Even if I Am
Page 19
You tackled me into bed, howling with laughter.
From: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: mother
To: stepfather
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, March 21, 1:57 p.m.
Subject: update
hello again,
chemo went well.
oncologist wants me to have a scan in ten days.
curious to see how those results come back.
hoping for the best.
called USC to check their availability for appointments.
dr. heinz lenz sees patients on mondays and thursdays,
and is available from april 3rd and later.
hope all is well
love
a.
From: stepfather
To: mother
To: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, March 21, 1:57 p.m.
Subject: Re: update
Hi, Anth and Chas. Glad things are going well. Next, find the house! It will be so calming and simplifying to have your own place, spare Chas her exhausted, cross-LA commutes, give Gladys company more of the time, and generally bring peace in the kingdom. Might even help you eat better, Anthony.
Regarding the appointments, I have a definite preference for Monday, April 10, for the Lenz appointment. April 3 is the BIG meeting of our Rector Search Committee, to hear and evaluate site visits to the parishes of our final four rector candidates, and decide who to invite to Washington. April 7, Thursday, is my final session of the year with my medical students. I could come out Sunday, April 9, be there for the UCLA appointment Monday, and be there for a lawyer Monday or Tuesday, and then return. We have enough lawyers on the list I sent you that somebody should be available April 10 or 11. The ones in your mother’s handwriting at the bottom of the page were cited more than once, and would be the ones I would call first. If you have misplaced the list, let me know and I will send it again.
After Easter, I will have midweek visits with final rector candidates to Washington for three consecutive weeks, two days each: meet whole Search Committee, meet Vestry, meet the Bishop, spouse coming also. Hope the scheduling works for you.
Spring is here in Washington, even though it has been chilly the last few days. The forsythia are strongly blooming, daffodils and crocuses are up, the redbud and plum trees and magnolias are in full bloom. Some cherries in sunny places are beginning to come out. And when you drive past wooded areas, the flash of young, green leaves can be seen. It makes the blood pump a little faster. Soon we will be getting out our bikes and going for rides on the weekend.
Be well. Here’s a warm cyber-hug. I hope we can make the schedule work and that I’ll be seeing you soon.
Much love,
Dad
Looking for an affordable rental in Venice, California was as painful as a bleeding ulcer. No, make that bubbly, bleeding, heart-wrenching ulcers. It’s not my fault you picked one of the most expensive areas in Los Angeles. I still don’t understand what was so wrong with living in Hollywood, closer to work — but, it was your choice. You got to decide. I know, I know “the westside is the best side,” but it’s so expensive. How landlords can charge twenty-six hundred dollars for a one bedroom is beyond me. People even rent airstreams parked in their backyards, converted garages with no bathrooms and bachelors without kitchens.
It was us against dozens of other couples, families, singles — all of California — looking for a cheap, affordable rental in Venice. We became pathetic. We sent pictures of us as a perfect couple with the application. Practically begged to the landlord during each walk through.
One of our many self-photographed date nights.
We found one. It was ideal, charming, and four blocks from the beach. We imagined our days in the house, cooking dinners in the kitchen, movie nights on the couch under the picture window. Our application, denied. We found another one, equally charming. Imagined our days. Denied. Ulcer. Rented to a couple without a pet. Damn you, Gladys. She was getting an ulcer, too. We tried so hard to stay optimistic.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Optimism never suited me, though.
Then we found it. Glencoe. It had stencils of fairies on the kitchen cabinets and stenciled ivy over each doorway. When we arrived I went straight to the gardened backyard, stood under the Chinese Elm; Gladys came with and pooped on the grass. Her and I both turned to you. “I think we’re home.”
This was our home.
And this was our garden.
— Forwarded Message to chasityrae@gmail.com
From: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: mother
To: stepfather
Sent: Tuesday, March 28, 11:27 a.m.
Subject: layer status
hey guys,
yesterday i called the lawyers at the bottom of the list with some small success. mostly they told me my case wasn’t the type they normally handled, but i have yet to speak with some of the names, and i did get some clues that this type of case may be an ERISA claim case, in which specific lawyers would be required who handle those types of cases. should get a few more calls back today and will use that information to help figure out where we stand.
therefore, we’re still in a holding pattern on deciding when to book the flight and make the appointment at USC. i will write or call later today when i have some more info on that front.
in other news it seems that chas and i may get the house we’ve been pining over. at first it seemed as if gladys might be the deal-breaker, they had just redone their hardwood floors and didn’t want a dog living in the house. after explaining gladys’s demeanor, and taking full responsibility for her, and pushing and pushing, they seem to have come around. should get the final word today. if so, we’ll be able to move in may 1st, just in time for our visitors.
talk soon.
— Forwarded Message to chasityrae@gmail.com
From: mother
To: anthonyglass@gmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, March 28, 2:45 p.m.
Subject: Re: layer status
When you talk to the lawyers, are you asking for coverage of your surgery? Or are you stating your case regarding failure to diagnose?
Holding my breath about the house!
From: stepfather
To: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Wednesday, March 29, 6:50 a.m.
Subject: Re: lawyer status
Now that I have had a night’s sleep, here’s further response to your last e-mail. There are two types of actions that may be getting confused. One is to sue the health plan for costs they should properly pay and have denied. That requires that all regular appeals have been exhausted, and is for the amount of the denied benefits, plus costs. Lawyers make a fee but not a bundle on these, and usually do not take the case on contingency.
The other is to claim malpractice for failure to diagnose. Both the primary physician and the health plan can be named. The amount can be huge (five million). Lawyers typically take these on contingency. They pay all the costs, but if the suit wins, they get a third of the award (a bundle). They don’t win them all, but the ones they win make them rich. Records can be obtained by subpoena, and expert witnesses will be required to testify about failure to achieve the standard of medical care. If the defendants are scared, they may settle without a trial. If the lawyer doesn’t think the case is strong, he/she generally won’t take it. If there is a trial, it is usually with a jury, which is often sympathetic if the patient can show significant injury. A particular doctor needs to be named as having been guilty of the malpractice.
Sorry I didn’t lay all this out before. It is so familiar to physicians that it is like explaining how to walk. Good luck. Let me know if you have further questions.
You continue in our thoughts and prayers every day. Right now I am particularly hoping about the house.
Love,
Dad
From: antho
nyglass@gmail.com
To: mother
To: stepfather
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, March 29, 3:06 p.m.
Subject: Re: lawyer status
okay, hold on.
first, i am not comfortable filing a million-dollar malpractice
lawsuit for a variety of reasons. do we have a case? maybe.
is it where we should be putting our efforts right now? no.
i’ve got enough on my plate
without adding something that big to it.
in addition to having a distaste for law,
being ignorant of its relation to medicine,
it seems like one huge ball of stress and anxiety
that i would like to avoid.
my priority is getting the money back
that we spent on the surgery
and hospital visit.
this is where i need help.
if there is a place to put your energy,
help me by picking up this torch,
and finding the type of lawyer
who will take that type of case.
i love you both.
talk soon.
…
The air was damp and gray and dreary, June gloom in April. It’s tough to stay cheerful in gloomy weather. The Cruiser didn’t want to start, too cold out, but the engine finally turned. We didn’t say much as a song played on the radio and we merged onto the freeway. Sometimes moments of silence get heavy, for no reason at all. Especially under the circumstances, and on our way to hear the latest test results.
I cast a look over at you, at your thousand-yard stare over the steering wheel. “Hey, babe, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking it might be time to ask for help?”
“Yeah?”
“Putting a big legal battle on top of everything else feels like too much for me.”
“It’s a lot…”
“I feel like my doctors should shoulder some blame, but I don’t feel like launching a million-dollar suit against them.” You continued thinking out loud. “Is this where I should be putting my energy right now? I want Blue Cross to help pay the money we’ve spent out of pocket for the surgery, but adding ‘talk to lawyers’ to my to-do list sucks. Adding it when I don’t even understand what I’m talking about sucks even more and feels like a waste of effort.”
Little voices in my head were telling me this was a task for your parents. You knew it, too. They should be calling the lawyers — they were the ones wanting to file the suit, after all. I didn’t understand why you had to call them, as if you weren’t already fighting for your life.
…
Wednesday, April 5
news
listen.
it was a cold and rainy tuesday morning when chas and i
set out across town to see my oncologist, to get the news
from my latest CT scan, and see how this bullshit cancer
was responding to the latest chemo i had started.
the weather wasn’t helping our nerves.
does good news come on dreary days like this?
apparently not.
it wasn’t good news, and yet it wasn’t terrible news.
the cancer is still spreading in my lungs. a little.
i will stop taking the avastin, go to USC immediately,
and discuss some new options
with their oncology department.
it wasn’t altogether a surprise. the lymph nodes in my neck
are still swollen, and have become my own informal way of
determining if the treatments i am taking are working or not.
very much looking forward to the day when these fuckers
go away.
so here we go again.
setback. regroup. attack.
break down. pick up. breathe.
it’s the morning after now, and thankfully, the sun is out.
my list of things to do is long.
it’s time to get started.
posted by Anthony Glass at 7:24 a.m.
chapter thirty-nine
vein of stars
From: stepfather
To: mother
To: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Friday, April 7, 2:16 p.m.
Subject: Next Week
Your mother and I will be coming for your oncology visit Thursday at 2:00 p.m. and to share a little time with you. We arrive at LAX on Southwest Airlines, at noon on Thursday, and depart at 12:25 p.m. on Saturday. We are eager to see you. Let us know if these arrangements will work.
Much love to you both.
Dad
I couldn’t keep up with the changes and progressions and now more visits and appointments. It was all happening so fast. I was counting sleepless nights, trying not to think of dead things and lawyers and a spreading disease. I often thought of meatloaf and mayo. I know, weird. But my Mom makes the best meatloaf, and who doesn’t love mayo?
