Remembering Jeanie - A Life Lived 1957 to 2003

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Mom’s was the original name of Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, Tootsie Bess bought Mom’s in 1960.
She credits a painter with naming Tootsie’s. She came in one day to find that he had painted her place orchid…thus the name Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge.
She was a singer/comedienne with “Big Jeff & The Radio Playboys”. Jeff Bess was the bandleader and Tootsie’s husband.
She recorded, “My Little Red Wagon” and “Tootsie’s Wall of Fame”
Records recorded about Tootsie’s include “The Wettest Shoulders in Town” and “What’s Tootsies Gonna Do When They Tear the Ryman Down?”
Charlie Pride gave her the jeweled hatpin that she used to stick unruly patrons.
It is rumored that Roger Miller wrote “Dang Me” in Tootsies.
Famous early customers were Kris Kristofferson, Faron Young, Willie Nelson, Tom T. Hall, Hank Cochran, Mel Tillis, Roger Miller, Webb Pierce, Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline and many more.
Movies filmed at Tootsie’s include “W.W. & the Dixie Dance Kings” starring Bert Reynolds, “Coal Miner’s Daughter” about Loretta Lynn and starring Sissy Spacek, and “The Nashville Rebel” starring Tex Ritter, Porter Wagoner, Faron Young, Loretta Lynn, The Wilburn Brothers, and Waylon Jennings.
A segment of the Dean Martin summer show was filmed at Tootsie’s.
TNN (The Nashville Network) did a 30-minute show about Tootsie’s, produced by Gus Barba.
Esquire and Penthouse magazines did articles about Tootsie’s.
Willie Nelson got his first songwriting job after singing at Tootsie’s.
The photo and memorabilia lined walls are called the “Wall of Fame”.
Tootsie was known to slip $5s and $10s into the pockets of luckless writers and pickers.
It was said that she had a cigar box behind the counter full of IOU’s from where she had given drinks and food to hungry pickers and writers. Supposedly, at each years end, a bunch of Opry Performers would take all the IOUs and pay Tootsie so she wouldn’t lose the money.
At her funeral were Tom T. Hall, Roy Acuff and Faron Young. She was buried in an orchid gown, with an orchid placed in the orchid-colored casket, so she could take her favorite flower with her to heaven. Connie Smith sang some of Tootsie’s favorite hymns at the funeral.

"One Last Breath"

Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me
For you and me

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

[img[http://www.qualityoflifecare.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/edgar-allan-poe.jpg]]

Hear the poem here: http://odeo.com/episodes/23255967-Poem-of-the-Week-Annabel-Lee


From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Annabel Lee
Publication date 	1849

"Annabel Lee" is the last complete poem composed by American author Edgar Allan Poe. Like many of Poe's poems, it explores the theme of the death of a beautiful woman. The narrator, who fell in love with Annabel Lee when they were young, has a love for her so strong that even angels are jealous. He retains his love for her even after her death. There has been debate over who, if anyone, was the inspiration for "Annabel Lee." Though many women have been suggested, Poe's wife Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe is one of the more credible candidates. Written in 1849, it was not published until shortly after Poe's death that same year.

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Annabel Lee
  	
  	It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe

[img[http://www.magickmermaid.com/scan086.jpg]]

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it ok
There's always some reason to feel â€œnot good enoughâ€?
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction, oh beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
They may be empty and weightless, and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of an Angel, fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

In the arms of an Angel, far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

The music video follows:

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He was Jeanie's third and last husband.  He was a biker. He had been married to Jeanie's sister Sherry, until Jeanie stole him away.   About a year later, Jeanie split from him.  He committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.

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[[Jeanine Marie Roy]]
[[Donna Roy]]
[[Denise Johnson- -Roy]]
[[Karen Dutcher- -Roy]]
[[Sherri Russell- -Roy]]
[[Frank Roy]]
[[Debbie Stanley- -Roy]]
[[Bill Russell]]
[[Lincoln Plowman]]
[[Mark Rutter]]
[[Terry Cress]]
[[Judge Baker]]
[[Adrian Gonzales]]
[[Louis]]
[[Beth White]]
[[Jack Cottey]]
[[Scott Newman]]
[[Judge Goodman]]
[[Judy Spray]]
[[Sara Lynn Carson]]

[[Introduction]]


[[Slide Show]]


[[Annabel Lee]]

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/denisejohnsonsmall.jpg]]

Denise Johnson, Jeanie's youngest sister. She was about eight years younger than Jeanie. She was married to a young man about 10 years her junior.  She was an alcoholic who had been married before. 

She could not have children.  

She is the kind of drunk who cries in her beer. She would call Jeanie late at night, when she was drunk, even when Jeanie did not even know what was going on and cry to her about how awful things were for her.

Denise did not want her to have treatment, but said that she could not handle taking care of Jeanie. Denise is the one who put Jeanie in the nursing home by making up a story that Jeanie was eating and drinking off the floor after crapping and wetting her pants.  Later I learned that Denise thought that Jeanie had a big Social Security check coming.  Denise thought she would get the big check and a check every month while Jeanie was in the nursing home.  

Jeanie did not qualify for SSD.  She only got the welfare benefits of SSI. There was no back check. There was not much at all.  When Jeanie got admitted to the nursing home, all of the SSI benefits went to pay her bill there automatically.

Jeanie died six weeks after getting the first and only check.


Denise's claim to fame was that she sued a Japanese company for real or imagined sexual harassment, and won a big settlement.

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/donnaroy.jpg]]

Donna Roy

Jeanie's Cousin

<html><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/T_AtnR55ryuOVmidut_OSA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_fwukQ1dvAw8/R9TPzo-pdWI/AAAAAAAAC88/cGtMfrh2flc/s144/crosstear.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy?feat=embedwebsite">Jeanie Roy</a></td></tr></table></html>


I wear one of these crosses.  Jeanie use to have a matching one.

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/frankroya]]

Frank Roy, Jeanie's Father.

Frank Roy is/was a mean man.  He was not very well thought of by those who knew him. An acquaintance of his, who had some bitter dealings, once said; "When they bury Frank Roy, they better turn his body face down toward Hell, 'cause I am going to be there as much as I can pissing on his grave."

He was anti-med and anti-treatment.  He didn't want to tell Jeanie how sick she was and tried to block her from having treatment.

He made fun of people with diabetes as being weak willed.

He later developed a brain tumor and diabetes.  Last I heard, he was getting all available treatment. It is unknown if Joe Blow is going by the graveyard everynight and pissing on Frank's head.

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Glioblastoma multiforme (GBM) is the most common and aggressive type of primary brain tumor, accounting for 52% of all primary brain tumor cases and 20% of all intracranial tumors. Despite being the most prevalent form of primary brain tumor, GBMs occur in only 2-3 cases per 100,000 people in Europe and North America.

Treatment can involve chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and surgery, all of which are acknowledged as palliative measures, meaning that they do not provide a cure. Even with complete surgical resection of the tumor, combined with the best available treatment, the survival rate for GBM remains very low. However, many advances in microsurgery techniques, radiotherapy and chemotherapy are slowly increasing the survival time of patients diagnosed with glioblastoma.

Causes

GBM is more common in males, although the reason for this is not clear [2]. Most glioblastoma tumors appear to be sporadic, without any genetic predisposition. No links have been found between glioblastoma and smoking[3], diet[4], cellular phones[5], electromagnetic fields[6], or viral infection[7]. There appears to be a small link between ionizing radiation and glioblastoma[8].

Pathogenesis

Glioblastomas multiforme are characterized by the presence of small areas of necrotizing tissue that is surrounded by highly-anaplastic cells (pseudopalisading necrosis). This characteristic, as well as the presence of hyperplastic blood vessels, differentiates the tumor from Grade 3 astrocytomas, which do not have these features. Although glioblastoma multiforme can be formed from lower-grade astrocytomas, post-mortem autopsies have revealed that most glioblastomas multiforme are not caused by previous lesions in the brain.

Unlike oligodendrogliomas, glioblastomas multiforme can form in either the gray matter or the white matter of the brain; but most GBM arises from the deep white matter and quickly infiltrate the brain, often becoming very large before producing symptoms. The tumor may extend to the meningeal or ventricular wall, leading to the high protein content of cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) (> 100 mg/dL), as well as an occasional pleocytosis of 10 to 100 cells, mostly lymphocytes. Malignant cells carried in the CSF may spread to the spinal cord or cause meningeal gliomatosis. However, metastasis of GBM beyond the central nervous system is extremely rare. About 50% of GBM occupy more than one lobe of a hemisphere or are bilateral. Tumors of this type usually arise from the cerebrum and may exhibit the classic infiltrate across the corpus callosum, producing a butterfly (bilateral) glioma.

The tumor may take on a variety of appearances, depending on the amount of hemorrhage, necrosis, or its age. A CT scan will usually show a nonhomogeneous mass with a hypointense center and a variable ring of enhancement surrounded by edema. Part of a lateral ventricle is usually deformed, and both lateral and third ventricles may be displaced.

