Regular readers know that in May, just before giving a dinner speech, I learned that my younger brother Steve had died that day. I blogged about how I’d hardly known him, and my sister Suede (much closer to his age) replied about what a loss that was. Lots of you commented, here and on Facebook and email.
Separately, last week I posted that after years of wanting to be a Parrothead, I’m finally going to my first Jimmy Buffett concert Tuesday night. I blogged about wanting to learn everything I could about Parrothead culture.
Suede wrote again – and guess who was a bigtime Parrothead:
Steve
You will have a blast. Too bad stevo isn’t around…he was a huge, huge buffett fan and knew every single piece of exactly what came with it. … he loved having all the back story and history on everything that got his attention, researched that tirelessly, then loved to tell all of it to anyone willing to listen. He knew all there is to know about jimmy buffett, I’m pretty sure … have a blast.
What do we lose when we don’t speak our wants to our families? And when we don’t listen to them? One of Buffett’s biggest songs is “Cheeseburger in Paradise” – and I thought, “Paradise Lost.” What I’d longed for (in silence) was under my nose, and now it’s gone.
Well Stevo, here’s to you – here’s to the tailgating we never shared. I’ll make it a good one and think of the elbows we never bent.
I’m goin’ to a Jimmy Buffett show, and I need help stat!
Click image or here for an 8 minute video of live performances of “Fins” and “Son of a son of a sailor”: Yeah, that's a Fins license plate from my home state!
Five years ago this month, August 2008, it was a year since my final treatment. I’d beaten cancer and had spent a year wondering “What next? What will I do with my free replay in life??”
What had I always said I’d get around to, someday? In a flash it came to me: Parrothead!!
But there were obstacles. First was the cost of tickets – I was fresh from cancer and a house-sale disaster. Next was that every time I learned about a concert it was already sold out. Then were my three years of being a start-up, with no money for luxuries.
Last winter I realized I could afford it – but again, every time I found a concert it was sold out. What to do?? In early January I did what everyone modern does – turned to social media. I asked Twitter:
I know this is last-minute. I’ve been busy and disorganized, and thrown for a loop (frankly) since the death in my family earlier this month.
Don’t miss this. It’s Monday. Act now! (How often do I say that??)
If you’re a health geek, or a patient centered care geek, or anything of the sort, and you’re in southern California, don’t miss this. Tell your boss right now that you should go – it may be the best conference deal of the entire year (and I see a lot):
Monday, June 3, Long Beach, CA, 8:30-5:00
(Details are at the form link below.)
$150 for one person in the health professions $99 each for three or more (bring colleagues – 3 for the price of 2!) $65 for patients and family members!
The event: Patient & Family Centered Care Partners @PFCCPartners – fourth annual conference. Speakers:
Opening keynote (8:40 a.m.): Bob Wachter @Bob_Wachter, whom I recently heard speak at the Michigan Hospital Association (right). He’s chair of the American Board of Internal Medicine (I’ve worked with some of their people – really terrific), and Wikipedia says he’s “a prominent academic physician on the faculty of UCSF … regarded as the academic leader of the hospitalist movement, the most rapidly growing field in modern medical history.” He is a true leader and a great speaker.
Closing keynote (4 pm): Me
Also presenting will be Martie Hatlie, a terrific moderator I worked with at a PCORI meeting earlier this year. Tons of experience in patient and family centered thinking.
All this for $150 or less, with extra-special pricing for patients and family!
Let them know you’ll be coming: fill out this info form (site includes full event details). Walk-ins will be welcome but it helps a LOT if they know you’re coming!
See you there – two global keynote speakers, bookending a great day for a great price, hosted by a great organization!
(And who knows, maybe a beverage afterward… I hear Long Beach is lovely in the evening, and I’m staying over. :-)
On May 10, at the KGH Connect conference in Kingston, Ontario, I met Dr. Brian Goldman; we both spoke there. In 2011 he gave this 19 minute TEDx talk in Toronto; please watch it. It’s stunningly clear, grippingly told, and extremely important to understanding the real truth about medicine: it’s complicated. Really complicated.
Doctors make mistakes. Can we talk about that?
He gave me a copy of his book The Night Shift, a chronicle of one night in the ER where he works. The night’s cases are interspersed with the stories and experience that come to an ER doc’s mind with every new patient who comes in. I’ll write more about the book soon. First, as preparation, please spend 19 minutes watching this. What did you learn? Any new thoughts?
Boy, is this a lesson in how two people can experience the same soul.
Last night I posted about the unexpected death last Wednesday of my younger brother Steve, the first of six siblings to pass on. I reflected on the many ways this news was affecting me, even though I had never been close to him. I said I was writing in part to aid the process of dealing with death, especially an unexpected death.
Part of that process happens in family dialog as those left behind share their memories and perspectives. So one comment on yesterday’s post struck a chord: “Listen carefully at the memorial as you will learn things about him you never knew.” It was from online friend Marge Benham-Hutchins, who should know: she lost her husband to cancer last year.
Boy was she right – it started today. Our sister Suede, the jazz/pop/romance singer, was just 14 months older than Steve; they were close growing up, separated from the rest of us by several years on each side, and they stayed close forever. But I had no idea how close, how much she knew that I didn’t.
Here’s what she sent about her experience of him, in response to mine. I’m so grateful, yet saddened anew by our loss. [Read more…]
Updated a day later, adding more recollections. See also the amazing remembrance our sister Suede sent me, in response to mine. It changes everything.
Wednesday afternoon, unexpectedly, my younger brother Steve died, age 55. He was one of six siblings, the first of us to go.
This is the first time anything like this has happened to me, and the effect has been something to watch. I hesitate to write about this because I know so many of you have plenty of experience at death; plus, a thousand people have probably said what I have to say, and better. I just want to record some of the strange thoughts that have come to mind, partly because it’s part of the process and partly because the thoughts are weird.
And I want to remember Steve.
Basics
I got the news just before a dinner meeting Wednesday where I was to give a speech. I had no emotional reaction at first; as is apparently common, my mind zipped into running through logistics (what needs to be done, and when; “When will this sink in?”), then I got on with the evening and my travel to Toronto for the next event.
