Hairman
“Hairman” is my hairdresser; the guy who gives me my dreaded permanents.
His name is Joseph Cotteleer (“COT-uh-LEER”).
Apparently his wife, who had cancer, died recently, the beginning of August.
“Linda” was his second wife. He had a daughter by his first wife, who he divorced, and Linda brought along a daughter by her first husband, who Joseph helped raise.
Both daughters produced grandchildren, so Joseph and Linda were doting grandparents who often babysat.
I guess Linda’s daughter hasn’t married yet, a topic of frequent animated discussions at the beauty-shop.
Linda had helped Joseph at the beauty-shop — many were the times she washed and set my hair. She also did all the bookkeeping.
The cancer was Mesothelioma, the kind you get from asbestos.
I had no idea she’d died, of course, so stuck my foot in it.
My Linda had just seen Linda not too long ago, and she had stopped the chemo, so seemed better.
But chemo lowers your resistance to infection, and she developed a bladder infection.
A strong antibiotic was administered, and her lungs started filling with fluid.
That’s what killed her — not the cancer, which was inoperable but slow-growing.
Joseph is hardly a zealot; and apparently has not had much patience with zealots.
“I always wondered why she even got that cancer at all,” I said.
“People are always telling me God is good,” he said. “But a good person just died a horrible death.”
“So how’s Linda?” he asked. (He knew she had had cancer too.)
“Sometimes I think I’m very lucky,” I said. “I still have a wife, and you don’t.”
Joseph now has to run his beauty-shop on his own, and may give it up.
And Linda won’t be around to see her beloved grandchildren grow up.
Joseph is slightly older than me, and has had heart-problems. He quit smoking some time ago.
Linda was in her 50s.
His name is Joseph Cotteleer (“COT-uh-LEER”).
Apparently his wife, who had cancer, died recently, the beginning of August.
“Linda” was his second wife. He had a daughter by his first wife, who he divorced, and Linda brought along a daughter by her first husband, who Joseph helped raise.
Both daughters produced grandchildren, so Joseph and Linda were doting grandparents who often babysat.
I guess Linda’s daughter hasn’t married yet, a topic of frequent animated discussions at the beauty-shop.
Linda had helped Joseph at the beauty-shop — many were the times she washed and set my hair. She also did all the bookkeeping.
The cancer was Mesothelioma, the kind you get from asbestos.
I had no idea she’d died, of course, so stuck my foot in it.
My Linda had just seen Linda not too long ago, and she had stopped the chemo, so seemed better.
But chemo lowers your resistance to infection, and she developed a bladder infection.
A strong antibiotic was administered, and her lungs started filling with fluid.
That’s what killed her — not the cancer, which was inoperable but slow-growing.
Joseph is hardly a zealot; and apparently has not had much patience with zealots.
“I always wondered why she even got that cancer at all,” I said.
“People are always telling me God is good,” he said. “But a good person just died a horrible death.”
“So how’s Linda?” he asked. (He knew she had had cancer too.)
“Sometimes I think I’m very lucky,” I said. “I still have a wife, and you don’t.”
Joseph now has to run his beauty-shop on his own, and may give it up.
And Linda won’t be around to see her beloved grandchildren grow up.
Joseph is slightly older than me, and has had heart-problems. He quit smoking some time ago.
Linda was in her 50s.
posted by BobbaLew at 6:46 PM
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