Symptoms

Although common symptoms of the disease include seizure, nausea and vomiting, headache, and hemiparesis, the single most prevalent symptom is a progressive memory, personality, or neurological deficit due to temporal and frontal lobe involvement. The kind of symptoms produced depends highly on the location of the tumor, more so than on its pathological properties. The tumor can start producing symptoms quickly, but occasionally is asymptomatic until it reaches an enormous size. See Symptoms section in:

Diagnosis

In early stages, when viewed with MRI, glioblastoma may mimic more benign brain lesions[9]. Diagnosis of a suspected GBM on CT or MRI should rest on a stereotactic biopsy or by a craniotomy, which can, at the same time, remove as much tumor as possible. Although the entire tumor can never be removed, in theory due to its multicentricity and diffuse character, partial resection ("debulking") can still prolong survival slightly.

Treatment

It is very difficult to treat glioblastoma due to several complicating factors:[10]

* The tumor cells are very resistant to chemotherapy and other conventional therapies
* The brain is susceptible to damage due to therapy
* The brain has a very limited capacity to repair itself
* Many drugs cannot cross the blood brain barrier to act on the tumor

Treatment of primary brain tumors and brain metastases consists of both symptomatic and palliative therapies.

Symptomatic therapy

Supportive treatment focuses on relieving symptoms and improving the patient’s neurologic function. The primary supportive agents are anticonvulsants and corticosteroids.

* Historically, around ninety percent of patients with glioblastoma underwent anticonvulsant treatment, although is has been estimated that only approximately 40% of patients required this treatment. Recently, it has not been recommended that neurosurgeons administer anticonvulsants prophylactically, and should wait until a seizure occurs before prescribing this medication[11]. Those receiving phenytoin concurrent with radiation may have serious skin reactions such as erythema multiforme and Stevens-Johnson syndrome.

* Corticosteroids, usually dexamethasone given 4 to 10 mg every 4 to 6 h, can reduce peritumoral edema (through rearrangement of the blood-brain barrier), diminishing mass effect and lowering intracranial pressure, with a decrease in headache or drowsiness.

Palliative therapy

Palliative treatment usually is conducted to improve quality of life and to achieve a longer survival time. It includes surgery, radiation therapy, and chemotherapy. A maximally feasible resection with maximal tumor-free margins ("debulking") is usually performed along with external beam radiation and chemotherapy.

Surgery

Surgery is the first stage of treatment of glioblastoma. An average GBM tumor contains 1011 cells, which is on average reduced to 109 cells after surgery. It is used to take a section for diagnosis, to remove some of the symptoms of a large mass pressing against the brain, to remove disease before secondary resistance to radiotherapy and chemotherapy, and to prolong survival.

The greater the extent of tumor removal, the longer the survival time. Removal of 98% or more of the tumor has been associated with a significantly longer median survival time than if less than 98% of the tumor is removed[12]. The chances of near-complete initial removal of the tumor can be greatly increased if the surgery is guided by a fluorescent dye known as 5-aminolevulinic acid[13].

Radiotherapy

On average, radiotherapy after surgery can reduce the tumor size to 107 cells. Whole brain radiotherapy does not improve survival when compared to the more precise and targeted three-dimensional conformal radiotherapy[14]. A total radiation dose of 60-65 Gy has been found to be optimal for treatment [15].

Chemotherapy

The standard of care for glioblastoma includes chemotherapy during and after radiotherapy. On average, chemotherapy after surgery and radiotherapy can initially reduce the tumor size to 106 cells. The use of temozolomide both during radiotherapy and for six months post radiotherapy results in a significant increase in median survival with minimal additional toxicity[16]. This treatment regime is now standard for most cases of glioblastoma where the patient is not enrolled in a clinical trial[17][18].

http://www.bobcardwell.com/serenity.html

Have you ever been convicted of a crime?

As a part of the application process for employment, I am frequently asked if I have a criminal history. I have to answer yes, but usually the space for the explanation is so short I get the impression that most reviewers don't read past an answer of "yes." I have learned from years of working in the criminal justice system that most of the general public assumes those found guilty are guilty and that all of the accused and convicted protest their innocence. It is a belief system that is hard to fight. I will try to go light on my "protest of innocence" as it is a bit of a Catch-22. The more adamantly I proclaim my innocence, the more firm the listener assumes my guilt.

I was an expert [listen to a radio interview here: http://www.bobcardwell.com/bcdv.mp3] on domestic violence and anger control. I worked as a social worker/consultant in the jail and in the criminal/justice system for over ten years. I handled hundreds of cases very similar to mine. I now wonder how many of my cases were wrongful or confused actions brought by the state. The fact is that I was more severely punished than 99% of these cases and the punishment continues even years after the alleged offense.

Eight years has passed since my arrest for Battery. Yes, I was convicted of misdemeanor battery. Please read the preceding link to understand the legal definition of that term and then read the transcript. I was innocent. But I will not try to argue my side too much. If you have read this far, perhaps you will look at the totality of the facts. If after reading this and you still assume me guilty, then please ask yourself what is enough punishment? I ask for your pardon in applying for this job.

This conviction involved an altercation with myself and my girlfriend, Jeanie. We met in 1998. I was arrested early in 2000, after having an argument with Jeanie. She was intoxicated. We argued. I left. She continued drinking with her friends. About two to three hours later, at about 4 AM, I was in a deep sleep when Jeanie called me and said she was sorry and was coming over. About ten minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. I opened it expecting Jeanie, but it was the police. They barged in the house and started searching my apartment and never once told me what was going on. They took me out to the police car, handcuffed me, and on the drive to the jail, they said I was arrested for battery. I was shocked and was confused as I did not believe that I was involved in anything which would lead to my arrest.

Later, I learned that Jeanie and her friends continued partying and later called the police. They told the police that I had been stalking Jeanie and that we had broken up months before. The police report said that I was hiding out in the bushes and after Jeanie had a party that I had barged in, argued with her, choked her til she passed out, and then hit her date. This was not true. Please read the attached court transcript here: http://www.bobcardwell.com/courttranscriptweb.pdf. It is almost all right, except for the fact one person testified I choked Jeanie, and of course, I disagree with the conclusion of guilt by the judge. After reading the police report, I understood why the police were so rude and mean to me. I have the tape of this 911 call and the police report which I hope to post here later.

Now here are some facts I did not know at the time of the trial. Jeanie suffered from a GBM brain tumor [read more 1 2]. She is now deceased. I provided round the clock care for her the last six months of her life. She told me many times on how sorry she was for the charge and conviction, but she said she was afraid of going to jail if she told the truth at court. We suffered immensely because we did not have health care or a job. I filed for bankruptcy and she signed up for Social Security Disability.

One memorable day, I had someone come and babysit Jeanie while I went and applied for a job as a substitute school teacher. During the interview, I was asked about my conviction. The interviewer told me that she could not possibly give me a job as I had been convicted of a "crime against humanity."

I still remember Jeanie sobbing and crying when I went home that day and told her of the results of the job interview. [Read the story about this: [[Without Words]] ]

She died March 29, 2003, after being in a nursing home for six weeks. See obituary here:http://www.bobcardwell.com/jeanieob.htm.

Aeschylus on the getting of wisdom

"He who learns must suffer..."


I often think, perhaps even daily, what is I suppose to learn from this death and the suffering? What wisdom am I suppose to take away from this? After five years, I still have not found a conclusive answer to these questions.

If I am to learn to be more humble...I have. If I am to learn to make sense of this pain and suffering, I have not.

Sometimes I look back on Jeanie's death and I wonder if the only point to me meeting her was to make sure she was baptized before she died.  Was this God's purpose for me? Maybe....the value of a soul is incomprehensible.

I Will Remember You 

(by Sarah McLachlan, Seamus Egan, and Dave Merenda)

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so tired but I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard 

But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Weep not for the memories

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smilin’ in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I’m so tired but I can’t sleep
Standin’ on the edge of something much too deep
It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can’t be heard

But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I’m so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn’t let me choose
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

The music video follows.



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Jeanine Marie Roy was born in 1957 and died in 2003 of GBM Brain Cancer  (see [[brain tumor]]).
Jeanie was my girlfriend.  We met in the late summer of 1998. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor in June of 2002. She died on March 29, 2003.  She was cremated following a memorial service on April Fool's Day, 2003.

My goal is to write and write about this story until I wear it out.  Maybe then it will fall in ashes at my feet and I can walk across the dust to the path to another life. This story takes too much of my time and is too much in the center of my life.


Aeschylus on the getting of wisdom

He who learns must suffer
And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,
And in our own despair, against our will,
Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon, line 179ff.
(as misquoted/paraphrased by Robert F. Kennedy upon the assassination of Martin Luther King, , and then also inscribed on RFK's grave)



[>img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/cremation.jpg]]

[img[http://www2.indystar.com/library/factfiles/people/c/cottey_jack/cottey.jpg]]

Jeanie of Madison Avenue

On Madison Avenue. This is where my life with Jeanie began and ended.

Madison Ave. has a romantic sound to it. It brings visions of glamour and money. Well this tale has neither. This is a story of poor people and how they got poorer, while following a trail of tragedy.

