It's Coming Around Again

drama of the normal

Some names changed to protect the all too human.

UPDATE: Steve died peacefully in his sleep Monday morning at 4 am, July 8, 2024

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‘I know nothing stays the same, but if you’re willing to play the game, it will be coming around again’

—Carly Simon

Last year my good friend and mentor, Lisa Carlson, died. As we suspected at a year out, her husband, Steve, is ready to go, too.

We’re on death watch today, me and the family. Steve is as comfortable as a sick old man can be with morphine, Ativan, and Haldol on demand (I swear I can’t wait to be on hospice). But he’s ready to leave. He says that Lisa has been around this week in the room comforting him. Last night that changed; he now says Lisa is waiting for him. If you knew this force-of-nature woman, you wouldn’t want to try her patience.

We hope he’ll make it until his daughter Rebecca arrives at the airport tonight at 10 o’clock. Steve has procured what we euphemistically call “end of life medicine,” and will use it when he decides the time is right. It will probably be tomorrow.

His other daughter Jo is out today with Aunt Lorene horseback riding; they haven’t had a break from caring for Steve all week and they need it. Jo is a nurse, so breaks her back giving care and really needs relief. Since I’m an expert diabetic cat wrangler not afraid of injecting and taking blood readings, I’m on tap for Steve’s diabetes management today. It’s not taking much; he isn’t eating so we may not even need to give him any more insulin.

Steve Carlson is a remarkable man who has led a rich life the way he wanted to. He was a longtime chief of staff for the late Vermont Senator Jim Jeffords. After that, Steve went back to journalism with the Associated Press in DC for years. Also a small book publisher, Steve and Lisa ran Upper Access Books for years until it got to be too much for him after her death. The book I co-wrote with Lisa, ‘Final Rights: Reclaiming the American Way of Death,’ came out under that imprint.

Lisa used to joke that she never had to worry about getting a book deal “because I sleep with the publisher.”

Thankfully, the house is full of family and friends. The children are in from the various corners of the globe. The cousins are dropping in and out.

Son Sam is cuddling Charlie the Chihuahua right now, who is the most perfect nugget of tea-cup-sized adorable you have ever seen. It’s like he’s designed to trigger every paternal/maternal “cute” instinct. He’s lying on his back in Sam’s arms with his eyes closed and his little paws flopping down all faggy. Oh also his wee tongue is blepping out. Along with his doodle. It’s apparently normal for Charlie’s BRIGHT RED little penis to sit there being bright red all the time. I can’t stop laughing. We’ve been using him as a hand puppet and making him say “Gimme Gorditas.”

Daughter-in-law Jane is on the phone wrangling with the HVAC company in Louisiana (where she works) to get the walk-in refrigerator at the nursing home she works at fixed. In the middle of 112 degree heat, they lost it and all the food.

Son Josh (not me) is at Steve’s side, talking with him as he comes in and out of consciousness. I just asked Steve if was hungry or thirsty and he said yes but he doesn’t want anything, thank you very much.

The granddaughters are here strolling about in their midriff-baring summer wear, glorying in their youthful beauty and drawing Lisa’s lilies in the yard with colored pencils. They’re both incredible artists.

Uh-oh—now comes Cousin Sarah “from Jolly Johnstown!” as she introduced herself to me. I’ve been warned that Cousin Sarah likes to talk a lot, and find other people’s business out. Confirmed—she is a talker! Her affect is pretty jolly too, but she’s totally Gladys Kravitz.

Did you know what happened to the family business at the old Carrington store after that woman had an affair and ran off with the realtor? Cousin Sarah knows. And now you do, too.

I didn’t want to come today. Of course I was always going to; duty and family are duty and family. I didn’t want to feel the kind of big emotions such times bring out. But it’s not our choice, is it?

Now that I’m here it’s strangely nice, abnormal and normal at the same time. These people are not my blood family, but they’ve adopted me as family. Before knowing the Carlsons, I’d never experienced family gatherings—weddings, funerals, reunions—that didn’t include screaming, accusations, and ultimatums that made me want to melt into the floor. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t want to come today; my emotional gut still expects normal tragedy to be compounded by confected trauma. But normal people don’t live that way, and they don’t die that way.

Steve’s blood sugar isn’t going over 182; I don’t think he’ll need insulin again. In a few minutes it will be time to give him his benzos and opiates. Then it will be time for me to sit with him and tell him what his friendship has meant to me. Right now, in the moment, I don’t want to. But I will.