Babe, we spent that night fighting and now I can’t even remember what we fought about. I’m sure it had something to do with cancer and the never ending what-if’s. The fight wasn’t you and it wasn’t me. But, I remember both of us tossing and turning, angry in bed. I remember falling asleep with you still talking to me, saying you weren’t afraid to die. I didn’t want to hear it, I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep through the night, all through my life, though I couldn’t fall into it. I had dead things on my mind. Like fallen leaves and wilted flowers and patches of dead grass and the sound of a dead phone and dead ends and dead air and deadlines and road kill. The minute I thought I was past it, it started again. Meat loaf and mayo. Meatloaf and mayo. I wanted to wake you, I wanted to hear you laugh. I don’t think I ever loved you more than when you laughed.
From: anthonyglass@gmail.com
To: chasityrae@gmail.com
Sent: Monday, April 10, 11:52 a.m.
Subject: yuck
where do i start?
stayed up late because i wasn’t tired,
took my supplements somewhere therein,
and proceeded to sleep like crap.
obviously supplements before bed is a big no-no.
all those pills in my stomach, it’s no wonder
my body is freaking out trying to digest it all.
no shit, right?
slept reasonably well from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m.
that was nice. jay just took off, leaving his
dishes in the sink, of course, and me shaking my head.
so curious to see how he pollutes his new place.
perhaps he will keep it all immaculate. right.
sending a song i listened to last night.
most of the songs on this album are pretty weird,
but this one stood out as special. enjoy.
getting ready to eat some food, shower and cut my hair.
when i walked out of my bedroom this morning,
i looked to the french doors like i always do
to exchange “good morning” looks with gladys
and was surprised that she wasn’t here.
me without my two ladies.
hope you have an amazing morning.
i’m a little jealous of the fact you get to be at work.
i miss being there. my office. editing.
fuck.
need to get that going again…
in good time… first things first…
miss you.
"Vein of Stars"
The Flaming Lips
From: chasityrae@gmail.com
To: anthonyglass@gmail.com
Sent: Monday, April 10, 12:37 p.m.
Subject: Re: yuck
being at work is weird yet comfortable.
the coffee is as thick as I remember,
the toilet paper is as(s) scratchy,
the people have familiar faces…
it’s like going back to your hometown.
I am already knee-
deep in
“hellos” and updates.
I wish I was there.
or you were here.
did we get the house???
sorry you didn’t sleep well.
it took me a while to fall asleep, too.
maybe it’s time we look into a sleep aid for you?
ok, I’d best get to it. people keep stopping by.
I’ll talk to you later
I miss you more…
…
“I can’t wait to get into the house, get settled, get things the way we want and live. It’s going to be beautiful. You should see the backyard!” Your stepfather was in the passenger seat, and you were gushing nonstop about our new home, smiling at me and your mother in the rearview mirror.
Jose Gonzales performed live on KCRW. His lyrics lingered in the pit of my stomach as his guitar tugged at my heartstring. The music intertwined itself in our complaints of the doctor’s demeanor during the first opinion earlier that day.
“He didn’t even look over your records before our visit, and then gave us such dismal news…” We all agreed the doctor had absolutely no bedside manners and was a complete ass. He was an easy person to hate.
On our way to a second opinion, we were somewhat giddy. I think it was the idea of moving in together and imagining our new home. We sneaked in grins and rearview-mirror kisses. Jose was now singing “Crosses.” Don’t you know that I’ll be around to guide you. Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you. You had one hand on the steering wheel, the other reached behind the driver’s seat to hold mine. I tightened my grasp in yours. I watched the city pass, and the cars and the conversation pass — we’d been here before. Catch some light and you’ll be all right, for now.
God, it was strange, watching you peel away clothes, settling into a sterile exam table like a specimen under florescent lighting. The room was crammed and crowded. Your parents and I stuffed ourselves in the cornered chairs, merely watching you undress. It was uncomfortable, wasn’t it? I’m sorry I subjected you to an endless pep talk as I tied the back of your gown. It made me feel capable, gave me a purpose. Even in my pep talk I couldn’t help but snicker at the stupidity of the whole thing. Wondering why we were even here. What could this doctor say or do that the others didn’t already try? Two opinions in a day. Did we really need more bad news? Your parents kept discussing the first doctor’s suggestions of clinical trials and possibly another surgery. I didn’t know what a clinical trial was, so I asked. He was agreeable and informed me that clinical trials were studies of new and innovative treatments for cancer. I liked the idea of options. And, that’s when she walked into the room. Taline, the nurse practitioner, turned with the word hello then closed the office door behind her. We all greeted her in unison, “Good afternoon.” She smiled at our response, her wrinkles curled before her lips. She in a white lab coat, with eyes that sparkled and glittered, she was beautiful. You rubbed your hands together to ease the shake. I noticed. I was sort of jealous, but you looked too cute and shy to tease.