It's times like this that having an engineer's mind is a terrible thing. Just when I think the post-mortem review of my caregiver performance has finished, I start all over again. The good. The bad. The difficult choices. It always ends with a big dose of humility. BR wasn't mine to save. My job wasn't to keep him alive. It was to give him the best life I could. And as much as I wish I could have done both, it wasn't meant to be.
So with that in mind, I'm saying goodbye to The Wheel of Fortuna. BR and I had an amazing life together. If what we shared here was of any use to you, well then the blog has served its purpose. I will be sticking around the MS blogging world to share in your joys and lend support when you are down. To those who have supported BR and me through this blog, you have my eternal gratitude.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Amsterdam Postcards
Wisconsin and Illinois Postcards
Rain and construction made for extended hours on the road
Breakfast with KimmieG and Mike
In front of their Christmas Tree home
Shut your ...
BBQ and commentary
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Riding the grief roller coaster
It started out with tears of joy. BR and I finally found a way to take away his pain that worked.
The week that followed was full of family and friends. Laughter through tears. I told Jordan she was welcome to stay, and we would work out the details later. She's now putting down roots, buying a scooter and looking for a job nearby. I'm glad for the continued company, but I worry that I'm being a big downer. There are times in the afternoon when I need to go to my room, close the door, and pretend to sleep. Sleep actually found me today, and I'm grateful for that.
Then there are times when I become exceptionally productive. Bought a new battery for the minivan and had the electrical system repaired. Had both mine and my neighbor's sprinkler system repaired. (I mowed over one of her tree bubblers.) Started an inventory of the leftover medical supplies. Looks like I'll have to donate them to a charity that sends them overseas due to US and Texas law.
And then I'll go to make dinner. "What do you... hmm. What do I want?" I have to admit, there is more cheese in the fridge than ever before.
The feelings I have right now are similar to those I had when I spent my junior year in college studying abroad in Paris. I was alone, with limited contact to my familiar support system. The difference is that now, BR is gone. Back then, I still had one more year of school back home. It hurt like hell, but I became a better person for it.
Even disabled, BR was the glue that held so many parts of my life together. Now that he's gone, I feel like I have to do it all myself. But I can't. That's the whole point of marriage -- two people coming together through love to do more than either one could do on their own. So right now, I'm focusing on the immediate. The bills are on autopilot. The people I see get first shot at a smile. Everything else may have to wait.
In this big-ass world, though, there are people important to me who were unable to attend the memorial service. So I've booked some travel to see them. First up is KimmieG and her husband Mike in Wisconsin. She was my one and only girlfriend in high school, and no matter how far apart we are, we will always be connected. Then I'll head to Chicago to see Joy. I met Joy while participating in the first Texas AIDS Ride -- a 7 day bicycle ride from Austin through Houston to Dallas. A similar bond formed. Next, I'll spend Mother's Day and the day after with my parents in Belvidere, Illinois. From all accounts, Mama is doing really well since being discharged from the nursing home.
From there, I'll be hopping a flight to Boston with a connection to Paris, followed by a train to Amsterdam. After some sleep, I'll be meeting Herrad and Richie for the first time in the flesh, and letting them know what their online friendship has meant to both BR and me. They are the only other couple we'd discovered who have lived through the same rapid progression of MS. Just knowing that we were not alone made all the difference during the difficult times.
Upon returning to Paris, I plan to sit by the Seine in the early morning, reading a book and conversing casually with passers by.
The week that followed was full of family and friends. Laughter through tears. I told Jordan she was welcome to stay, and we would work out the details later. She's now putting down roots, buying a scooter and looking for a job nearby. I'm glad for the continued company, but I worry that I'm being a big downer. There are times in the afternoon when I need to go to my room, close the door, and pretend to sleep. Sleep actually found me today, and I'm grateful for that.
Then there are times when I become exceptionally productive. Bought a new battery for the minivan and had the electrical system repaired. Had both mine and my neighbor's sprinkler system repaired. (I mowed over one of her tree bubblers.) Started an inventory of the leftover medical supplies. Looks like I'll have to donate them to a charity that sends them overseas due to US and Texas law.
And then I'll go to make dinner. "What do you... hmm. What do I want?" I have to admit, there is more cheese in the fridge than ever before.
