01-20-2007, 11:19 PM
It was a hellish week. My boss just returned from China on Monday and it looks like we're going to do our 15th Anniversary party in Sichuan. That means for the next six months, I'm going to have to work my ass off to figure out how this is going to happen exactly. What's more, my Shaolin monk master arrived in Vegas on Monday too. I've been scrambling to coordinate a trip here for him, but it's not like he gave me a lot of notice. My office is swamped already without trips to and from China. Moreso, I'm so freakin' out of shape that a lesson now will probably break me. I just popped my shoulder out again jumping rope with Tara. Shaolin may be the death of me.
Monday was MLK day so Sylvia (Dan's sig o) came by and we went to visit Buster at lunch. I so glad we did. He was still lucid and we got to chat with him for a while. After a mediocre practice on Tuesday (my Sichuan master is in Sichuan to work on the party) I got home and got a call that Buster's time was nigh. I took a shower and debated going. He was at Oakland Kaiser. When I got out of the shower, it was pouring rain outside. I drew a tarot card from the deck Mark gave me - fuerza - strength. The action was clear.
It was the first death I've been at with my Rock Med comrades. We had an incredible amount of medical skill bedside - a doc, three nurses, the rest all seasoned medics - I was one of the younger volunteers at 20 years of service. There were 10 of us, and the Kaiser ICU was very obliging to allow us all to be there. Buster was agonal and we all knew it was a matter of hours. We took turns holding him. Our nurses kept him clean since fluid kept clogging his oxygen mask. Buster had no family that we knew of. There were rumors of a mother and stepfather in San Diego, and rumors of a daughter, which came as a complete surprise to a few of us. Everyone is glad that he didn't face crossing over alone.
At midnight, it was the birthday of one of our attending nurses.
When the time came, our medics knew by the monitors and we all drew near. We all laid our hands on him and each other and spoke our final words to him. I've never had my hands on such a close friend as they left before. I've been around plenty of dead bodies, but I've not felt the moment like that before. He left us at 12:50.
I got home, wrote a quick obit for rockmed.org, and got a few hours sleep. The next day was pretty hazy. It was our 6th annual Anchor Brewery tour, sponsored by a kindly supporter, something organized by Syl, me, Konrad (who was also at bedside) and Mike. It became a glorious wake for Buster. He loved the brewery tour. He used to come in with his little bag of sin, a medical-like bag filled with top shelf single malts, Jameison, and nice shot glasses. He'd set up bar in one of the offices and pour for anyone who had a taste for whiskey. We had many fine bottles set up Wednseday in Buster's honor and I can't remember all the toasts. I may have drank more whiskey than beer. Fortunately I had arranged a DD for myself long ahead of time. Nevertheless, I barely slept a wink, tweaking about the whole experience and mourning my lost friend. We didn't even know he was sick until last week.
Thursday and Friday were all meetings at work. I got a slight reprieve because my boss brought back some video samples for me to review, which is a low energy task. Occassional waves of sadness would sweep over me. I skipped practice on Thursday to get some sleep. Yesterday, I stayed up late watching a crappy kung fu DVD. Today, I was pretty good - spending it with my family and seeing a play - except for right now, as I write this to you.
Buster could have easily been a DOOM brother. He was that kind of cool. He enjoyed whacked out video, loved the Residents, knew his single malts, had a wicked sense of humor and owned several nice swords. I had actually invited him to join us at Mark's once or twice over the years, but it never worked out.
Someday we might be at each other's death bedside. I wonder how far away that will be.
Monday was MLK day so Sylvia (Dan's sig o) came by and we went to visit Buster at lunch. I so glad we did. He was still lucid and we got to chat with him for a while. After a mediocre practice on Tuesday (my Sichuan master is in Sichuan to work on the party) I got home and got a call that Buster's time was nigh. I took a shower and debated going. He was at Oakland Kaiser. When I got out of the shower, it was pouring rain outside. I drew a tarot card from the deck Mark gave me - fuerza - strength. The action was clear.
It was the first death I've been at with my Rock Med comrades. We had an incredible amount of medical skill bedside - a doc, three nurses, the rest all seasoned medics - I was one of the younger volunteers at 20 years of service. There were 10 of us, and the Kaiser ICU was very obliging to allow us all to be there. Buster was agonal and we all knew it was a matter of hours. We took turns holding him. Our nurses kept him clean since fluid kept clogging his oxygen mask. Buster had no family that we knew of. There were rumors of a mother and stepfather in San Diego, and rumors of a daughter, which came as a complete surprise to a few of us. Everyone is glad that he didn't face crossing over alone.
At midnight, it was the birthday of one of our attending nurses.
When the time came, our medics knew by the monitors and we all drew near. We all laid our hands on him and each other and spoke our final words to him. I've never had my hands on such a close friend as they left before. I've been around plenty of dead bodies, but I've not felt the moment like that before. He left us at 12:50.
I got home, wrote a quick obit for rockmed.org, and got a few hours sleep. The next day was pretty hazy. It was our 6th annual Anchor Brewery tour, sponsored by a kindly supporter, something organized by Syl, me, Konrad (who was also at bedside) and Mike. It became a glorious wake for Buster. He loved the brewery tour. He used to come in with his little bag of sin, a medical-like bag filled with top shelf single malts, Jameison, and nice shot glasses. He'd set up bar in one of the offices and pour for anyone who had a taste for whiskey. We had many fine bottles set up Wednseday in Buster's honor and I can't remember all the toasts. I may have drank more whiskey than beer. Fortunately I had arranged a DD for myself long ahead of time. Nevertheless, I barely slept a wink, tweaking about the whole experience and mourning my lost friend. We didn't even know he was sick until last week.
Thursday and Friday were all meetings at work. I got a slight reprieve because my boss brought back some video samples for me to review, which is a low energy task. Occassional waves of sadness would sweep over me. I skipped practice on Thursday to get some sleep. Yesterday, I stayed up late watching a crappy kung fu DVD. Today, I was pretty good - spending it with my family and seeing a play - except for right now, as I write this to you.
Buster could have easily been a DOOM brother. He was that kind of cool. He enjoyed whacked out video, loved the Residents, knew his single malts, had a wicked sense of humor and owned several nice swords. I had actually invited him to join us at Mark's once or twice over the years, but it never worked out.
Someday we might be at each other's death bedside. I wonder how far away that will be.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse