laughs, so I knew I was in the comedian's catbird seat for my impending story/joke.  For the moment I forgot I had a dead Mom. 

Anyway, when it was time for me to speak I had what I believe to be the perfect line: "I must say as a former comedian I relish this audience, because it's one of the few out there more sympathetic than Oprah's."  Oh, the house came down!  Well perhaps not, but I think attendees would agree the comment was well-played.  So I mention that I'm keeping things short in order to keep it together, and said something about the course of these updates pretty much covering what my Mom meant to me.  I then described the "death bed" episode between Beth and I during her second hospital stay. 

The fact is there wasn't any secret exchanging of things we really had to say to each other at that point, because we were open books to each other.  (As those who know me can attest, I'm not the type to candy coat things or hold back details on my life, and this naturally carried over to my relationship with Beth.)  Anyway, I asked her if she had a death bed wish to share, and she did so.  Obviously this was a heavy moment, and we were duly weeping about it and carrying on.  I then suggested that what she might have said in this spot was: "Well, I've tried every goddamned thing I could think of to get you to get off your ass and make something of yourself, so now I'm just going to try dying."   We laughed and laughed.  And laughed some more.  I then thanked the attendees, etc. and got the hell off the stage.  I was happy to have this over with so I could fully pay attention to the rest of the speakers, but there were a couple of things in particular I wish I had said...

First of all, besides the obvious, I am probably most thankful to Beth for the love of words that she passed on to me.  She had a vast vocabulary, and I can recall castigating her about it one time in my adolescent idiocy.  "Why do you have to use a word with three syllables when one is good enough?"  She probably reacted with grace or a duly snide remark, but I'll never forget how stupid it was for me to bitch about such a thing.  The other thing I'll never forget was the look of love she had for me whenever whe saw me after some time had passed between sharing a space.  More specifically, when I was a child she would come into my room every morning when it was time for me to arise and lift the shade on the window.  She would then turn to look at me and cast the most wonderful, loving glow in the world.  I find the lines of The Beatles' "Golden Slumbers" to describe this so beautifully, and it gets me every time: "Golden slumbers fill your eyes.  Smiles awake you when you rise."  Oh, the things I took for granted and can never get back!

The other thing more than a few people were surprised to learn was Beth had an evil twin, who emerged whenever she was confronted with bureaucratic authority, such as a cop who had just pulled her over.   She was not one to play nice in an effort to get out of the ticket.  To the contrary, her eyes would narrow and her answers became very curt and short.  This trait also extrended to people at the DMV counter, or anywhere else where stupid rules were in place to make her life harder.  I don't mean this to sound like she shot the messenger---she was still cordial, (except to cops), but authority drove her absolutely batty.  I'm sure her elected representatives who received many letters from her know what I mean.  Anyway, enough about me and my recollections---back to the tribute. 

Following me was a string of those with personal anecdotes---a lot of family members and good friends.  Three of my cousins read wonderful poems that were most fitting, and the aforementioned Karen read a passage from a Tibetian volume after her adorable eight year old told a beautiful story about learning of Beth's passing.  Prior to Karen's reading, she made note of how Beth's books, books, and more books that were gobbled up by the community always included personally highlighted, underlined, and circled text, as was her practice, along with arrows  and margin notes for good measure.  The two personal outpourings that stuck with me the most were from my Uncle Tom's wife Linda and a great old friend of Beth's named Laurie McDade. 

Linda's words were an anology about migrating birds, and how their formations allow one in the fore, while the others can conserve energy, or "draft" in the stream.  She likened it specifically to the difficult task of caring for Beth in the final weeks, and the superb "tag team", (my term),  that developed for both physical and emotional support.   She also pointed out that Beth was a lead bird who made everyone's trip a little easier, and she couldn't have been more right. 

Laurie, on the other hand, wasn't able to spend as much time with Beth at the end as she wanted.   Much to her consternation she was kept at arm's length from Beth due to a string of heart felt, lengthy e-mails that frankly has those of us playing protectors of Beth's waning energy more than a little concerned.  I'm sure those of us closest to the dearly departed would agree that having now met her, keeping her away was a mistake.  Sure she was a bit over-the-top with the e-mails and insistence for a visit, but she is in fact a fully sane, highly intelligent and lovable person.  (Beth's friend---big surprise!)  Anyway, she gave a wonderful speech alluding to the above, and also how Beth dropped everything to come hundreds of miles, unannounced, to help Laurie in a crisis.    She simply wanted to return the favor, but as luck would have it, Beth was chock full of help in this case. 

Anyway, long story short, Laurie was able to let out all that she wanted to say in this forum, and did so with great satisfaction, humor, and grace.  She also make it a point to appreciate Beth's unique phrases, such as "Cursed Spite!", and the best sympathetic phrase ever uttered when she heard of someones pain: "Oh, honey."  If you're lucky enough to be familiar with that one, you know that was a significant tear-jerker, and you can hear it right now.  I'm happy to report that Laurie and her cool hubby David were brought into the family gathering that went into the evening up at their hotel, so we  were all able to allay our guilt for how we treated this wonderful person in the midst of being over-protective of Beth. 

The tribute ended in a most unconventional, (obviously appropriate), fashion, as the girls in the family emerged through the gathering to the front in a slow, shuffle kind of dance/float  to some beautiful music.  People joined in and this is how it ended, along with tears and big bear hugs all around.  It was the perfect ending to what I can only describe as a celebration of grief, if that makes any sense.  I've been proud of my tremendous family and of Beth specifically many times, but never in any way like this.  We were all deeply saddened, but I'm sure also fully aware of how lucky we still are to have each other and to have been trained to take on life as disciples of one of the greatest people to ever walk the earth.  So ultimately it was a celebration and a thank you.  Yes, in honor of our leading left-of-center person's passing, we had a damn celebration of her death.  I'm sure somewhere she was beaming---she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.  "Truly."





PS: Then we caught a little wine buzz and enojyed finger foods and conversation.  So nice meeting some of you---thanks for saying hi and the kind words.