The feelings I have right now are similar to those I had when I spent my junior year in college studying abroad in Paris. I was alone, with limited contact to my familiar support system. The difference is that now, BR is gone. Back then, I still had one more year of school back home. It hurt like hell, but I became a better person for it.
Even disabled, BR was the glue that held so many parts of my life together. Now that he's gone, I feel like I have to do it all myself. But I can't. That's the whole point of marriage -- two people coming together through love to do more than either one could do on their own. So right now, I'm focusing on the immediate. The bills are on autopilot. The people I see get first shot at a smile. Everything else may have to wait.
In this big-ass world, though, there are people important to me who were unable to attend the memorial service. So I've booked some travel to see them. First up is KimmieG and her husband Mike in Wisconsin. She was my one and only girlfriend in high school, and no matter how far apart we are, we will always be connected. Then I'll head to Chicago to see Joy. I met Joy while participating in the first Texas AIDS Ride -- a 7 day bicycle ride from Austin through Houston to Dallas. A similar bond formed. Next, I'll spend Mother's Day and the day after with my parents in Belvidere, Illinois. From all accounts, Mama is doing really well since being discharged from the nursing home.
From there, I'll be hopping a flight to Boston with a connection to Paris, followed by a train to Amsterdam. After some sleep, I'll be meeting Herrad and Richie for the first time in the flesh, and letting them know what their online friendship has meant to both BR and me. They are the only other couple we'd discovered who have lived through the same rapid progression of MS. Just knowing that we were not alone made all the difference during the difficult times.
Upon returning to Paris, I plan to sit by the Seine in the early morning, reading a book and conversing casually with passers by.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Bobrobert's Memorial Service
When I woke up the day after BR's death, I put iTunes on shuffle and hit play, figuring that if I didn't like the song, I could always skip it. The first song it played was Barry Manilow's One Voice. BR often told me how much he loved this song. I tried to sing along, but kept falling apart with tears. I promised myself I would find a way to work it into the memorial service.
A few days later, I decided on two additional pre-recorded songs. The first was Sandi Patty singing Upon This Rock. One of BR's secret guilty pleasures was inspirational religious music, and Sandi Patty was one of his favorite artists.
A few days later, I decided on two additional pre-recorded songs. The first was Sandi Patty singing Upon This Rock. One of BR's secret guilty pleasures was inspirational religious music, and Sandi Patty was one of his favorite artists.
If in a simple carpenterThe second song was To Me, a duet by Lee Greenwood and Barbara Mandrell. I know, not the Barbra most of you were expecting. BR's friend Fran Kinman introduced him to this song long before I met him. While we were dating, it became clear that this was the kind of love he was looking for, and wasn't going to settle for less.
You see the Son of God
If you would choose to lose
When you could win
If you would give your life away
For nothing in return
Then you are where
My kingdom will begin.
To meReverend Emile was lined up to do the service and scripture readings, and Gail and Mary Katherine to play the prelude and postlude organ and piano. And as the day of the service neared, I realized that I needed to deliver BR's eulogy myself. But no matter how hard I tried, the things I wrote just didn't do justice to the life we shared together. I decided to focus on how he was always able to build and maintain a circle of friends no matter where he was, and on how much he loved those friends. With my sister Cindy by my side for support, I spoke of the dinner parties on Martel Avenue, the ex-boyfriends, and the neighbors -- many of whom were present in the Gilliam United Methodist Church that Saturday.
You are the hand that I reach for
When I've lost my way
To me
You are the first star of evening
The sun that warms my day
Just as sure as
I'm sure there's a Heaven
This was meant to be
No road is too long
As long as you belong to me
To me
You are the truth I've been living
Girl, I believe in you
To me
You are the love I have looked for
My whole life through
Just as sure as
I'm sure there's a Heaven
This was meant to be
No road is too long
As long as you belong to me
Just as sure as
I'm sure there's a Heaven
This was meant to be
No road is too long
As long as you belong to me
If I had to pick a message to highlight from Bobrobert's life, it would be to hold the ones you love close and tight, and to never stop looking for people to love.The service closed with One Voice. I sang the first verse solo.
Just one voice, singing in the darknessMy family joined me for the second verse and bridge.
All it takes is one voice
Singing so they hear what's on your mind
And when you look around you'll find
There's more than one voiceThen we moved out into the congregation, hugging anyone who would have it. Standing in the aisles, we finished the song.
Singing in the darkness
Joining with your one voice
Each and every note another octave
Hands are joined and fears unlocked
If only one voice would start it on its own
We need just one voice, facing the unknown
And then that one voice would never be alone
It takes that one voice
It takes that one voice
Just one voice, singing in the darkness
All it takes is one voice
Shout it out and let it ring
Just one voice, it takes that one voice
And everyone will sing
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Celebrating Bobrobert
I'll be writing more about the wonderful memorial service and celebration when I return to Austin. But this was just too good not to share right away.
Hazel Vickery was BR's fifth grade social studies teacher. Back then, she taught BR how to dance the Charleston. At the memorial celebration, she entertained the crowd with a couple numbers at the piano. Guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.
Hazel Vickery was BR's fifth grade social studies teacher. Back then, she taught BR how to dance the Charleston. At the memorial celebration, she entertained the crowd with a couple numbers at the piano. Guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Belcher Postcards
These last two photos are of Dede's place of work. She is nicknamed the "Dumpster Diva" for her ability to rescue discarded items and beautify her surroundings.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
BR's brother preaches about love
In this sermon, BR's older brother John talks about how important love is, and how he wishes he had been able to more fully open up his life and his heart to his brother.
John - Bobrobert was so incredibly proud of you and all you have accomplished. And although he sometimes said you were being "made for TV," he never once doubted that you loved him with all of your heart.
John - Bobrobert was so incredibly proud of you and all you have accomplished. And although he sometimes said you were being "made for TV," he never once doubted that you loved him with all of your heart.
Sanctuary | Apr 18 | 11:00 from White's Chapel UMC on Vimeo.
I get by with a little help from my friends
I wasn't there.
I had come home to shower and meet the housekeeper, and was getting ready to walk out the door when Chad and David came in and told me that BR had passed. I think he didn't want me to see it happen.
They drove Jordan and me back to Christopher House, where I was able to say my final goodbye to the body that loved, protected, and supported me for so many years. In his final moments, he was surrounded by people he loved, and I will be forever grateful to them for that. We packed up our stuff, and with one final sniff, we left it behind.
There is no way to fully describe how my friends and neighbors came together to give BR a transit night like no other. The days that followed have been full of laughter, tears, memories, food, and OCG (obsessive-compulsive gardening).
Today, the arrival of my sister Terri and her daughter Hope will mark the beginning of the run up to the memorial service on Saturday. I've started to pick out the music. Beth and Dede are coordinating the celebration that will follow. People who loved BR will be traveling from far and wide to Belcher to share their grief and memories.
It's the sharing of BR stories that is sustaining me right now. Most I've heard. Some are brand new to me. He's touched so many lives.
I had come home to shower and meet the housekeeper, and was getting ready to walk out the door when Chad and David came in and told me that BR had passed. I think he didn't want me to see it happen.
They drove Jordan and me back to Christopher House, where I was able to say my final goodbye to the body that loved, protected, and supported me for so many years. In his final moments, he was surrounded by people he loved, and I will be forever grateful to them for that. We packed up our stuff, and with one final sniff, we left it behind.
There is no way to fully describe how my friends and neighbors came together to give BR a transit night like no other. The days that followed have been full of laughter, tears, memories, food, and OCG (obsessive-compulsive gardening).
Today, the arrival of my sister Terri and her daughter Hope will mark the beginning of the run up to the memorial service on Saturday. I've started to pick out the music. Beth and Dede are coordinating the celebration that will follow. People who loved BR will be traveling from far and wide to Belcher to share their grief and memories.
It's the sharing of BR stories that is sustaining me right now. Most I've heard. Some are brand new to me. He's touched so many lives.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Bobrobert's Obituary
This will run on Friday in Dallas, Shreveport, Baton Rouge, San Francisco, and Austin.
Robert Ray McKellar passed away on Friday, April 23rd, 2010 at Christopher House in Austin, Texas from complications due to multiple sclerosis. He was 49 years old. A memorial service will be held at the Gilliam United Methodist Church, in Gilliam LA on Saturday, May 1st, 2010 at 2 PM. Officiating will be Reverend Emile Rousseau. A celebration of his life will follow at the home of Beth and Mickey McDade in Belcher LA.
Born on December 27th, 1960 in Shreveport, Louisiana to Diana Meares McKellar and Benny Ray McKellar, Bobrobert was raised in an extended family so full of love, it's frightening. An artist and educator by trade, he was also looked to as a trusted friend and counselor by those who were blessed to know him.
On October 10th, 1992, Steven Landherr joined Bobrobert in climbing a waterfall in the Appalachian Mountains, where they exchanged vows of eternal love and commitment between themselves and God. Their love for one another was ridiculously strong, weathering the unfathomable stresses and pain of MS as it quickly stole many of his abilities and eventually his life. During their time together, they lived in Dallas TX, Baton Rouge LA, San Francisco CA, and Austin TX.
Bobrobert is preceded in death by his father Benny McKellar, his maternal grandparents Doris Pearce and John J. Meares, and his paternal grandparents Leveda and Lyman McKellar. He is survived by his husband Steven Landherr of Austin TX, his mother Diana McKellar of Belcher LA, his brother John McKellar and wife Debra of Keller TX, his nephew Jay McKellar of Little Elm TX, his niece Chandler McKellar of Keller TX, his aunt and uncle Beth and Mickey McDade of Belcher LA, his cousins William McDade and wife Kelly of Belcher LA, Paige McDade and husband Frank Hendrick of Belcher LA, and Eric McDade and wife Hillary of Shreveport LA.
Memorials may be made to Equality Texas at http://tinyurl.com/eqtexasbr, or The McDade House, 1825 Warrington Place, Shreveport, LA 71101.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The next phase
BR just got a beautiful batik scarf from Gina in some of the new colors she is using. Makes a lovely IV pole drape!
I didn't get much sleep last night. BR was very restless, but it was a different kind of restless. I could tell he wasn't in pain. The doctor told us this morning that she is pretty sure he is experiencing "terminal delirium" during which he gets restless, has conversations with people who aren't there, and can even try to get out of bed. So we have moved on from treating his pain, to treating the physiological issues that cause the dying brain to be restless. He will continue to receive his pain medications, but they won't be adjusted going forward.
I asked the doctor if we should be encouraging him to "let go and pass on." She said that at this point, he is probably hearing what we are saying, recognizing the voices, but not necessarily catching the intended meaning. She recommended that we tell him we wish he wasn't going, but it is OK that he does. She also recommended giving specifics about how we are going to continue on once he is gone. Not just that I will continue my relationship and care for his mother, but that I will call her regularly and still celebrate holidays with her. Basically, we should put ourselves in his helpless position and imagine the things we would want to hear.
He has received a lot of voice messages from friends that I play for him each evening. With each voice that he hears, he seems to recognize the person speaking and to enjoy what they say. I feel the same way about the comments left here. Thank you!
I didn't get much sleep last night. BR was very restless, but it was a different kind of restless. I could tell he wasn't in pain. The doctor told us this morning that she is pretty sure he is experiencing "terminal delirium" during which he gets restless, has conversations with people who aren't there, and can even try to get out of bed. So we have moved on from treating his pain, to treating the physiological issues that cause the dying brain to be restless. He will continue to receive his pain medications, but they won't be adjusted going forward.
I asked the doctor if we should be encouraging him to "let go and pass on." She said that at this point, he is probably hearing what we are saying, recognizing the voices, but not necessarily catching the intended meaning. She recommended that we tell him we wish he wasn't going, but it is OK that he does. She also recommended giving specifics about how we are going to continue on once he is gone. Not just that I will continue my relationship and care for his mother, but that I will call her regularly and still celebrate holidays with her. Basically, we should put ourselves in his helpless position and imagine the things we would want to hear.
He has received a lot of voice messages from friends that I play for him each evening. With each voice that he hears, he seems to recognize the person speaking and to enjoy what they say. I feel the same way about the comments left here. Thank you!
The business of dying
Sorry I'm not much for words right now.
Tuesday, BR had a bit of a rally, charming his guests during his moments of clarity.
Wednesday has seen him sink deeper into the illness. I can count the number of true interactions with him on one hand, and they were no more than a single back and forth. His heart rate is hovering around an unsustainable 120 bpm.
