life with (out) tad: going to the chapel (and stanford)

Our arrival in the Heart Lodge - greeted by the oh-so-sweet Gregg

Exchanging vows in the presence of our community.

Tad and I made it to Saratoga Springs for the summer Billy gathering.

It was glorious: 95 degree northern arid heat, tree frogs, woodpeckers and other wild birds chirping and chatting throughout the day, cool breezes flowing in before nightfall, short dips in the giant hot tub or the pool, naps beneath the trees, long meals on the front porch of our cabin with loving friends.

And of course the peak moment of the event was our Sunday Celebration of Love and Commitment.

The Billys --as they are called-- are a community of men (and a few women) who came together during the early 80's to help support isolated men with HIV in rural Northern California. Since the AIDS epidemic took a decidedly less fierce turn in the mid-90's the community has developed into a tribe that chooses to come together every two months or so to share and play, to debate and explore, to breathe and meditate, to do yoga and make music, to nap and frolic and to eat really good food! Hidden far from view beneath the smiles, the hugs and the kindness are the other roles we play in the outside world: advertising execs, doctors, fundraisers, rabbis, therapists, priests, retirees, computer geeks, unemployed, activist, botanist, editor.

This is also the community that has participated the most in keeping money in our care slush fund as well as coming to the hospital and house for visits, offering massage and even preparing and freezing gourmet meals that have come in handy; all the perks of a church community without all the rules - except for the golden one! Their presence in our lives is unimaginably precious.

The summer gathering - the largest of the six - seemed the perfect place to celebrate our love.

And so we did.

About one hundred or so of the people present at Saratoga stepped out of their many activities on a very hot summer day to sit with us, to witness us, to bless us.

During the hard days of AIDS Gregg Cassin pioneered what would be called "Healing Circle" an event which brought people in pain together in the Castro every Tuesday night year in a year out. He lovingly agreed to organize and officiate the ceremony. Our talented cook Burt whipped up an amazing three tiered cake -(little did he know it was Tad's favorite: white cake with light cream frosting) - which John, a design whiz from LA covered in pink, blue and green foliage. The multi-talented Ilyas played the cello deeply and beautifully, handsome Tom read Walt Whitman heartfully, Joe gave us an American Indian blessing which Ezra matched with a simple, poignant Hebrew one. We began the ceremony by evoking our ancestors (especially our loving grandmothers and Tad's mom) and ended by exchanging declarations of love for one another, promises to one another and rings to seal the deal. The final gesture was a touching, hands-on blessing where everyone moved into send us on our way with love.

Unfortunately the huge swings in NorCal temperatures (mid-90's by day, low 50's at night) caused Tad's bone pain to get worse. He went from being perky and energetic at home to being mostly housebound and in excruciating pain during the gathering.

The morning of the event Gregg took me aside and asked me if I didn't think it was too much for Tad - he seemed so weak and in so much pain. Not surprisingly I had already asked Tad the same thing and he responded he was determined to do this. I told Gregg: "Don't worry he'll knock their socks off."

And indeed he did.

There is nothing like the soft loving voice of someone visibly caught in hand-to-hand combat with life and death to move an audience. The equal presence of deep love and potential death was palpable. We all knew it, felt it and it helped us all remember the pain of our many losses from the past but also what is important to us in our lives in the present.

Or at least that's what I THINK was happening since most of it was a fuzzy, buzzy blur of tears, sweat, laughter, fear and joy that kept my brain from processing - not a bad thing for my overworking grey matter.

What I haven't yet mentioned is that on our way to the gathering we stopped at Stanford to meet with the oncologist recommended to us by the Seattle doctors. He agrees that there is still a possibility of attaining remission and, though it will make for a rocky road, he is willing to give Tad another combination of chemotherapy. Tad has decided that he wants to pursue more treatment. The protocol will look a lot like the previous ones: five days of chemo followed by an immune system that bottoms out then regains strength as the leukemia cells die off. The protocol he is proposing is not the one that Dr Estey in Seattle recommended but it is one Dr Medeiros is comfortable with, has experience with, and a treatment which he has seen patients similar to Tad use to get rid of a stubborn form of leukemia. He will be in the hospital and in isolation for about a month and then come home while we wait for the results.

For those unfamiliar with the Bay Area, Stanford is almost equi-distant between Tad's and my house. It's a quick ride to San Francisco. So hopefully I'll be able to spend more time in my own digs. I'm praying they don't have the standard-issue, uncomfortable, fold-out beds for family members for those nights when I do want to spend stay over with Tad. Also a friend nearby has offered to let me stay at his mother-in-law's nearby house which he and his wife have just inherited.

So Tad's immune system is shot. He stays alive thanks to donated blood. We both know that something could happen and he could die very quickly - or do we? Can any of us actually grasp the reality of death before it happens? I don't think so.

What I know is that we are still in the game. Tad is still doing lots of things each day. He looks stronger and healthier than he has in a while. We're surrounded by incredibly loving people and as I said during my vows: there is no other place for me to be than by his side.