I met Jeanie in the late Summer of 1998. My wife had left me in the Summer of 1997. My divorce had devastated me and left me drifting, alone, unsure, and in misery.

I worked all day. I spent the evenings going to the gym and working out until it closed. I then went to the bars. I just hated going to a quiet and empty house. For most of my life I had been around kids and the ever present noises of a family.

Well late one night on one of my forees I met Jeanie. I stopped by a bar called the Mark on Madison Ave. It was about midnight.

I was pumped up from being at the gym for hours. I was thirsty and dehydrated. I drank at the bar. I stood next to the stool. I had a tank top on with tight jeans and construction boots. I had a leather billed baseball cap on.

At the other end of the bar, I noticed a dark haired women. I remember thinking she looked tired and thought she was a suburban housewife. She was drinking Bud Lite alone.

By this time after the divorce, I had went through several relationships with good and attractive women. I had the arrogance of the divorcee who had been hurt and was busy going about wrecking my wrath of despair on every woman I could. I always found it odd how women seemed to be attracted to this vengeful arrogance.

I would learn that Jeanie was more than I bargained for and more than I could handled.

I felt flush with cash and nothing to spend it on. I didn't have two little boys anymore. I didn't have a new home anymore. I didn't have a new car anymore. I made good money during the day and was respected in my profession. My side business was as a consultant and I made up to $2200 per day and I only worked at this one to three days per month.

I puffed my self up, drank, and caroused with the other bar patrons as Jeanie took a bar stool close to me. We started out making small talk. We rambled more and more. The only thing I really remember us talking about was going on trips and traveling. I remember there was one thing she said which has always stood out in my mind.

While we were talking about traveling and good times, she told me her two favorite things to do was "fishing and fucking." I guess it made an impression on me. I reckon she wanted to impress on me that she was a country girl.

The bar was laid out like a disco bar. It had a dance floor, a deejay, tables, a bar, and pool tables. The deejay played a variety of music.
They played a country song Jeanie really liked and she asked me to dance. I was very unfamiliar with popular country music then. Nevertheless, I had a buzz, so I got up to dance with her. It was a slow country song.

Jeanie was about 5' 7". She was slender with black hair. She had green eyes. She was dressed in slim blue jeans, a long sleeve blue jean shirt, and black tennis shoes. I leaned later this was her waitress uniform and she had stopped in for a drink after working.

We walked to the dance floor and I thought about getting lucky that night.

Regardless of desire and premonitions, we first embraced with awkwardness that I guess is attendant to such circumstances. I held her right hand out and high at about shoulder level. My left arm and hand went around her slender waist and rested on the small of her back.

I felt the small of her back, just about her belt line, and I felt a electric rush I have never felt before or since. Is there was such a thing as love, or lust, at first touch? That could be the only label I could put on my emotion. How could I absorbed so much sexual energy and power in such a simple touch? It was like I was touching the center of her being; wrapped and contained in the lower spine and the muscles of her back. I don't know. But it was there. And I still remember it so well and with much yearning these many years later.

We went back to the bar. We drank, talked, and danced till the bar closed. I had given her my phone number at the bar. As we were leaving I asked her if she would like to go with me and she said no, but she promised to call me.

In those days, it was not uncommon, for me to meet a girl in a bar and go through such playful flirtations. Either they went with you to the motel or they didn't. If they did or didn't I would forget them same the day after tomorrow. It was the crash and bang lifestyle my anger inside wanted. I never expected Jeanie to call.

Two or three weeks later I received a phone call. I was at work and it was in the middle of the day. It was in the middle of September and I was walking on the sidewalk leading to my office at the Marion County Jail.

When I answered the phone, I did not know who she was. She kidded me that I didn't remember her and I lied and said I did. After a few moments of talking, it did come to me who she was. I asked her if she wanted to go out that night and she said okay. We made arrangements to talk in the early evening.

We talked later and made a date to go out to the Planet Hollywood. I found out she only lived about a mile from me at an apartment.

When I picked her up, she was dressed in a blue jean long sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. She had on a small leather Harley-Davidson vest with a pewter HD medal of honor. We both talked nervously with her room mate for a bit and left for downtown.

We went to the restaurant. It was a slow night for them. I remember Jeanie talking about the travails of being a waitress on such a night. After some consultation with Jeanie about the types of food on the menu, I settled on giant prongs. I forgot what she got, but she did share my food. She identified the taste of cilantro. I had never known the name of this taste, but now, and for evermore, I will always associate the taste of cilantro with Jeanie. She would teach me much about food, spices, and the joy of life in the months ahead. She would also help me label it.

Next we went to the Circle Centre to a dance club. I remember Jeanie getting up once to dance to an old disco song in her country western bike garb. She danced "boot scootin' boogie" while everyone else danced a updated version of the "hustle."

We left and went home together that night. We stayed in passion and in each other arms for months. We fit together with pleasure.

I have always heard people talk about getting in a relationship and that the right way was slowly and with forethought. For me, I have never been in a relationship that was enduring which did not start with a bang. We were together the first date and never have been far a part since. This is true even now after her death. If the magic is there, it is there on the first night as well as your last night on earth. Magic is not of this earth and does not conform to the frivolities of man.

[img[http://bp1.blogger.com/_fwukQ1dvAw8/RxpEDAeFRKI/AAAAAAAABqM/H12LvhroqYY/s200/jeanieportaitwateroil.jpg]]

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/taylorbaker.jpg]]


read some comments about Judge Taylor Baker here: http://www.bobcardwell.com/judgebaker.pdf

[img[http://www.indy.gov/eGov/Courts/PublishingImages/Judicial%20Officers/goodman.jpg]]

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/karendutcher]]

Karen Dutcher, is Jeanie's oldest sister.  She resides in Texas with her husband and two grown children. Jeanie had lived with her from the mid-80's to the mid-90's, in San Antonio.

Karen is agoraphobic and likes to drink Jim Beam and Coke everyday as she passes the time watching games shows.

<html><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/X-CtbfP2MZhMzI29eg0SKw?authkey=Gv1sRgCJfpntm3gqCm5AE&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_fwukQ1dvAw8/SuSTigJJkdI/AAAAAAAAGY0/-k4S34lUmJU/s800/Karen%20Dutcher.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/DropBox?authkey=Gv1sRgCJfpntm3gqCm5AE&feat=embedwebsite">Drop Box</a></td></tr></table></html>

[img[http://www.indy.gov/eGov/Council/PublishingImages/2008Plowman.jpg]]

Lincoln Plowman

He is a ~City-County Councilor and a high ranking police officer.  He owns a private security firm and works as a body guard. He volunteered to go be a private contractor in Iraq, but didn't go.

[img[http://img107.mytextgraphics.com/photolava/2007/11/15/lincolnninja-f91m8fi7.jpg]]

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http://www.flickr.com/photos/bbbob/sets/72157601420707684/show/

I have loss so much in my life. Much of it centered around Jeanie and of course includes her death.

Ten years after meeting Jeanie, I make about half as much in income as I did at our meeting.  I make about the same as I did twenty years ago.  I have loss immensely in the standard of living.

Again if grief spurns us to wisdom, what have I learned from this loss? I have learned to endure suffering. I have learned to accept an lower opinion of me from others. I have learned to isolate myself. I have yet to learn how to move pass these obstacles.

[[Slide Show]]

[[READY FOR JESUS]]  	

[[Arms of an Angel]]

[[I will remember you]]

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My Immortal lyrics

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

[Chorus:]
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

[Chorus]

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

[img[http://www.theprintersalley.com/picts/alley22.jpg]]

HISTORY OF PRINTER'S ALLEY
Printer's Alley takes its name from its early connection with Nashville's printing and publishing industry, then located in the immediate area. The alley also became the center of the city's nightlife and serviced the hotels, restaurants, and saloons fronting on Fourth Avenue, which was known as the Men's Quarter in the late nineteenth century.
Nightclubs opened here in the 1940s, and the alley became a showcase for the talents of performers such as Boots Randolph, Chet Atkins, Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams, and Dottie West. This historic district's architecture includes elegant late Victorian styles, Nashville's first automobile parking garage, and the city's first "skyscraper."
Although the Printers have long since gone, The World Famous Printers Alley still remains, providing a Flair of Bourbon Street . Located between Third and Fourth Avenues stretching from Union to Church Streets, the Alley started before the turn of the century as the location of many of Nashville's first Publishing and Printing Companies.
Without the Country Musical influences, Nashville could have possibly been known as the Printing Capitol of the World. As late as the 1960's, Nashville was home to over 36 Printing Companies and many other numerous Businesses, whose roles were to support and supply the massive industry.