I made a list of the number of accounts and possessions that are in BR's name -- there are only 4. I deposited his stock certificate into his brokerage account, and hope I can liquidate it soon. Then I will be able to close it, his bank account, and his credit card. His mother will be given the meager proceeds, as we had planned.
I also spoke with the hospice social worker, who put me in touch with a nearby funeral home that will handle the cremation. After discussion with his mother and aunt, we have decided to buy a magnolia tree, and plant it on their property in Louisiana, using his ashes as fertilizer. That way he will always be close to his family, and his story can be passed down to future generations.
His aunt also generously offered to host a memorial party at her home in Belcher, and I have accepted. I want to make it one they will talk about for decades to come. Tastefully, of course. :-)
Tuesday, BR had a bit of a rally, charming his guests during his moments of clarity.
Wednesday has seen him sink deeper into the illness. I can count the number of true interactions with him on one hand, and they were no more than a single back and forth. His heart rate is hovering around an unsustainable 120 bpm.
I made a list of the number of accounts and possessions that are in BR's name -- there are only 4. I deposited his stock certificate into his brokerage account, and hope I can liquidate it soon. Then I will be able to close it, his bank account, and his credit card. His mother will be given the meager proceeds, as we had planned.
I also spoke with the hospice social worker, who put me in touch with a nearby funeral home that will handle the cremation. After discussion with his mother and aunt, we have decided to buy a magnolia tree, and plant it on their property in Louisiana, using his ashes as fertilizer. That way he will always be close to his family, and his story can be passed down to future generations.
His aunt also generously offered to host a memorial party at her home in Belcher, and I have accepted. I want to make it one they will talk about for decades to come. Tastefully, of course. :-)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Calmer nights, busier days
"Turn that off. I don't think I can handle this and Barbra Streisand." BR's mother, Dede had arrived with tears in her eyes, followed by her sister, Beth.
BR has slept peacefully now for two nights in a row. At the first sign of restlessness, I have been calling the nurse for breakthrough pain medication, but I've only had to call once at night. I'm very happy with the progress keeping his pain down.
We are now in full visitor mode here at Christopher House. In addition to Dede and Beth, our neighbors Cindy, Damaris, and Suzy have made and delivered dinners. BR's brother John, niece Chandler, and John's associate pastor Todd drove down from Keller for the day. Scot, Cathy, and Sharon are here from Dallas. Chad and David have flown in from Colorado, and Jay from Miami. Their presence is a great comfort. There's nothing like laughing with family and friends to take the edge off.
BR was awake, but not totally alert for most of the day yesterday. Most of what he says is unintelligible, and we treasure the moments when he is able to clearly express his feelings. For example, when I told him Jay was coming, he let out a long "oooh, Lord!"
Yesterday morning, it looked as if BR was down to his last hours. His heart was racing. His blood pressure was very low. His hands, feet, knees and elbows were purple and splotchy. After a full day of company, his vitals stabilized. I'm guessing that he refuses to be left out of a good party.
The doctors added IV Ketamine to BR's pain med cocktail. Yes, Bob Duff -- BR is now mainlining Special K. And it seems to be working. There was no restlessness at all last night, and he woke up this morning asking for "happy coffee." Nevermind that he doesn't drink coffee. I'm trying hard not to get my hopes up, and instead I am just living in the present and letting the future take care of itself.
I need to wrap this up, but not before thanking Herrad, Richie, Anne, Stephany, and Patrick, for rallying the MS blogging world to our support. It's a strange and marvelous community, and I'm glad to be a part of it.
And finally, I've set up an online gallery for people to share their favorite photos of BR. If you have some to share, just go to http://gallery.me.com/bobrobertmckellar/100173, and click the "Upload" button in the toolbar.
BR has slept peacefully now for two nights in a row. At the first sign of restlessness, I have been calling the nurse for breakthrough pain medication, but I've only had to call once at night. I'm very happy with the progress keeping his pain down.
We are now in full visitor mode here at Christopher House. In addition to Dede and Beth, our neighbors Cindy, Damaris, and Suzy have made and delivered dinners. BR's brother John, niece Chandler, and John's associate pastor Todd drove down from Keller for the day. Scot, Cathy, and Sharon are here from Dallas. Chad and David have flown in from Colorado, and Jay from Miami. Their presence is a great comfort. There's nothing like laughing with family and friends to take the edge off.
