This post is a little off topic, but it is still about me and my life, just not necessarily as a bodyworker, but as a friend. Forgive the errors, I am tired.
A very dear friend of mine died very suddenly yesterday. It is slowly sinking in. For our purposes we will call her Margo. She was the kind of friend that you could share a lot of secrets with, a lot dreams with, and a lot really fascinating times with. She had a disease since her youth that would eventually kill her. Cystic Fibrosis. She never once let that get her down and her plans for the future included a luxurious retirement.
I met Margo many years ago through a mutual friend, and at first that was how she was referred to, you know, her friend, Margo.
Anyway, as time passed we (my partner and I) got to know Margo better. I even was a model for an advertising campaign that she worked for. My partner and I moved away to a larger city and much to our surprise, Margo called us to meet her since she was going to be in town for a conference. A couple of months later she called again asking if she could crash with us as she had a job interview in our town. A few months later, she moved to the other side of our town and very shortly we started an amazing ritual, Sunday Brunch with all you can drink Mimosas.
Sometimes it was just the three of us, sometimes up to nine but we tried to be sure never more than two weeks past without a Brunch. Over the years we have seen each other at our best and at our worst. We have gotten jobs, lost jobs, helped each other move, and even explored the underbelly of sexual deviation. That’s right, we even attended BDSM classes together (you have to look to find them, but find them we did). We were there when her beloved dog died and also when she picked out her new puppy and we watched it grow to a beautiful dog. We went to plays together, art shows, wine and cheese tastings, Renn Fairs, and even this dreadful herb festival that she insisted we attend each year.
Through this all we knew that Margo was ill. She would suddenly have a long coughing fit and we would pause the conversation until she was done and then continue on as if little or nothing had happened. I read up on Cystic Fibrosis and had a good idea of what was eventually coming. I took her to the hospital occasionally for office visits or procedures and hold her hand when ever needed. Eventually things starting getting worse, it was obvious from her weight loss. There was talk about a lung transplant and I knew that was a bad sign. From my readings, I knew a transplant is a last ditch effort since it is such a delicate procedure.
It was getting more difficult for her to get out and often her meds would mean that she could not drink. So we started a new ritual with out much fanfare, Scrabble night. The funny thing about Scrabble night was that I was the only one who really enjoyed Scrabble, the rest just realized that it was nothing more than an excuse to get together every week or two to socialize instead of brunch.
Eventually the talk of new lungs became a regular bit of conversation and money was raised to put her on the list ($200,000 in cash just to get her on the list and that was with good insurance). Doctors informed Margo that if she did not get new lungs she had about 6 months to live. We now found ourselves in waiting game. Margo was still making plans for her future and all of the things she would be able to do with her new lungs. She was on oxygen all the time now and she hated that. What 40 year old, fiercely independent woman wouldn’t? At first she didn’t want to leave her house at all but eventually we convinced her that the purpose of the oxygen was to set her free. Time continued to pass and we would wait for “the call” for new lungs. We had one false call that was a great dry run and got us all very excited. Life continued, bills collected, her work dropped off, Scrabble games picked up and every major holiday weekend we held our breaths since those were statistically the best weekends for transplants.
The 6 months came and went and still we waited. It was almost a year and a half and Margo was still waiting. Things were starting to look a little bleak. Her health was deteriorating, and we all knew that something had to happen soon. Worst of all, Margo was getting tired. Her phone calls were a little sadder each time and she would talk about how she was tired all the time, she was tired of waiting, and she was tired of being sick.
Yesterday morning she and I exchanged some mundane silly emails. She went grocery shopping and talked to another friend about how she had gotten a good night sleep the night before, but could still use a nap. About 30 minutes later, an EMT called that friend and said that they were at Margo’s house and about to take her to the hospital, she had coughed up a lot blood, and that the friend should meet them there. The friend called me to let me know what was happening and we agreed that I would wait until she had more information before I leave. Margo never made it to the hospital.