In the late 1800's Printers Alley was a part of "The Men's District". Many Cafes, Saloons, Gambling Halls and Speakeasies sprang up to cater to the men of Nashville's Print shops, Judges, Lawyers, Politicians and other Nashville Elite were also known to frequent the Alley. At the turn of the Centure, the Climax Club of Printer's Alley was nationally known as Nashville's Premier Entertainment spot.
Printers Alley was Nashville's dirty little secret. It didn't matter what you were looking for, you could find it there. Nashville's Politicians and Police protected the Alley even after the sale of Liquor was outlawed in 1909.
Hilary House, elected Mayor at the time was quoted by reporters at the time as saying, "Protect them? I do better than that, I patronize them" He was Mayor for 21 of the 30 years that the sale of intoxicants were illegal. In 1939, Nashville repealed prohibition and made it legal to buy liquor in stores. For the next 30 years The Alley flourished as the Mixing Bar came into existence.
Although Liquor was legal, you could not buy it by the drink. Advertisements for the Clubs in the 1960's stated "Bring Your Own Bottle" and they would then mix your drink for you. People would bring their choice of beverage tightly wrapped in a brown paper bag and leave it in a locker or on a shelf behind the bar of their favorite haunt. Written on those bottles were the names of Nashville's movers and shakers of the day.

The history of Printer's Alley can not go on without mentioning the Rainbow Room owned and operated by one of the true stars in Printer's Alley, David "Skull" Schullman.
Skull was so beloved by his fellow Nashvillians that the Nashville City council unanimously adopted a resolution declaring him as "The Mayor Printer's Alley."
Originally, the club was an exotic dance club. What set Skull's club apart from it's neighbor, "The Black Poodle," was that he had a live band performing the music for the dancers. It was the only club in Nashville to do that.
In the 1990's, Skull converted the club to a county bar. He was friends with Buck Owens and Roy Clark and appeared many times in the "Corn Field" portion of the famous "Hee Haw" television series.
While working alone in his club late one night as he often did, he was attacked by two assailants and brutally murdered. His killers were later caught but the club never reopened. New code's requirements make it doubtful that it ever will.
Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar rented the space for storage for awhile but eventually gave it up because none of their employees wanted to go in there... especially after dark. They all swore that they saw a shape like Skull walking around in his club and from time to time would hear his voice calling out to them.

READY FOR JESUS

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/baptismsketch.jpg]]

"Ready for Jesus", says Jeanie.

Jeanie had gone to her father's church and asked to be baptized. Though it was a Baptist Church, they were not too friendly to her regarding baptism. She had never been to church much before she got sick. The pastor wanted her to jump through a bunch of hoops to prove that she was worthy. The tumor was so fast growing that Jeanie did not have the time for this contrition.

Jeanie was admitted to the hospital within a few days. I called a friend who is a Chaplain. After some discussion of Jeanie and the circumstances, Chaplain Ladd agreed to meet me at the hospital and baptize Jeanie.

Shortly after Jeanie was admitted to the hospital, I bought her a big study Bible and started the process to have her baptized at the hospital. I had to get permission from the hospital and Jeanie's attending physician. The hospital wanted to approve only a "sprinkle" baptism, performed at the hospital bed. Chaplain Ladd insisted that he could only follow his belief and practice with a total immersion baptism. After several phone calls and discussion, the hospital finally agreed. Jeanie was to be totally immersed in a hospital tub, while medical staff watched over her.

I visited Jeanie a few times before her emergency surgery. At the time, she, nor I, knew how sick she was. While visiting one day, Jeanie and I discussed religion. We discussed what being "saved"meant and the Christian plan for salvation. A nurse came in the room and started doing some work behind a privacy screen. I summed up saying that, "Being born again is like starting life all over again. It doesn't matter what you have done in the past. You are a new person."

The nurse came out from behind the screen sobbing. She had obviously heard our discussion and I was embarrassed. I know now that this nurse knew how sick Jeanie was and that her condition was hopeless.

I would not learn that Jeanie was dying till a few days after her surgery. Jeanie would not learn of her rapidly approaching death until a month later. I told her at a park, where I use to take my kids, while we had ice cream cones.

The next day after seeing the tearful nurse, I met Chaplain Ladd at Jeanie's bedside. He discussed the ritual of baptism and salvation with Jeanie. We had a prayer of repentance.

When I approached the nursing staff about the scheduled baptism, there was initially some confusion. Apparently, the plan had not been shared with the staff. There were some phone calls and discussion. The staff had to find a place with an appropriate tub to use. They finally found one on a different ward, which was used by the physical therapy department. Two black nurse's aids were assigned to help us out.

We dressed Jeanie in two generic hospital gowns. One was put on in the usual style and opened to the back. The other was put on to tie in the front, to insure some degree of privacy while we transversed the halls.

The tub room was cold in blue tile and steel handrails. Chaplain Ladd said the deep and old-fashioned tub was satisfactory. He filled the tub and checked periodically to make sure the temperature was just right as the two attendants stood holding Jeanie steady.

Chaplain Ladd got Jeanie in the tub. He instructed her to fold her arms across her chest. The two aids got ready with towels. He and Jeanie said a brief prayer. Chaplain Ladd recited a brief passage from the Bible and laid her back into the water.

Jeanie was immersed. As she rose up out of the water, the two black female workers broke out in the gospel song "Amazing Grace." Chaplain Ladd and I joined in. We were all baptized with tears by the end of the verse.

At the time, I didn't know how sick Jeanie was, nor that she would be left child-like and die so quickly.

Jeanie's impairment became quite obvious after her surgery. She was confused and delusional. She thought she was in the hospital to deliver her baby. She was not pregnant. Sadly, she would never experience the act of giving birth. Most of us, her friends and family, thought this irrational thinking would clear up. Jeanie kept the delusion of having a baby for nine months, until her death.

After being released from the hospital, Jeanie did get a little better, but she never improved to have the functioning ability above a four-year-old child.

I cared for Jeanie fulltime while she steadily declined to death. There were many days of doing nothing except watching TV and eating meals. A few times Jeanie would ask me questions that were difficult for me to answer. Once in the middle of the night she asked me if she should try chemotherapy since the surgery and radiation therapy had failed. I told her that we could talk to her doctor about it in a few weeks at her next appointment. She replied by asking, "Will I be alive then?" I answered honestly, and with a lump in my throat, " I don't know."

Other times we would play talk and act silly to one another. She would play word games like a child. One of the games we played was remembering people's names and the meaning of words. One word Jeanie could not remember was sanctified. I reminded her of being baptized quite frequently and explained what that meant. She could not understand. I would usually end up explaining and then sum up by saying, "It means you are ready for Jesus." Jeanie would repeat this several times in an excited child-like manner and it seemed to make her happy.

Just saying and repeating "ready for Jesus" seemed to bring her some peace and comfort.

Jeanie steadily declined in health and functioning. Just months before, she had been a witty, beautiful, and athletic woman. By the time she went to a nursing home, just shortly before her death, she had the mind of a child and the body of a ninety-year-old woman. Her face was round and distorted, her bones brittle, and her muscles wasted away. I remember her once looking in the mirror and crying about her appearance. These periods of despair were sparse and she was always the type to pick her spirits up and go on.

Jeanie's memorial services were on April 1, 2003, April Fools' Day. She was cremated at her request. Knowing Jeanie's personality, I am sure she has had a laugh over the date of her services. She had the most distinct laugh. It was loud, vibrant, and bawdy. I can still hear it deep in my head.

Every now and then I pause and think about Jeanie and her death. If the moment is quiet and I still my soul, I can still her say "ready for Jesus", and it brings me comfort too.

READY FOR JESUS

"Ready for Jesus", says Jeanie.

The next day after seeing the tearful nurse, I met Chaplain Ladd at Jeanie's bedside. He discussed the ritual of baptism and salvation with Jeanie. We had a prayer of repentance.

At the time, I didn't know how sick Jeanie was, nor that she would be left child-like and die so quickly.

After being released from the hospital, Jeanie did get a little better, but she never improved to have the functioning ability above a four-year-old child.

Just saying and repeating "ready for Jesus" seemed to bring her some peace and comfort.

Every now and then I pause and think about Jeanie and her death. If the moment is quiet and I still my soul, I can still her say "ready for Jesus", and it brings me comfort too.

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5171794311387752354"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/cardwell.bob/R8Xnhl2nJ6I/AAAAAAAAC34/P7cKuT4O6Zo/s400/radiation_small.jpg" /></a></html>


''Radiation is hell on a hairdo!''

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5124356456287913170"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/cardwell.bob/Rx1fDAeFRNI/AAAAAAAABsE/fH1lrnBezHc/s144/1110470142_f9dcefcbb4.jpg" /></a></html>

READY FOR JESUS

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/baptismsketch.jpg]]

"Ready for Jesus", says Jeanie.

Jeanie had gone to her father's church and asked to be baptized. Though it was a Baptist Church [the church website http://fmpbc.net/main.html], they were not too friendly to her regarding baptism. She had never been to church much before she got sick. The pastor wanted her to jump through a bunch of hoops to prove that she was worthy. The tumor was so fast growing that Jeanie did not have the time for this contrition.

The next day after seeing the tearful nurse, I met Chaplain Ladd at Jeanie's bedside. He discussed the ritual of baptism and salvation with Jeanie. We had a prayer of repentance.

At the time, I didn't know how sick Jeanie was, nor that she would be left child-like and die so quickly.