BR was awake, but not totally alert for most of the day yesterday. Most of what he says is unintelligible, and we treasure the moments when he is able to clearly express his feelings. For example, when I told him Jay was coming, he let out a long "oooh, Lord!"
Yesterday morning, it looked as if BR was down to his last hours. His heart was racing. His blood pressure was very low. His hands, feet, knees and elbows were purple and splotchy. After a full day of company, his vitals stabilized. I'm guessing that he refuses to be left out of a good party.
The doctors added IV Ketamine to BR's pain med cocktail. Yes, Bob Duff -- BR is now mainlining Special K. And it seems to be working. There was no restlessness at all last night, and he woke up this morning asking for "happy coffee." Nevermind that he doesn't drink coffee. I'm trying hard not to get my hopes up, and instead I am just living in the present and letting the future take care of itself.
I need to wrap this up, but not before thanking Herrad, Richie, Anne, Stephany, and Patrick, for rallying the MS blogging world to our support. It's a strange and marvelous community, and I'm glad to be a part of it.
And finally, I've set up an online gallery for people to share their favorite photos of BR. If you have some to share, just go to http://gallery.me.com/bobrobertmckellar/100173, and click the "Upload" button in the toolbar.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Trying to find comfort
What a difference a year makes. Last year, friends joined BR and me in cheering in the MS150 riders. This year, we had to cross the line of riders to bring BR to Christopher House.
As we start our third night of what the hospice nurses call his body "actively dying," I'm trying to find comfort in the outpouring of support from our friends. Comfort in having Dede and Beth and Jordan by our side. Comfort in the many glimpses of memories that flash across his iPad screen. But for some reason, all they do is make me cry. Not a very comfortable emotional state.
Comfort is found in the ordinary. This is anything but. So I've put the Hello, Dolly DVD into the laptop, and I'm singing along -- just like BR and I have done with friends so many times before.
As we start our third night of what the hospice nurses call his body "actively dying," I'm trying to find comfort in the outpouring of support from our friends. Comfort in having Dede and Beth and Jordan by our side. Comfort in the many glimpses of memories that flash across his iPad screen. But for some reason, all they do is make me cry. Not a very comfortable emotional state.
Comfort is found in the ordinary. This is anything but. So I've put the Hello, Dolly DVD into the laptop, and I'm singing along -- just like BR and I have done with friends so many times before.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Another rough night
BR didn't sleep well at all last night. In addition to moaning and yelling, he started forming sentences. "Honey, please help me" was repeated for six hours straight. Unfortunately, this was a monologue, and I couldn't get him to give me any instructions on what needed fixing. So I continued with the Ativan until morning.
Then around 9am, I asked him how he was doing, and he responded, "my legs and feet are killing me." I pushed my luck and offered him some water through a straw, which he eagerly drank. Not knowing how long this swallowing opportunity would remain, I quickly gave him his oral meds hoping they would reduce his leg pain. Before long, he was finally sleeping.
I called the hospice nurse to ask for more help keeping him comfortable. He called the doctor and they recommended checking BR into Christopher House for in-patient pain management. BR is now comfortable in a private room -- one that has that has Willie Nelson as its generous benefactor.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Soul crushingly painful decisions
Sitting alone in my living room, listening to a spring thunderstorm. BR has always loved thunderstorms. It has been raining most of the past few days. I'm not the only one crying.
The combination of Ativan and Methadone has BR resting comfortably once again. In consultation with his mother and brother, I have decided to discontinue the antibiotics. This beautiful, charming, light soul doesn't deserve to be weighed down any longer by a body that has betrayed him. It's so hard to take myself out of a decision like this. But when I do, I know that he has been looking for an escape from his body for a while now, and I can't deny him this chance.
Benny, come take your Bobrobert by the hand and show him where to get a good, stiff drink.
The combination of Ativan and Methadone has BR resting comfortably once again. In consultation with his mother and brother, I have decided to discontinue the antibiotics. This beautiful, charming, light soul doesn't deserve to be weighed down any longer by a body that has betrayed him. It's so hard to take myself out of a decision like this. But when I do, I know that he has been looking for an escape from his body for a while now, and I can't deny him this chance.
Benny, come take your Bobrobert by the hand and show him where to get a good, stiff drink.
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