an odd week

Well, this past week was very peculiar in the land of Rotary.

Sunday last I got a phone message from my good friend Marc. I tried calling him back at work on Monday, only to be told he was too busy to take my call. No big deal, right? I'll see him at breakfast on Tuesday, like I always do. Invariably, he and I end up sitting together, and we catch up then.

Only he didn't show for breakfast on Tuesday, and I figured something was up. Sure enough, past president Carl Kruse (or PP, as we like to call him) was running the meeting and announced that Marc was going in for brain surgery that day.

I called Marc at home immediately (forgive me, speaker of the day - this seemed a bit more important) and he said he was going in for tests at 4 and for surgery at 7. Given the slurring in his speech from just before the holidays, I knew something was probably up, but figured it was a stroke - never a brain problem.

Turns out the poor guy has a tumor and they were hoping to resolve the situation.

Wednesday I went to a luncheon at the Poway, California lunch club. Somehow they've been able to wangle getting the president of RI to address their club each of the past three years. Neat trick. They use it as a fundraiser, and charge $25 to attend. Of course, it would have been nice if someone had told me that prior to my showing up at the door, but you can't have everything, right?

They have a big sign at the door that they take Mastercard and Visa, but they didn't take either. Seems the one person who knows how to do that wasn't there that day. Sounds like poor planning to me.

So president Wilf Wilkinson spoke to us, but frankly, he didn't say anything that memorable. He was reading from notes, and seemed to be poorly prepared. I'm not even sure he knew which club he was at.

I did take a few minutes to speak with him after the meeting. I had what I considered to be legitimate thoughts on what they could do to improve visibility (more PR, naturally, and actually show people how to do it, a la my presentation at PETS). He dashed off with the president of the club to have a picture taken, and just gave me lip service. I didn't particularly appreciate it. He also seemed to be in quite a hurry to leave after the photo op.

I also spoke with his incoming replacement about Peter Meisen's idea of electrifying Africa as the next big RI project after we defeat polio. His answer: "That would be a great club project to take on". Talk about not even listening to what someone was saying to you.

Bottom line - these guys are just politicians in another type of suit, and I'm not very impressed.

Meanwhile, back to Marc and important things, like his health. I spoke with his wife as soon as I got out of the luncheon, and she let me speak with Marc briefly, since he's so wiped out. He sounded terrible, but there was rumor he'd go home that day or the next. GREAT NEWS!

Thursday, things took a turn for the worse. They operated again to try and relieve the pressure in his brain, but it doesn't look good. Turns out the tumor is the size of a golf ball, cancerous, very aggressive, has been there for about seven months, and...

So Thursday night I went to the hospital and wiggled my way into the ICU to see my breakfast companion one last time. He's a good guy, and I'd do anything to help - I had to go show my respects.

So I went to the ICU and, while the family (who had all flown in from Philadelphia) and his wife and son met with the doctors, I talked to him. It was a rather one-sided discussion. We talked about football and how he owed me a plate of buffalo wings and I owed him a caesar salad. He looked awful, hooked up to a machine that let him breathe. His arm moved, but was it intentional? Who knows?

So now I have this anger and frustration that my pal Marc - one of the good guys - is probably never coming home, even as some really rotten people continue to walk around. He's 44, and he's dying, and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it.

And after losing Garth Miller last week (okay, he was 84, but still!), I'm feeling more than a little vulnerable at the moment.