After being released from the hospital, Jeanie did get a little better, but she never improved to have the functioning ability above a four-year-old child.

Just saying and repeating "ready for Jesus" seemed to bring her some peace and comfort.

Every now and then I pause and think about Jeanie and her death. If the moment is quiet and I still my soul, I can still her say "ready for Jesus", and it brings me comfort too.

[img[http://rocksteadyboxing.org/db5/00422/rocksteadyboxing.org/_uimages/newman.jpg]]

[img[http://www.bobcardwell.com/sherryrussell]]

Sherri Russell is Jeanie's sister.  She is a polysubstance abuser and has the personality of a crack addict.  When she visited the apartment you had to constantly watch her as she would steal things to get drugs.  She would steal Jeanie's pain medication to get high.  

I learned after Jeanie died that this sister turned into a crack whore after her husband, Bill, divorced her. He divorced Sherri to marry Jeanie!!!

Jeanie moved with him to Illinois to a small town.  Things went well for a while. Jeanie hooked up with a rich farmer and left Bill Russell.  Jeanie claimed Bill Russell abused her and choked her in getting a restraining order against him. Bill Russell committed suicide by shooting himself in the head a short time later.

Sherri Russell remains a crack whore.

A Life Lived 1957 to 2003


<html><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fwukQ1dvAw8/RxpEDAeFRKI/AAAAAAAABqM/H12LvhroqYY/s400-h/jeanieportaitwateroil.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fwukQ1dvAw8/RxpEDAeFRKI/AAAAAAAABqM/H12LvhroqYY/s200/jeanieportaitwateroil.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123482344543831202" /></a></html>

Remembering Jeanie

<html><center><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="288" height="192" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fcardwell.bob%2Falbumid%2F5106906513650855457%3Fkind%3Dphoto%26alt%3Drss" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed></center></html>

1. Jeanie had been forced to get an abortion by her father.  It is unclear whether this was before or after the Roe v. Wade decision.  She had to go out of state.  The father was allegedly a black boy.

2. Jeanie's father moved all of the family to Brown County after he caught all of his daughters taking up with black boys at school [Manual High School].

3. Jeanie stole her sister's [Sherry] husband and married him.  She left him for another man and her sister's ex-husband committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.  

4. Jeanie's car was "wanted" by the bank for an unpaid loan.

5. Jeanie's sister, Denise, took Jeanie's engagement ring off her dead finger and sold it.

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| 04/04/2008 23:16:34 | bc | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 27/10/2008 14:28:23 | BC | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 27/10/2008 14:31:46 | BC | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 27/10/2008 14:52:08 | BC | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 29/10/2008 14:04:36 | BC | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 29/10/2008 14:27:07 | BC | [[/|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |
| 25/10/2009 13:35:13 | BC | [[jeanie.html|file:///E:/Bob%27s%20Wiki%20Pages/jeanie.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | failed |
| 25/10/2009 13:35:30 | BC | [[jeanie.html|file:///E:/Bob%27s%20Wiki%20Pages/jeanie.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 25/10/2009 13:37:57 | BC | [[jeanie.html|file:///E:/Bob%27s%20Wiki%20Pages/jeanie.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . | ok |
| 25/10/2009 14:34:27 | BC | [[jeanie.html|file:///E:/Bob%27s%20Wiki%20Pages/jeanie.html]] | [[store.cgi|http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi]] | . | [[index.html | http://jeanie.tiddlyspot.com/index.html]] | . |

/***
|''Name:''|PasswordOptionPlugin|
|''Description:''|Extends TiddlyWiki options with non encrypted password option.|
|''Version:''|1.0.2|
|''Date:''|Apr 19, 2007|
|''Source:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#PasswordOptionPlugin|
|''Author:''|BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info)|
|''License:''|[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D ]]|
|''~CoreVersion:''|2.2.0 (Beta 5)|
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.PasswordOptionPlugin = {
	major: 1, minor: 0, revision: 2, 
	date: new Date("Apr 19, 2007"),
	source: 'http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#PasswordOptionPlugin',
	author: 'BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info',
	license: '[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D]]',
	coreVersion: '2.2.0 (Beta 5)'
};

config.macros.option.passwordCheckboxLabel = "Save this password on this computer";
config.macros.option.passwordInputType = "password"; // password | text
setStylesheet(".pasOptionInput {width: 11em;}\n","passwordInputTypeStyle");

merge(config.macros.option.types, {
	'pas': {
		elementType: "input",
		valueField: "value",
		eventName: "onkeyup",
		className: "pasOptionInput",
		typeValue: config.macros.option.passwordInputType,
		create: function(place,type,opt,className,desc) {
			// password field
			config.macros.option.genericCreate(place,'pas',opt,className,desc);
			// checkbox linked with this password "save this password on this computer"
			config.macros.option.genericCreate(place,'chk','chk'+opt,className,desc);			
			// text savePasswordCheckboxLabel
			place.appendChild(document.createTextNode(config.macros.option.passwordCheckboxLabel));
		},
		onChange: config.macros.option.genericOnChange
	}
});

merge(config.optionHandlers['chk'], {
	get: function(name) {
		// is there an option linked with this chk ?
		var opt = name.substr(3);
		if (config.options[opt]) 
			saveOptionCookie(opt);
		return config.options[name] ? "true" : "false";
	}
});

merge(config.optionHandlers, {
	'pas': {
 		get: function(name) {
			if (config.options["chk"+name]) {
				return encodeCookie(config.options[name].toString());
			} else {
				return "";
			}
		},
		set: function(name,value) {config.options[name] = decodeCookie(value);}
	}
});

// need to reload options to load passwordOptions
loadOptionsCookie();

/*
if (!config.options['pasPassword'])
	config.options['pasPassword'] = '';

merge(config.optionsDesc,{
		pasPassword: "Test password"
	});
*/
//}}}

/***
|''Name:''|UploadPlugin|
|''Description:''|Save to web a TiddlyWiki|
|''Version:''|4.1.0|
|''Date:''|May 5, 2007|
|''Source:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPlugin|
|''Documentation:''|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPluginDoc|
|''Author:''|BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info)|
|''License:''|[[BSD open source license|http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#%5B%5BBSD%20open%20source%20license%5D%5D ]]|
|''~CoreVersion:''|2.2.0 (#3125)|
|''Requires:''|PasswordOptionPlugin|
***/
//{{{
version.extensions.UploadPlugin = {
	major: 4, minor: 1, revision: 0,
	date: new Date("May 5, 2007"),
	source: 'http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPlugin',
	author: 'BidiX (BidiX (at) bidix (dot) info',
	coreVersion: '2.2.0 (#3125)'
};

//
// Environment
//

if (!window.bidix) window.bidix = {}; // bidix namespace
bidix.debugMode = false;	// true to activate both in Plugin and UploadService
	
//
// Upload Macro
//

config.macros.upload = {
// default values
	defaultBackupDir: '',	//no backup
	defaultStoreScript: "store.php",
	defaultToFilename: "index.html",
	defaultUploadDir: ".",
	authenticateUser: true	// UploadService Authenticate User
};
	
config.macros.upload.label = {
	promptOption: "Save and Upload this TiddlyWiki with UploadOptions",
	promptParamMacro: "Save and Upload this TiddlyWiki in %0",
	saveLabel: "save to web", 
	saveToDisk: "save to disk",
	uploadLabel: "upload"	
};

config.macros.upload.messages = {
	noStoreUrl: "No store URL in parmeters or options",
	usernameOrPasswordMissing: "Username or password missing"
};

config.macros.upload.handler = function(place,macroName,params) {
	if (readOnly)
		return;
	var label;
	if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http") 
		label = this.label.saveLabel;
	else
		label = this.label.uploadLabel;
	var prompt;
	if (params[0]) {
		prompt = this.label.promptParamMacro.toString().format([this.destFile(params[0], 
			(params[1] ? params[1]:bidix.basename(window.location.toString())), params[3])]);
	} else {
		prompt = this.label.promptOption;
	}
	createTiddlyButton(place, label, prompt, function() {config.macros.upload.action(params);}, null, null, this.accessKey);
};

config.macros.upload.action = function(params)
{
		// for missing macro parameter set value from options
		var storeUrl = params[0] ? params[0] : config.options.txtUploadStoreUrl;
		var toFilename = params[1] ? params[1] : config.options.txtUploadFilename;
		var backupDir = params[2] ? params[2] : config.options.txtUploadBackupDir;
		var uploadDir = params[3] ? params[3] : config.options.txtUploadDir;
		var username = params[4] ? params[4] : config.options.txtUploadUserName;
		var password = config.options.pasUploadPassword; // for security reason no password as macro parameter	
		// for still missing parameter set default value
		if ((!storeUrl) && (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http")) 
			storeUrl = bidix.dirname(document.location.toString())+'/'+config.macros.upload.defaultStoreScript;
		if (storeUrl.substr(0,4) != "http")
			storeUrl = bidix.dirname(document.location.toString()) +'/'+ storeUrl;
		if (!toFilename)
			toFilename = bidix.basename(window.location.toString());
		if (!toFilename)
			toFilename = config.macros.upload.defaultToFilename;
		if (!uploadDir)
			uploadDir = config.macros.upload.defaultUploadDir;
		if (!backupDir)
			backupDir = config.macros.upload.defaultBackupDir;
		// report error if still missing
		if (!storeUrl) {
			alert(config.macros.upload.messages.noStoreUrl);
			clearMessage();
			return false;
		}
		if (config.macros.upload.authenticateUser && (!username || !password)) {
			alert(config.macros.upload.messages.usernameOrPasswordMissing);
			clearMessage();
			return false;
		}
		bidix.upload.uploadChanges(false,null,storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir, backupDir, username, password); 
		return false; 
};

config.macros.upload.destFile = function(storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir) 
{
	if (!storeUrl)
		return null;
		var dest = bidix.dirname(storeUrl);
		if (uploadDir && uploadDir != '.')
			dest = dest + '/' + uploadDir;
		dest = dest + '/' + toFilename;
	return dest;
};