We received the call and volunteered to go and take care of the dog and the house. We were warned that there may be a mess. It was true. We entered the house (Margo had long ago given us a key) and immediately went to let the dog out of her pen to walk her. As my partner was doing that, I started noticing the blood. It was spattered on the kitchen floor and the floor in her back room. There was a towel and a rug bunched up in front of the bathroom door that had a lot of blood on it. I opened the bathroom door and saw that the sink was half full of blood and that it was spattered on the walls and the floor as well. Apparently her lungs had ruptured and she had coughed up several pints of blood. I closed the bathroom door and took a deep breath.
I went to find the cleaning supplies and started on the floors. I for a moment considered putting the towel and rug in the washing machine and realized what for, throw them away. My partner returned and put the dog in a cage in another room and joined me in the cleaning. I let him take over the floors while I headed for the bathroom. The blood in the sink was a combination of congealed and liquid blood. The sink itself seemed clogged. I did the only thing I could think of and take paper towel and start scooping the mess out of the sink and into the toilet. I got to the bottom and discovered the stopper was in the sink. I removed the rest of the solids and the stopper and started running the water. From this point I could now just start cleaning the sink. I had made a mild bleach solution and scrubbed everything, the sink, the floor, the walls trying to make sure that I got every crevasse. Once that was done, everything was gone over again with regular bathroom cleaners. There was another small rug in the back room and one in the kitchen that also had a few spots, these I did throw in the washer, though later I was left wondering who I had washed them for.
Having cleaned up the blood we let the dog out so she would not be left locked up for so long. We put away Margo’s groceries. It seemed like the right thing to do. We then cleaned the stick-up Easter Eggs that had been on her front window for almost 5 months, no one else needed to see those.
We heard from the family and found that they were having the body transported to their home state and would not be coming to Margo’s House for at least a week and would pick up the dog at that time, we were to decide what would be best for the dog until then. We were making phone calls on where to leave the dog since my partner had more sense than I did at this point (I wanted to bring the dog home with us, it would not have been a good solution). Our mutual friend who had been at the hospital showed up and confirmed what we thought about where to keep the dog (another friend with dogs and children so the dog would get a lot of attention). We then all consoled each other and went back to work.
Another aspect of being good friends in a case like this is removing those things from the house that Margo’s parents did not need to see. You know, those things like materials we had picked up at the BDSM classes and various toys and books. Her journals where she talks about the love of her life went with us as well, though those will be given to her sister.
We were left alone again waiting for the friend who was coming to pick up the dog. As we were gathering the dog’s things, I noticed the Aero Bed that we had loaned to Margo for the extra guests expected if she had gotten the transplant, we would need to take that with us as well. I noticed for the first time that there was something that we had given Margo in every room, some from our travels and other gifts bought for her birthdays or Christmases. I wondered what would happen to them. I thought about taking them, but that seemed so wrong at the time. We did take the stuff that we had brought to Margo’s for our Scrabble nights including the board and the liquor.
The person taking care of the dog showed up and we had to load up the dog’s pen and then we had to say good-bye to the dog. It was then that it suddenly was all very real. It wasn’t the cleaning, or the packing, or the sorting through various sundries, it was saying good-bye to a silly little dog that finally made me realize that my friend is dead.
We went through the house one last time to be sure that everything that should be off was off and anything that was supposed to be closed was closed and that the place was locked up tight.
Today was spent with phone calls and emails and playing tag to be sure that everyone has the most current information. I called a friend that Margo introduced us to who now lives in Ireland, I called my mother who had always loved Margo, I called Margo’s mother to let her know that the dog is being well taken care of. I called Margo’s best friend from that town where we met and listened to her cry for a while. I called the love of Margo’s life, a married man that she had an affair with on and off for a few years and whom she never got over. I let him know that I knew about their relationship so he could cry for a few moments and apologize for not doing better by her. I got a few calls as well checking to make sure that we were ok. I did have a client today, which was difficult, but I managed to give him what he was after.
I called the mutual friend who had introduced to us to Margo all those years ago and gave her the bad news and thanked her for introducing us.
- Jack
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