My Friend Joe--Part two
Nov. 14th, 2003 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zyzylyJoe spent only two days in the hospital. They did the biopsy and confirmed what the CT had shown. There wasn’t much in the way of treatment options. At best, they could extend his life for a few months. He decided against treatment and opted for hospice care instead. We took him home.
It was frustrating for Joe—he had great difficulty talking, and couldn’t take care of himself very well. Mary began to care for him and meet his needs. He deteriorated pretty quickly for a while. His left eye began to droop—the tumor pressing on one of his cranial nerves. We weren’t sure he would even survive to the wedding.
About a month before I was to get married, he began to perk up a little. I began to take him around with me as I made arrangements. One day we went and got fitted for our tuxedos. I did most of the talking, but he had a good time.
October 2nd was our wedding day. Mary dressed Joe in his tuxedo, and they arrived at the church about a half hour before the wedding started. He looked great. You could hardly tell he was sick. I wasn’t sure he would be able to stand with me, but he wanted to. I gave the other groomsmen instructions to stand around him, so that if he had a problem, they could guide him to his chair.
As the wedding began, Joe and I stood side by side as Arlina walked down the aisle toward us. He began to tilt a little. I thought he was falling and put my hand on his shoulder. He leaned into me and whispered, “last chance”, and smiled at me. They were the last words I would hear him speak. He didn’t stay long at the reception. I could see how tired and weak he was. We took pictures, and Mary took him home.
The next day, Arlina and I left for our honeymoon. We didn’t return until the end of October. By that time, Joe was bedridden and failing rapidly. It was shocking to see how quickly he had deteriorated while we were gone. He had lost a lot of weight and his cheeks were hollow. He was in a lot of pain, and required multiple medications to control it. Mary continued to care for him with the help of the hospice nurses. It scared me. I didn’t know what to say or do.
I didn’t go over very much over the next few weeks. I would talk to Mary on the phone, but I couldn’t stand to see him like that. I wish now that I had had the courage to overcome my fears and spend every moment I could with him. Perhaps it is that lesson, one of the last he taught me, that helps me now with Arlina.
On November 13, Mary called me and asked me to come over. He was near death, and she wanted to make sure I had the chance to say goodbye. He was so thin—almost skeletal. His breathing was labored, and he could barely move. I sat by his bed for a while, and Mary left us. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure if he could hear me.
I began to talk about how we met, our days in the recovery house, all the people who had come and gone. I told him how much he meant to me, how he had helped me in the worst time of my life; how he had given me the courage to make a new life for myself. I told him what a good friend he had been to me—the best I ever had. I told him that I loved him, and that I would never forget him.
His eyes opened, and there was the faintest smile on his lips. His hand came slowly up off the bed to rest in mine for a minute. Then he raised it to my face and gently stroked my cheek. It is a moment I will never forget. I sat with him for a while longer, holding his hand as he drifted off. He died the next morning.
I have had many friends since then. I am surrounded their love and support as I walk this journey with Arlina, but it has never been the same as my friendship with Joe. I suspect that someone like Joe only comes around once in a lifetime. He believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself, and walked with me when all I could do was stumble along.
I wonder sometimes if he was an angel. He came along at the moment of my greatest need, and passed away when he knew I was safe in Arlina’s love. I don’t know. I sometimes wish he were still here, to help me walk this journey with Arlina. Maybe he is.
He died ten years ago today.
I miss him.
He was my friend.
It was frustrating for Joe—he had great difficulty talking, and couldn’t take care of himself very well. Mary began to care for him and meet his needs. He deteriorated pretty quickly for a while. His left eye began to droop—the tumor pressing on one of his cranial nerves. We weren’t sure he would even survive to the wedding.
About a month before I was to get married, he began to perk up a little. I began to take him around with me as I made arrangements. One day we went and got fitted for our tuxedos. I did most of the talking, but he had a good time.
October 2nd was our wedding day. Mary dressed Joe in his tuxedo, and they arrived at the church about a half hour before the wedding started. He looked great. You could hardly tell he was sick. I wasn’t sure he would be able to stand with me, but he wanted to. I gave the other groomsmen instructions to stand around him, so that if he had a problem, they could guide him to his chair.
As the wedding began, Joe and I stood side by side as Arlina walked down the aisle toward us. He began to tilt a little. I thought he was falling and put my hand on his shoulder. He leaned into me and whispered, “last chance”, and smiled at me. They were the last words I would hear him speak. He didn’t stay long at the reception. I could see how tired and weak he was. We took pictures, and Mary took him home.
The next day, Arlina and I left for our honeymoon. We didn’t return until the end of October. By that time, Joe was bedridden and failing rapidly. It was shocking to see how quickly he had deteriorated while we were gone. He had lost a lot of weight and his cheeks were hollow. He was in a lot of pain, and required multiple medications to control it. Mary continued to care for him with the help of the hospice nurses. It scared me. I didn’t know what to say or do.
I didn’t go over very much over the next few weeks. I would talk to Mary on the phone, but I couldn’t stand to see him like that. I wish now that I had had the courage to overcome my fears and spend every moment I could with him. Perhaps it is that lesson, one of the last he taught me, that helps me now with Arlina.
On November 13, Mary called me and asked me to come over. He was near death, and she wanted to make sure I had the chance to say goodbye. He was so thin—almost skeletal. His breathing was labored, and he could barely move. I sat by his bed for a while, and Mary left us. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure if he could hear me.
I began to talk about how we met, our days in the recovery house, all the people who had come and gone. I told him how much he meant to me, how he had helped me in the worst time of my life; how he had given me the courage to make a new life for myself. I told him what a good friend he had been to me—the best I ever had. I told him that I loved him, and that I would never forget him.
His eyes opened, and there was the faintest smile on his lips. His hand came slowly up off the bed to rest in mine for a minute. Then he raised it to my face and gently stroked my cheek. It is a moment I will never forget. I sat with him for a while longer, holding his hand as he drifted off. He died the next morning.
I have had many friends since then. I am surrounded their love and support as I walk this journey with Arlina, but it has never been the same as my friendship with Joe. I suspect that someone like Joe only comes around once in a lifetime. He believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself, and walked with me when all I could do was stumble along.
I wonder sometimes if he was an angel. He came along at the moment of my greatest need, and passed away when he knew I was safe in Arlina’s love. I don’t know. I sometimes wish he were still here, to help me walk this journey with Arlina. Maybe he is.
He died ten years ago today.
I miss him.
He was my friend.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 04:29 pm (UTC)Some angels just happen to be human.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 04:32 pm (UTC)I understand, though, the fear and guilt of not going to see someone you know is sick in a way that is devastating, who is so important to you. I did it too and am so glad now that I at least managed to be there for my friend for the last weeks.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 04:54 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for sharing Joe with us.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 05:29 pm (UTC)i do believe there are angels on this earth. so special. :-)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 06:09 pm (UTC)was this recovery house in sacramento?
no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 09:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 10:47 pm (UTC)Friends like Joe remain with you always ... :)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-17 01:07 pm (UTC)-------trout