//
// uploadOptions Macro
//

config.macros.uploadOptions = {
	handler: function(place,macroName,params) {
		var wizard = new Wizard();
		wizard.createWizard(place,this.wizardTitle);
		wizard.addStep(this.step1Title,this.step1Html);
		var markList = wizard.getElement("markList");
		var listWrapper = document.createElement("div");
		markList.parentNode.insertBefore(listWrapper,markList);
		wizard.setValue("listWrapper",listWrapper);
		this.refreshOptions(listWrapper,false);
		var uploadCaption;
		if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "http") 
			uploadCaption = config.macros.upload.label.saveLabel;
		else
			uploadCaption = config.macros.upload.label.uploadLabel;
		
		wizard.setButtons([
				{caption: uploadCaption, tooltip: config.macros.upload.label.promptOption, 
					onClick: config.macros.upload.action},
				{caption: this.cancelButton, tooltip: this.cancelButtonPrompt, onClick: this.onCancel}
				
			]);
	},
	refreshOptions: function(listWrapper) {
		var uploadOpts = [
			"txtUploadUserName",
			"pasUploadPassword",
			"txtUploadStoreUrl",
			"txtUploadDir",
			"txtUploadFilename",
			"txtUploadBackupDir",
			"chkUploadLog",
			"txtUploadLogMaxLine",
			]
		var opts = [];
		for(i=0; i<uploadOpts.length; i++) {
			var opt = {};
			opts.push()
			opt.option = "";
			n = uploadOpts[i];
			opt.name = n;
			opt.lowlight = !config.optionsDesc[n];
			opt.description = opt.lowlight ? this.unknownDescription : config.optionsDesc[n];
			opts.push(opt);
		}
		var listview = ListView.create(listWrapper,opts,this.listViewTemplate);
		for(n=0; n<opts.length; n++) {
			var type = opts[n].name.substr(0,3);
			var h = config.macros.option.types[type];
			if (h && h.create) {
				h.create(opts[n].colElements['option'],type,opts[n].name,opts[n].name,"no");
			}
		}
		
	},
	onCancel: function(e)
	{
		backstage.switchTab(null);
		return false;
	},
	
	wizardTitle: "Upload with options",
	step1Title: "These options are saved in cookies in your browser",
	step1Html: "<input type='hidden' name='markList'></input><br>",
	cancelButton: "Cancel",
	cancelButtonPrompt: "Cancel prompt",
	listViewTemplate: {
		columns: [
			{name: 'Description', field: 'description', title: "Description", type: 'WikiText'},
			{name: 'Option', field: 'option', title: "Option", type: 'String'},
			{name: 'Name', field: 'name', title: "Name", type: 'String'}
			],
		rowClasses: [
			{className: 'lowlight', field: 'lowlight'} 
			]}
}

//
// upload functions
//

if (!bidix.upload) bidix.upload = {};

if (!bidix.upload.messages) bidix.upload.messages = {
	//from saving
	invalidFileError: "The original file '%0' does not appear to be a valid TiddlyWiki",
	backupSaved: "Backup saved",
	backupFailed: "Failed to upload backup file",
	rssSaved: "RSS feed uploaded",
	rssFailed: "Failed to upload RSS feed file",
	emptySaved: "Empty template uploaded",
	emptyFailed: "Failed to upload empty template file",
	mainSaved: "Main TiddlyWiki file uploaded",
	mainFailed: "Failed to upload main TiddlyWiki file. Your changes have not been saved",
	//specific upload
	loadOriginalHttpPostError: "Can't get original file",
	aboutToSaveOnHttpPost: 'About to upload on %0 ...',
	storePhpNotFound: "The store script '%0' was not found."
};

bidix.upload.uploadChanges = function(onlyIfDirty,tiddlers,storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir,backupDir,username,password)
{
	var callback = function(status,uploadParams,original,url,xhr) {
		if (!status) {
			displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.loadOriginalHttpPostError);
			return;
		}
		if (bidix.debugMode) 
			alert(original.substr(0,500)+"\n...");
		// Locate the storeArea div's 
		var posDiv = locateStoreArea(original);
		if((posDiv[0] == -1) || (posDiv[1] == -1)) {
			alert(config.messages.invalidFileError.format([localPath]));
			return;
		}
		bidix.upload.uploadRss(uploadParams,original,posDiv);
	};
	
	if(onlyIfDirty && !store.isDirty())
		return;
	clearMessage();
	// save on localdisk ?
	if (document.location.toString().substr(0,4) == "file") {
		var path = document.location.toString();
		var localPath = getLocalPath(path);
		saveChanges();
	}
	// get original
	var uploadParams = Array(storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir,backupDir,username,password);
	var originalPath = document.location.toString();
	// If url is a directory : add index.html
	if (originalPath.charAt(originalPath.length-1) == "/")
		originalPath = originalPath + "index.html";
	var dest = config.macros.upload.destFile(storeUrl,toFilename,uploadDir);
	var log = new bidix.UploadLog();
	log.startUpload(storeUrl, dest, uploadDir,  backupDir);
	displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.aboutToSaveOnHttpPost.format([dest]));
	if (bidix.debugMode) 
		alert("about to execute Http - GET on "+originalPath);
	var r = doHttp("GET",originalPath,null,null,null,null,callback,uploadParams,null);
	if (typeof r == "string")
		displayMessage(r);
	return r;
};

bidix.upload.uploadRss = function(uploadParams,original,posDiv) 
{
	var callback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
		if(status) {
			var destfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("destfile:")+9,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("destfile:")));
			displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.rssSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+destfile);
			bidix.upload.uploadMain(params[0],params[1],params[2]);
		} else {
			displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.rssFailed);			
		}
	};
	// do uploadRss
	if(config.options.chkGenerateAnRssFeed) {
		var rssPath = uploadParams[1].substr(0,uploadParams[1].lastIndexOf(".")) + ".xml";
		var rssUploadParams = Array(uploadParams[0],rssPath,uploadParams[2],'',uploadParams[4],uploadParams[5]);
		bidix.upload.httpUpload(rssUploadParams,convertUnicodeToUTF8(generateRss()),callback,Array(uploadParams,original,posDiv));
	} else {
		bidix.upload.uploadMain(uploadParams,original,posDiv);
	}
};

bidix.upload.uploadMain = function(uploadParams,original,posDiv) 
{
	var callback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
		var log = new bidix.UploadLog();
		if(status) {
			// if backupDir specified
			if ((params[3]) && (responseText.indexOf("backupfile:") > -1))  {
				var backupfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("backupfile:")+11,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("backupfile:")));
				displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.backupSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+backupfile);
			}
			var destfile = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("destfile:")+9,responseText.indexOf("\n", responseText.indexOf("destfile:")));
			displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.mainSaved,bidix.dirname(url)+'/'+destfile);
			store.setDirty(false);
			log.endUpload("ok");
		} else {
			alert(bidix.upload.messages.mainFailed);
			displayMessage(bidix.upload.messages.mainFailed);
			log.endUpload("failed");			
		}
	};
	// do uploadMain
	var revised = bidix.upload.updateOriginal(original,posDiv);
	bidix.upload.httpUpload(uploadParams,revised,callback,uploadParams);
};

