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RIP: Danny Lieberman
Oct. 20th, 2012 04:56 amEast coast fan Danny Lieberman died Friday night. (Many thanks, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
filkerdave, for the image link from Renovation.)
In September 2011, Danny was diagnosed with AML, acute myeloid leukemia. He had a bone marrow transplant in May. Last Sunday night, word privately went out that the transplant had become ineffective. He was moving to hospice this past week, most likely Thursday.
The email I saw mentioned the hospice was "in the Bronx for cancer patients" and that an address and other details would go out once he was there. But all I needed were those quoted words to know he was going to Calvary. It's the only place of its kind in the country, and it's where I spent so much time with Susan Palermo last year. I still can't leavebenyalow's place for the drive home without wanting to go straight, up the hill, and on in that direction instead of turning left onto I-87 North, as I'd previously done for years and years, as I've done ever since my last visit with Susan in November 2011.
Back to this past week. I immediately sent email off to Catelynn offering to help, then talked with both Mark Richards and Danny on Monday evening (the New York Mark Richards, not the Minneapolis one). Catelynn had already reminded Danny I knew my way around Calvary. Yes, my providing some caregiving support and patient advocacy sounded good to him. He wanted me to wait until he was at Calvary to come down; we discussed that it would likely be Sunday given his expected schedule and mine. Yep. Good.
During our conversation Monday evening, I asked Danny if sushi was now okay. It had been on the restricted list following the bone marrow transplant, along with many other things that would be a threat to his utterly compromised...well, non-existent...immune system. "I don't see why not," Danny responded, his voice suddenly becoming more animated. He didn't have much appetite right then, but the prospect of sushi sure sounded like a good one. We talked about the importance of, as my Dad always called it, "the joy of the day." And we laughed. I'm holding tightly to the memory of that shared laughter right now; I can still hear and feel it resonating in my hind brain, in my heart.
( Much stream-of-consciousness rambling follows )
filkerdave, for the image link from Renovation.)In September 2011, Danny was diagnosed with AML, acute myeloid leukemia. He had a bone marrow transplant in May. Last Sunday night, word privately went out that the transplant had become ineffective. He was moving to hospice this past week, most likely Thursday.
The email I saw mentioned the hospice was "in the Bronx for cancer patients" and that an address and other details would go out once he was there. But all I needed were those quoted words to know he was going to Calvary. It's the only place of its kind in the country, and it's where I spent so much time with Susan Palermo last year. I still can't leave
benyalow's place for the drive home without wanting to go straight, up the hill, and on in that direction instead of turning left onto I-87 North, as I'd previously done for years and years, as I've done ever since my last visit with Susan in November 2011.Back to this past week. I immediately sent email off to Catelynn offering to help, then talked with both Mark Richards and Danny on Monday evening (the New York Mark Richards, not the Minneapolis one). Catelynn had already reminded Danny I knew my way around Calvary. Yes, my providing some caregiving support and patient advocacy sounded good to him. He wanted me to wait until he was at Calvary to come down; we discussed that it would likely be Sunday given his expected schedule and mine. Yep. Good.
During our conversation Monday evening, I asked Danny if sushi was now okay. It had been on the restricted list following the bone marrow transplant, along with many other things that would be a threat to his utterly compromised...well, non-existent...immune system. "I don't see why not," Danny responded, his voice suddenly becoming more animated. He didn't have much appetite right then, but the prospect of sushi sure sounded like a good one. We talked about the importance of, as my Dad always called it, "the joy of the day." And we laughed. I'm holding tightly to the memory of that shared laughter right now; I can still hear and feel it resonating in my hind brain, in my heart.
( Much stream-of-consciousness rambling follows )
