I have had a male friend for a few months shy of thirty years. When I first met him, he was heading a major, nationally traded company. I was pirated from my firm by a headhunter to come in for an interview. I told him on that interview day that he would hire me and all the reasons why. I went to the interview with my boot on his neck and I knew I already had the upper hand. I had liked my then-current job. The pay was good, I worked, I had benefits, the hours were flexible, I had my own office and a staff of 22. I decided I would toy with him and have a little fun while I was doing it. It totally worked!! I told him how much he would pay me, how much my commission would be, how many vacation days I would get, etc. We both stood up, shook hands like "men," and then I told him he wouldn't be seeing me until the first of next month because I intended to take a vacation before I started since I hadn't had one in over five years. I also told him I wanted time to buy some new suits with the hiring bonus check he was going to write for me before I left that day. I was a hot commodity and I knew it. He needed ME even more than he needed the staff and clients I would bring with me. I got everything I asked for and more.
Two years into my employment there, I began to get sick. Really sick. I went to specialist after specialist. I was out sick more days than I was in the office and at my desk. I tried tele-commuting for several months, which ended with a lengthy stay at a hospital where I was put on a respirator. I had lost the ability to breathe on my own.
A few more months went by and I finally got the diagnosis of "Myasthenia Gravis." I was put on a massive dose of steroids and other drugs, weaned off the respirator, and sent home in a deep depression where I cocooned myself and applied for long-term disability. It had been my good fortune to opt for the maximum insurance policy when given the choice at the point of hiring. Incidentally, the long-term steroid dosing contributed to ruining my heart. Steroids for me were a wretched catch-22, since I needed them to live through the MG crises, but they were killing my heart in the process.
I could no longer sit up in an office chair for 8 or more hours a day. Some days I wasn't even strong enough to lift my head. Other days I found I could not speak...the vocal chords are muscles, of course, and MG is a neuro-muscular disease. It got to the point that I never knew which part of me wouldn't work each morning I woke.
During that time I found out just what a good friend he was. He would often pick me up and take me places where I wouldn't have been able to go by myself. He would bring me groceries. He would buy, and deliver prescriptions if I didn't have cash available. He brought me books and movies and even a new TV when mine rolled belly up, so my mind would stay active.
He took me to a number of book signings that, even though I was no longer technically working, he made sure I got paid for my time in cash. He bought me a wheelchair and personally pushed me 2 blocks uphill to get to a bookstore because that was the closest he could park since the author was a best seller, was there for a signing, so she drew a big crowd. He *NEEDED* me to be there--this author and I had history. Back then I could have recited by memory every single one of her books I had had, and he himself only knew one trilogy by this author under a different nom de plume she used when writing in a particular style.
If he had me with him, he got to go to the head of the class, right up front, directly to the table...no standing in line, no madding crowd, no toddlers alternating between eating boogers and screaming as their mothers dragged them along in strollers, or on child-sized harnesses and leashes .At some point, early into my disability, my former boss became my best friend and we have stayed friends all these years.
We had worked together as colleagues, and we have also been business partners, this man and I over the years, have started two companies together after I retired with my disability, and he quit the initial company that had brought us together. And, of course, we were for the longest time, best friends. He told me I was, in fact, his ONLY friend, not just his best friend, and the only completely trust worthy person he knew.
For almost thirty years we have talked several times a week on the phone, sometimes several times daily, and at any and all hours of the day and night. Just before last Christmas when I was having anxiety attacks, he told me, "You can call me any time, ANY TIME, day or night. I sleep with my phone right next to my head. I will always be there for you. He told me a few years back that he had often wished I was his wife and confessed that he had married the wrong person.
After 15 years, my myasthenia was finally under control with medication, and only became potentially "gravis," or deadly, if I had a concurrent active illness. I left the state due to another job, only to be brought down by a new illness.
When he found out I was going to have heart surgery he told me to make sure he was notified immediately if something happened to me, and if my health suddenly took a turn for the worse. We discussed wills and living wills. There was not one subject that was ever off limits. We could talk about anything.
The last time I talked to him he had told me his own health was getting worse. He said he had the alarming symptom of enormously swollen legs..that morning he had awakened and his legs were so swollen he couldn't even put his pants on and had to have his wife go out and buy some giant sweat pants just so he could get to the doctor later that day. I begged him to go to the Emergency Room at the local hospital, because the first thing that came to my mind when he told me of his alarming symptom, was the health of his heart. That was the day before New Year's Eve, 2015. At the end of the first week of January, I realized I hadn't heard from him. I had assumed I would hear from him later that day, or the next day at the latest, that he was probably dealing with whatever illness he had and wanted to be left alone.
Several days went by and still he had not phoned me. I tried to call him the next day, and the next, and on the third day...no answer to any of my calls. I became alarmed. I called every day that week. Each time, no answer. I sent emails to all the accounts I knew he had from all the accounts that I have myself...no answer. After that first week and the flurry of unanswered phone calls I began to think the worst. I called at least once, maybe twice a week thereafter.
When my Uncle/Brother Mikey died, on January 23rd, I thought at the time I would be in his city for the funeral. I again called him, leaving a message about the death and saying I would be in town for the funeral and I wanted to meet. No response. The following week I called a few more times until the last call I made went straight to his voice mail.
I sent another volley of emails, short and to the point, subject line: WHERE ARE YOU? The body of the emails said, "I can only assume that something bad has happened to you. The last time we spoke you were worried about your grossly swollen legs and I was actually worried about your heart. PLEASE contact me to let me know what has happened!" He had admitted to me late last year during one of our regular phone calls that he had gained over 150 pounds since we had last seen each other, so I was definitely worried about his heart.
Yesterday morning, March 13, 2016, I finally got a response from his main email account stating the following: "I just got back from Hong Kong. Stop trying to contact me." The most brief response I had ever gotten from him in the entire 30 years.
WHAT. THE. HELL? What friend sends an email like that? Does this make any kind of sense? Have I suddenly lost my mind and awakened in an alternate universe? It makes me want to get in my car and drive to his house just to punch him in the teeth. It might take me 3 days to drive 400 miles, but I'd do it for the sole reason of making myself feel better.
I recall having a conversation with him on the very day England pulled out of Hong Kong and how neither of us would want to go there ever now that the Chinese were back in control, so this response makes absolute zero sense to me.
After 30 years you do shit like this to me? No explanation at all? No "I'm sorry I was the cause of your worry?" No "I wanted to scare the shit out of you on purpose?" No "We've been friends for 30 years, but I decided you weren't worth notifying about my departure from the country?" I take it back. He doesn't deserve to be punched in the teeth. This calls for a throat punch. Jesus Wept.