bidix.upload.httpUpload = function(uploadParams,data,callback,params)
{
	var localCallback = function(status,params,responseText,url,xhr) {
		url = (url.indexOf("nocache=") < 0 ? url : url.substring(0,url.indexOf("nocache=")-1));
		if (xhr.status == httpStatus.NotFound)
			alert(bidix.upload.messages.storePhpNotFound.format([url]));
		if ((bidix.debugMode) || (responseText.indexOf("Debug mode") >= 0 )) {
			alert(responseText);
			if (responseText.indexOf("Debug mode") >= 0 )
				responseText = responseText.substring(responseText.indexOf("\n\n")+2);
		} else if (responseText.charAt(0) != '0') 
			alert(responseText);
		if (responseText.charAt(0) != '0')
			status = null;
		callback(status,params,responseText,url,xhr);
	};
	// do httpUpload
	var boundary = "---------------------------"+"AaB03x";	
	var uploadFormName = "UploadPlugin";
	// compose headers data
	var sheader = "";
	sheader += "--" + boundary + "\r\nContent-disposition: form-data; name=\"";
	sheader += uploadFormName +"\"\r\n\r\n";
	sheader += "backupDir="+uploadParams[3] +
				";user=" + uploadParams[4] +
				";password=" + uploadParams[5] +
				";uploaddir=" + uploadParams[2];
	if (bidix.debugMode)
		sheader += ";debug=1";
	sheader += ";;\r\n"; 
	sheader += "\r\n" + "--" + boundary + "\r\n";
	sheader += "Content-disposition: form-data; name=\"userfile\"; filename=\""+uploadParams[1]+"\"\r\n";
	sheader += "Content-Type: text/html;charset=UTF-8" + "\r\n";
	sheader += "Content-Length: " + data.length + "\r\n\r\n";
	// compose trailer data
	var strailer = new String();
	strailer = "\r\n--" + boundary + "--\r\n";
	data = sheader + data + strailer;
	if (bidix.debugMode) alert("about to execute Http - POST on "+uploadParams[0]+"\n with \n"+data.substr(0,500)+ " ... ");
	var r = doHttp("POST",uploadParams[0],data,"multipart/form-data; boundary="+boundary,uploadParams[4],uploadParams[5],localCallback,params,null);
	if (typeof r == "string")
		displayMessage(r);
	return r;
};

// same as Saving's updateOriginal but without convertUnicodeToUTF8 calls
bidix.upload.updateOriginal = function(original, posDiv)
{
	if (!posDiv)
		posDiv = locateStoreArea(original);
	if((posDiv[0] == -1) || (posDiv[1] == -1)) {
		alert(config.messages.invalidFileError.format([localPath]));
		return;
	}
	var revised = original.substr(0,posDiv[0] + startSaveArea.length) + "\n" +
				store.allTiddlersAsHtml() + "\n" +
				original.substr(posDiv[1]);
	var newSiteTitle = getPageTitle().htmlEncode();
	revised = revised.replaceChunk("<title"+">","</title"+">"," " + newSiteTitle + " ");
	revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"PRE-HEAD","MarkupPreHead");
	revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"POST-HEAD","MarkupPostHead");
	revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"PRE-BODY","MarkupPreBody");
	revised = updateMarkupBlock(revised,"POST-SCRIPT","MarkupPostBody");
	return revised;
};

//
// UploadLog
// 
// config.options.chkUploadLog :
//		false : no logging
//		true : logging
// config.options.txtUploadLogMaxLine :
//		-1 : no limit
//      0 :  no Log lines but UploadLog is still in place
//		n :  the last n lines are only kept
//		NaN : no limit (-1)

bidix.UploadLog = function() {
	if (!config.options.chkUploadLog) 
		return; // this.tiddler = null
	this.tiddler = store.getTiddler("UploadLog");
	if (!this.tiddler) {
		this.tiddler = new Tiddler();
		this.tiddler.title = "UploadLog";
		this.tiddler.text = "| !date | !user | !location | !storeUrl | !uploadDir | !toFilename | !backupdir | !origin |";
		this.tiddler.created = new Date();
		this.tiddler.modifier = config.options.txtUserName;
		this.tiddler.modified = new Date();
		store.addTiddler(this.tiddler);
	}
	return this;
};

bidix.UploadLog.prototype.addText = function(text) {
	if (!this.tiddler)
		return;
	// retrieve maxLine when we need it
	var maxLine = parseInt(config.options.txtUploadLogMaxLine,10);
	if (isNaN(maxLine))
		maxLine = -1;
	// add text
	if (maxLine != 0) 
		this.tiddler.text = this.tiddler.text + text;
	// Trunck to maxLine
	if (maxLine >= 0) {
		var textArray = this.tiddler.text.split('\n');
		if (textArray.length > maxLine + 1)
			textArray.splice(1,textArray.length-1-maxLine);
			this.tiddler.text = textArray.join('\n');		
	}
	// update tiddler fields
	this.tiddler.modifier = config.options.txtUserName;
	this.tiddler.modified = new Date();
	store.addTiddler(this.tiddler);
	// refresh and notifiy for immediate update
	story.refreshTiddler(this.tiddler.title);
	store.notify(this.tiddler.title, true);
};

bidix.UploadLog.prototype.startUpload = function(storeUrl, toFilename, uploadDir,  backupDir) {
	if (!this.tiddler)
		return;
	var now = new Date();
	var text = "\n| ";
	var filename = bidix.basename(document.location.toString());
	if (!filename) filename = '/';
	text += now.formatString("0DD/0MM/YYYY 0hh:0mm:0ss") +" | ";
	text += config.options.txtUserName + " | ";
	text += "[["+filename+"|"+location + "]] |";
	text += " [[" + bidix.basename(storeUrl) + "|" + storeUrl + "]] | ";
	text += uploadDir + " | ";
	text += "[[" + bidix.basename(toFilename) + " | " +toFilename + "]] | ";
	text += backupDir + " |";
	this.addText(text);
};

bidix.UploadLog.prototype.endUpload = function(status) {
	if (!this.tiddler)
		return;
	this.addText(" "+status+" |");
};

//
// Utilities
// 

bidix.checkPlugin = function(plugin, major, minor, revision) {
	var ext = version.extensions[plugin];
	if (!
		(ext  && 
			((ext.major > major) || 
			((ext.major == major) && (ext.minor > minor))  ||
			((ext.major == major) && (ext.minor == minor) && (ext.revision >= revision))))) {
			// write error in PluginManager
			if (pluginInfo)
				pluginInfo.log.push("Requires " + plugin + " " + major + "." + minor + "." + revision);
			eval(plugin); // generate an error : "Error: ReferenceError: xxxx is not defined"
	}
};

bidix.dirname = function(filePath) {
	if (!filePath) 
		return;
	var lastpos;
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[img[https://secure.reservexl.net/wwwimg/img/tours/181-1.jpg]]

''Without Words''

Going to job interviews are always stressful. What clothes do I wear? Should I dress up? Should I dress business causal? What if I am too dressy? What if I am too casual? Can I afford the cleaning bill for my suit?

These were the questions going through my mind as I drove Jeanie home from her radiation treatment.

Jeanie, my live in girlfriend, was undergoing a series of [[radiation treatments]] for her [[brain tumor]]. As was our routine, I would drive her to the appointment and then go to the nearby park at the river to wait. Since money was tight, we couldn’t afford the parking fee at the clinic.

In fact, money or income was non-existent.

The shock of Jeanie having a terminal brain tumor had zapped me emotionally, physically, and financially. Before either of us knew how sick she was, she had tearfully asked me to take care of her. She was scared, in pain, and confused. She had no one else to turn to.

My decision to support her was not without conflict. Jeanie lived life in the fast lane. She was like a Corvette going all out on a country road. It was easy to find doubt to her condition. Were her confusion, convulsions, headaches, and mental problems a consequence of her reckless lifestyle? Was she having DT’s? With a strong sense of guilt, I must admit it was easy to point blame for her pain on her behavior.

And there was the fact that Jeanie had caused me immense personal loss because of her actions during a drunken fit of anger.

I am left with this question in my memories of her: Was this devastating act of revenge against me caused by wickedness, her being drunk, or a consequence of her brain damage?

As was Jeanie’s style, she had retreated for a few months after her hurtful blow to me. She had just lost her job as a waitress because she was having problems remembering orders. She couldn’t stand being on her feet all day. She had went to Illinois to stay with friends and work with their business there. She stayed there for a few months until one day, while raking some leaves, she fell into a convulsion. After a few days of recuperation, she returned to Indianapolis to be near family.

Shortly after returning to Indianapolis, she showed up at my house in a state of attrition. She was sorry. She was lonely. She was drained. She spent the night at my house and we slept together. While Jeanie was always a willing, receptive, and responsive lover, she had never initiated an overture to have sex. That night, she practically begged for intimacy, but I refused her because of my self-righteousness and hurt feelings.

We got up the next day and Jeanie made some coffee as was her custom. It was one of the small joys of our relationship that she liked making the morning coffee and I liked having it made for me. While we were shaking off the night’s sleep and watching the morning news, Jeanie had a seizure. Since she had not had anything to drink since she arrived at my house, I thought she might be going into withdrawal. Was this a [[“Sunday Morning Coming Down”]] type of moment?

Jeanie shook. Her eyes went out of sync and rolled. She spilled a little coffee. It lasted all of thirty seconds.

When she came out of the fit, she was confused and afraid. I held her for a while and this seemed to comfort her. As the confusion lifted, she looked up at me with fearful and tearful eyes and said she didn’t know what to do. She asked if I would help her and I said I would. She said she loved me and I said, “I love you too.” I looked down on Jeanie’s hand in my lap and saw that she still wore the engagement ring I had I bought her.

