It wasn't giving-up. It was giving-in.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of the last time I saw one of my favorite clients.

For Cameron

I met Cameron over 4 years ago when he was handed over to me by a therapist who no longer wanted to treat him.
I could understand why the first time I met Cameron.
He was sour he was angry he was impossible.
To say he was ill would be an understatement; he was dying inside and out.
He literally reeked of despair and rot- which are often one in the same.
Aside from being a dialysis patient, he had the onset of congestive heart failure, and advanced arthritis in just about every joint in his body, he was also diabetic.
Along with being on any number of pain meds, he was on insulin and blood thinners which basically made his skin paper thin. He was riddled with scabs and open sores. Working on him was like sidestepping through a minefield. His toes were amputated from his right foot and his legs were so atrophied from not using them, they could barely hold his weight on the rare occasions when he did stand.
He had this cough, this gagging hacking cough that could literally be heard through the office walls which scared the other patients. People were horrified and grossed-out to no end when they heard him cough. I even saw one lady plug her ears. It was bad.
He loathed me at first. He could sense my fear and hated me more for being afraid of working on him. I was hesitant and cautious. I was resentful that he was even "given to me" without warning as to what to expect.
He hated the music I played. He didn't like music that had any kind of words, which later I found kind of ironic. He didn't want to talk at first, which was fine by me. I just did what he wanted me to, which was often just get him to relax and forget about who he was, if for only an hour.
I dreaded every other Wednesday when I pulled into work and saw him waiting in his wheelchair by the door. I would have to will myself just to get out of my car and open the office for him.
I often tried to start him late and finish him early. I know, I'm a jerk. But give me some credit. I had only been doing this for just under a year upon meeting Cameron. I was still under the impression that everyone who received a massage would be beautiful and pleasant.
But slowly, and I mean slowly, he began to open up a little. I was able to see a glimpse of a human being from time to time. Just to get him to smile was a huge leap for me.
As hard as it was to work on him, I refused to give him up. He wasn't an animal to be discarded on some highway (I hate those people by the way). He was human being and I was trying, sincerely trying to see the beauty in him. It was like pulling fucking teeth.
One day while working on him, my mind was elsewhere looking forward to a Vegas trip I had planned and staying at the New York, New York hotel casino. In my head I was singing to myself "I'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Stanton Island too.." When out of nowhere he asked me, "Have you ever been to Stanton Island?"
I had to stop and take inventory, did I just say that out loud?
I hesitated for a second and said, "Uh...no. Why do you ask?"
he then replied, "Are you going there?"
There was an uncomfortable moment when I said nothing. I was a little startled. Oh my God, is he fucking clairvoyant or something?
And then he said, "From time to time."
Thus starting a conversation for the first time in 7 months. All this time, all this time while I worked on him he laid there and quietly read my mind, from cover to cover.
I stopped and asked him, "Is there anything else you want to ask me?"
He siad, "Actually, there is."
So knowing that I could not lie to him I requested a question for a question.
I know it sounds odd but it worked. He opened up like can of worms and he was absolutely beautiful.
We spent every other Wednesday asking and answering each other's questions.
He asked me all about my sister and school and relationships I had never mentioned outloud before before, and I answered them. He knew and asked things about me that I had never told a soul. And I in-turn I asked random probing questions.

He had no one. No family that would speak with him, no friends who wanted to be around him and watch him die.
We talked about death all the time.
It's not so dignified.

I know what you're thinking, he must be pretty horrible if no one wants to talk to him.
There is so much more to people then what we see on the outside. There are two sides to every life; the way we live it and the way people see it.
I had never talked so in depth with anyone before until that point. It was amazing.
We would do this thing from time to time where we would pick a word of the day, a word one of us loved. It was stupid and funny, but we always tried to outdo each other.
I know these things mean absolutely nothing to anyone but me, but they're my memories. It's not that often (or it hasn't been lately) where I get to make a connection with a client. Especially one who you know won't be around long.
After a while I started Cameron early and I finished him late. I watched as his skin as it went from olive to grey. His once roundish belly became sunken-in and his face grew hallow. He wore an oxygen mask through his massage.
Towards the end, sometimes he said nothing. He would just cry silently, or he would ask me to sit with him and hold his hand for the first and last 10 minutes. How could I say no?
He told me I would know when it was the last time I'd see him. But I didn't.
He told me someone would contact me when he went. But no one called
The last time I saw him, nothing was different. It was the same just it had always been on one of his "good" days.
And then he just stopped showing up. There was no one answering his phone and the only address I had was a p.o box.
And that was it.

He always believed it was his karma that caught up with him- this horrible slow death. This man, a scholar from UC Berkeley. An amazing story teller who conjure up imagines, space and time using only his words. He could quote any great author and recite poetry in a blink of an eye. Father of two. Former CEO of a fortune 500 company. Flew his fiance to Paris from New York for breakfast. Lover of animals. Wept when his only pet died in his arms. Always hugged me when he said goodbye. Told me to cheer-up before I even said a word. Told me I would outlive anyone I knew because my heart was so big.

What is more important; who you are or who you were?

I miss him. He was fearless. He was honest. He was alone. He was at peace- at least I hope he was. He was my friend. He was beautiful.
I think of him all the time.