Ann's Gay USA fundraiser
Another new intake today made four in two days. Today it’s a trans man in his twenties who happened to meet one of our staff. Our staff member heard he was having trouble getting Medicaid and food stamps and told him to come see me. It sounded like he got denied because of the work requirements that are part of Trump’s Big Ugly Bill. They assigned him to one of the workfare agencies, but when he showed up they told him his appointment was cancelled but then the City considered him out of compliance. I told him that if he had something he was interested in I could find him a much better training program than the workfare ones, but he told me he doesn’t feel up to it right now and his story came spilling out. He is grieving the loss of his younger brother, who at 21 was murdered by his on again off again g irlfriend. His grief about his brother’s loss is being complicated by the memories of his father, who was also murdered, years ago. I told him to come see our psychiatrist Sunday so we can try to get him an exemption from workfare.
I was entering my notes about this conversation when the Very Sick client called. He’s angry at the hospital staff again because his nurse told him that if he ordered take out she would go fetch it from the lobby but when it came she was on lunch and nobody else would go get it. In an effort to motivate someone to go down, he threatened to get out of bed and made a gesture at it although he and I know he can’t actually do it. A nurse panicked and aggressively ordered him to stay in bed and then when he started yelling, called security. “She decided to sit in my doorway,” he said “so I was launching my apple juices at her. Not my Nepro, I need those.” After this incident he declared they are “back to square one” in terms of his cooperation, having lost whatever progress they made in a meeting with him earlier in the day.
“If you keep this up, you are probably going to wind up back in the ICU,” I told him. “What do you want me to do if that happens?” Given his cavalier attitude about staying alive, I was somewhat surprised when he told me to do everything to keep him alive as long as his brain is working. “It can be hard to know how someone’s brain is when they are unconscious and intubated,” I told him, but he was undeterred.
“Just in case,” he said. “If I die, give my backpack to Jeff B. You guys can have my game system for the clients to play. And I have two pairs of Jordans, size 10, one of the clients will want those.” Then he told me his debit card pin and that I should take any cash he has left and use it for the program. “And I want my ashes sprinkled at Coney Island, at the beach. I wanted to go get a funnel cake, and a soft pretzel and a Nathan’s chili dog before I got to this point.” I made a mental note. I think a funnel cake would be cold and gross by the time it got from Coney Island to Manhattan but a Nathan’s chili dog could probably travel.
I hung up the phone with tears in my eyes, and texted my friend Jeff S at Legal Aid’s HIV law project. I explained what he had told me and Jeff sent me a legal form for him to sign giving me control over the disposition of his remains.
By then it was 5:30pm, so I ducked out early, leaving Rachel and Kevin to handle the last of the clients and headed down to Julius Bar in the Village. Tonight was an event honoring Ann Northrop’s retirement from Gay USA to raise money for the show. As I approached the bar, I saw various activists I know chatting on the sidewalk outside. There was already a crowd inside, but more and more people were getting caught up in conversations there on the sidewalk. Ann herself came along and joined the growing crowd. The activist photographers kept having people organize ourselves for a group shot and then more people would come and we would do it again to include them.
Robert from Rise and Resist told me about the oral history project he’s been working on, the ten interviews they have done so far, and asked me if I would do one- next year, because they are booked that far out. Then Andy asked me if I would guest host Gay USA- I told him I could if it were in August because once September starts I will be busy on Wednesday afternoons, so he got out his calendar on the spot and booked me for 8/26. Then Ray found me and while we were chatting about cats, Dean Lance came along and told Ray he meant to get a copy of his book of poems. “I have them with me,” offered Ray. “I’ve started carrying two with me, I just sold one on the upper west side to someone I know.” Dean handed him a twenty and Ray got out his special smear-proof pen and autographed it for him.
Next Ben showed up on his bike and joined us, and the conversation turned to cats. Ben told us that Shannon, the senior cat who lives with his Mom, is not eating. I told him about the magic of chicken baby food, and Ray and I both suggested a vet visit to at least rule out something simple like a UTI. Ray talked about his cat Jasper, who lived for four years with small cell lymphoma, and I told him that Connor is approaching a year with it this month.
Then I found myself in conversation with an old friend from ACT UP, who showed up with his whole arm in a cast. Jackie asked him what happened, and he told us that he had been on his way to Industry City, thinking about getting an egg roll, when he suddenly fell on Sunset Park’s uneven sidewalks and had to have surgery on his broken elbow. Jackie, who has had several falls herself, nodded sympathetically and helped adjust his sling. I noticed that he seemed thinner and frailer than when I last saw him less than a year ago, and when she walked away he lowered his voice and told me that he had just finished treatment for esophageal cancer.
It was time for speeches so we all crammed ourselves into the bar which was packed like a subway at rush hour. As Ann, despite being 78, climbed on to the bar, I found myself jammed so close to Brad Hoylman that I was worried my hair might get caught on the buttons of his suit jacket, which used to happen to me as a kid on rush hour F trains.
Brad made his way to the front and presented Ann with a proclamation as “Manhattan’s first openly queer borough president.” Assemblymember Tony Simone followed with his own proclamation, and there was also one from Erik Bottcher, although his absence allowed Ann to make several jokes at his expense. Ann then gave a speech of her own, followed by a live auction of a photo of her getting arrested at the St Patrick’s Day parade back when Irish gay groups were not allowed.
I was getting uncomfortable in the crowd, so I made my way back outside where Brendan Fay told me about the progress on his documentary about Robert Rygor, which includes footage of a very young me. Andy Humm told us the story of how the Village Voice gave him trouble about saying that Fr Mychal Judge was gay, and how he was able to get confirmation from the Fire Commissioner who had gone to him for counseling when his son came out and had Fr Judge come out himself as a way of reassuring him.
An unexpected effect of my surgery is that in addition to getting rid of the intermittent numbness in the left side of my face, it got rid of the collapsing jello problem in my right leg, so I can stand much longer than I used to but eventually my ankle starts to hurt. I started to leave but got drawn into a conversation with Tom Duane, who told me about the death of his oldest cat, as well as his own arthritis and frequent skin infections. I told him that I used to get a lot of those as well, among other things, but that all stopped after I started the IVIG infusions. He asked me when the next action is, so I told him about the Google AI action tomorrow and he was pleased to hear it’s going to be in Chelsea, walking distance from his apartment in Penn South.
Wishing him goodnight, I made my way to West 4th St, got on the D train and headed home. On the train I thought, death and cats, health issues and activism. These are the themes that surround me these days. Maybe they always have.
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