Ol'Harry

CHUCKS I'VE KNOWN

My wife and I have been blessed with good neighbors.  As the years turned, I intended to write about two of them.  Both had morphed from good neighbors to good friends.  Both were sailors of Korean War vintage.  Both were named Charles.  Both were known by everyone as “Chuck.”

I am sorry to report, both are being written about in the past tense.

NAVY SEABEE -- CHUCK LEIPHAM

Chuck Leipham, the Seabee, lived 177 feet across the street from our front door.  Chuck Kasai, the Corpsman, lived 210 feet around the corner from our front door.  No, we don’t feel cramped at all – our prior home was a 35’ motor home. 

CHUCK & GLORIA LEIPHAM

The two Chucks were perfect neighbors.  The Seabee was a master carpenter.  Among other things, he walked me through the installation of a life-saving stairway rail.  The Corpsman was a retired IBM engineer.  He coached me in keeping our amps, ohms, pixels, and bytes going in the right direction.

NAVY CORPSMAN -- CHUCK KASAI

Leipham and Kasai had similarities beyond their names.  Both were Northerners.  Both re- retired to Greensboro because they had a daughter who lived here.  Leipham has another daughter who lives in New York – Kasai has a son who lives in Raleigh.  Jane and Chuck, Gloria and Chuck -- childhood sweethearts -- had been married for a cumulative 124 years.

CHUCK & JANE KASAI

The two sailors and I did not talk a lot about military service, although the three of us hit many of the same ports around the world.  Leipham much preferred to talk about his two grand-sons and what talented prodigies they were.  Kasai’s Navy stories were usually centered around his Navy grandson, a senior chief petty officer of the submarine force.  “He’s the real sailor in our family,” the grandfather insisted.

While I missed a lot about how they had lived on this earth for over eight decades, I was more privy to their eleventh hour feelings about how they would leave this earth.  Facing end of life issues, both men were brave, analytical and fiercely independent.  Neither intended to be a family burden – but neither wanted to spend their last days belted in a nursing home wheelchair lane.

During these times a friend loaned us her copy of “Being Mortal,” by Dr. Atul Gawandi, Medicine and What Matters at the End.  It read like Dr. Gawandi had been inside the minds of Chuck Leipham and Chuck Kasai – or vice versa.

The good doctor marveled at the medical paradigms available to stave off death for the terminally ill, such as $12,000 per month chemotherapy, $4,000 per day intensive care, ventilators, defibrillators, and thousands of dollars in endless surgeries – often with unintended circumstances. 

From a perspective he did not learn in medical school, the doctor writes that some terminally ill patients might have lived better, and possibly longer, had they opted for more conservative care.  That is not a new perspective – hind sight remains 20/20.

Since our neighbors were blessed with excellent insurance and full VA benefits, financial ramifications were not significant.  Neither were medical wonders that might stave off death. 

Leipham realized he had passed the point of too many damaged joints and failed organs.  Kasai realized cancer had raged in vital organs too long and too far.  They spoke with authority that their bodies were wearing out and concurred with Dr. Gawandi, “Aging isn’t an appealing prospect.”

The doctor, Leipham, Kasai and I all went to different churches.  They did not hear our pastor proclaim, “God realizes the aging process that takes our bodies away doesn’t have a lot of appeal, but can be fixed in one heartbeat.” 

       

Secure in their faith, my two friends chose to let God have His way.  Obliging and loving families, caring doctors, and Hospice helped ease the process.  Both men were ever so grateful for the small amount of autonomy that existed into their last days – remember, they were “fiercely independent.” 

Dr. Gawandi admits he doesn’t have all the answers, as evidenced by the case study of his own father, also a doctor, during his last days.  He is even quicker to admit that his profession has a lot to learn when it comes to counseling and treating patients at the end of their lives.

My wife and I thoroughly enjoyed “Being Mortal.”  The book changed our thinking on some issues and led us to tweak a few of our plans.  A chapter on my two friends called Chuck would have made his book even better. 

Charles T. (Chuck) Leipham passed away March 18, 2016 – he was 83.  Charles (Chuck) Frank Kasai passed away November 3, 2016 – he was 84.