Jeanie’s options for help were not great. She was estranged from most of her family for a variety of reasons. She had three sisters and her father. Two of her sisters lived in Indy. One was a self-indulged and self-centered alcoholic whose passion for life seemed to consist of a bottle of whiskey and a fully charged vibrator. The other sister in Indy was a late blooming crack head. Her closest sister lived in Texas and suffered from agoraphobia and alcoholism. She spent her days drinking Jim Beam and Coke while she watched game shows. Her father lived in a nearby town, and was a re-married, born-again Christian. Jeanie and her father’s relationship had been very strained in the years since he had forced her to get an abortion. Their rift had deepened after he had divorced Jeanie’s alcoholic mother who shortly thereafter died.

Jeanie went stayed with her father for a few days after she left my house. The father took her to the hospital and to church. She didn’t have insurance, nor was she “saved”. She ended up going to several hospitals and doctors until she got a MRI. They told her she had a brain tumor and gave her a referral to our local county hospital for the poor.

Jeanie called me and gave me the news. She expressed mixed feelings, but was hopeful. She said that all she had to do was get an operation to get the tumor cut out and she would be normal. She said she was glad about finding out what was wrong, but was very frightened at the prospect of getting brain surgery.

Jeanie called me a couple of days later and asked me to go to a service at her father’s church [the church's website: http://fmpbc.net/main.html]. She said that she was going to be baptized and wanted me there. I had been brought up in a very religious home and this pleased me immensely. She was going to get some insurance for her soul.

I met Jeanie at a small country church and sat with her in the pew with her father, stepmother, and some other friends. Jeanie had on a dress of her stepmother’s. She had few dresses and the ones she had certainly were not in order for a Baptist church meeting. The dresses she rarely wore were more appropriate for a Victoria Secret’s club meeting at a ritzy nightclub.

We sat on the hard bench and held hands during the long service and sermon.

After the service, Jeanie and her dad went to church office, through the door, behind the baptism tub. They met with the pastor to discuss Jeanie’s baptism. I waited in the pew as the congregation of strangers left.

Jeanie and her father emerged about fifteen minutes later. We all went outside and lit up a smoke. Jeanie said that the pastor had told her that she was ‘not ready’ for baptism. She went on to give a rambling account of their meeting, but summed it up by stating the pastor would not baptize her.

Jeanie told her dad that she was leaving with me and was staying with me for a few days before she was to be admitted to the hospital. We left together and drove home.

Jeanie was admitted to Wishard Hospital. They ran tests and evaluated her. During this period of time, I called a friend who happened to be a prison chaplain and arranged to have Jeanie baptized at the hospital before she had her surgery. Brain surgery is serious business. I wanted to prepare Jeanie with the baptism. I wanted to give her what the Baptist preacher had denied her: a small degree of comfort and peace.

The day before her surgery, the chaplain baptized Jeanie in a deep tub in the physical therapy department of the hospital. Me and two hospital aids were in attendance. Afterwards, I gave Jeanie a present of a new Bible both as a celebration and encouragement of hope.

Later that night, Jeanie went through a [[mortification ritual]] in preparation for the surgery. Her sister helped her shave her head and then remained with her the whole night. They took some before or and after pictures, to remember the event.

Jeanie had the surgery. I would later learn that the doctors had discovered that the tumor was malignant and that her condition was terminal. She could live for a matter of weeks or up to a year. The doctors didn’t know. The doctors had told her father, but he made the decision to with hold this information from Jeanie. I learned that Jeanie was dying on the day she was to be discharged from the hospital. The hospital staff were making preparations to send her to a nursing home when I received a phone call from Jeanie’s sister. She explained that Jeanie was dying, but did not know it. The sister said that Jeanie wanted to be with me and did not want to go to the nursing home. I said okay.

My life was forever altered by that phone call. It was devastating news that affected me to the core of my being. I felt profound grief, a lump in my throat, and an unyielding pressure on my chest. I later learned from my own medical evaluations that I had, at some recent point in my life, a ‘silent’ heart attack. I will always believe that it occurred at this moment of receiving the news of Jeanie’s impending death.

I would not work and be gainfully employed for more than three years after this.

I brought Jeanie home in a hospital gown. She had a [[stapled incision]] on the side of her bald head about the size of a grapefruit. She was in good spirits, but child like. The surgery had damaged her brain and altered her personality. She could not remember things or words. She held the belief that she had been in the hospital to deliver a baby, but oddly, it did not seem to bother her that she had no baby with her.

I believed that her delusion of having a baby stemmed from her forced abortion almost thirty years before. It appeared to be an unresolved mental conflict because the abortion had seemingly caused her to be unable to bear children. After three marriages, Jeanie had not had children. Jeanie would never know pregnancy again.

Jeanie was left without the ability to have normal conversations for much of the time. I was frequently left with my thoughts as I tried to complete the daily chores of caring for her.

As was often the case, I replayed these memories as I drove home from the radiation treatment on the day of my big job interview.

The enduring despair closed a little, and my thoughts turned more to the duties at hand, as I pulled into our parking space. I helped Jeanie upstairs to our apartment. The radiation treatments caused her brain to swell and the medication they gave to ease the swelling had caused her muscles to waste away. Everyday I wondered how long would it be till I had to carry her up and down the stairs and provide total care? She had already deteriorated to the point of not being able to do most self-care. However, she continued to be able to make coffee for us. She could not cook, clean, do laundry, remember things, and sometimes was unable to speak, BUT…she seemed to take pride in being about to make coffee for us.

Jeanie went into the kitchen to [[make us some coffee]], as I got ready for my job interview

Jeanie’s sister from Texas had come up to help care for Jeanie. She had been staying with other family members. I had arranged for her to come over and sit with Jeanie while I went to the job interview. The sister would be happy as long as I provided some Jim Beam and Coke as she watched TV and Jeanie.

As I showered, I thought about how much I needed this job. We were broke. We had no money for food, gas, utilities, or the house payment. What we did have coming in was only through the generosity of a local church and some minimal poor relief from the township trustee. Our food came from the poor relief pantry. This was new to both of us. Jeanie and I had always been employed.

I dried off and put on a robe. I went to the living room expecting to see Jeanie sitting in her usual place with Missy the dog, smoking a cigarette, and sipping a cup of coffee. She was not there. I panicked and the thought raced through my mind that she had fell, or that she had tumbled down the stairs. ‘Jeanie’, I called. No one answered.

I heard some rattling in the kitchen. I found Jeanie there standing. She was crying on just one side of her face. She was frozen yet shaking. She was rigid and shivering. She could not speak and made only some pitiful half cries and sniffles. She was holding a skillet over the sink with a can of coffee grounds near. I comforted her and helped her sit down. I held her for a while.

Much later she told me that she had just forgotten how to make coffee; she would never make it again.

Her sister arrived and took over comforting Jeanie as I finished getting ready for the job interview.

Reluctantly, I got in the car to drive to the job interview. Jeanie needed me, but we both needed the money a job would bring.

I was going to an interview for a temporary job doing substitute teaching. It was a very flexible position where I could work when I wanted to. I figured this would work into my schedule. On the days Jeanie was doing good, I could go to work a day as a substitute teacher. It would greatly help the household to have a little income.

The interview was at Kelly Services. I interviewed with a young woman of about 35 years of age. She was about average in the looks department and her dress was middle of the road. She read through my resume. She asked questions about my twenty-five years of working as a social worker. She went off a few times on tangents to ask questions which were obviously from a personality test. Lastly, she got to the section on personal background.

She asked, “Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Could you explain the charge and the details of the sentence?”

I told her that a couple of years ago, Jeanie, my live in girlfriend, had gotten angry with me while in a drunken fit. We were had a party for her cousin. She had got upset with me. We argued. I left the party and she continued drinking. A few hours later, she called the police and told them I choked her. I had not. I had gone home and went to bed. At 3:30 am, the police knocking on my door woke me up. They pushed their way into my apartment and arrested me without ever telling me a reason or a cause. On the way to jail, and with me in handcuffs, the officer told me that Jeanie had called them and said I choked her. After Jeanie sobered up, she tried to drop the charges, but the prosecutors told her they would file charges against her if she did. This frightened her to the point that she was arrested for DWI after an appointment with the prosecutor. I went to court and was convicted of misdemeanor battery and sentenced to six months of probation.

I said that there was much more to the story and asked her if she was interested in hearing it.

She said, ”No. We can’t possibly hire you in this position. ''You have committed [[crimes against humanity]].'' There is no point going further with this application.”

I was stunned. I was speechless, but even if I were not, she was not going to allow me the opportunity to tell the rest of the story. The feeling was like being slapped, and then choked. This accusation ripped at my very being. I had worked for almost twenty-five years caring for the sick, the helpless, and the underdog. I was caring for Jeanie as she died. We were broke and below struggling. And this bitch accused me of committing crimes against humanity. I was hurt in a way I had never known and would be forever changed.

I left without my dignity or the job. I would not find regular and gainful employment for three more years. Long after Jeanie died I continued to suffer the extreme poverty alone.

It seemed only half thoughts and incomplete sentences were in my mind on the way home. It was something of a blur as my consciousness was imbibed by emotion.

When I arrived home, Jeanie had calmed. She still could not speak complete sentences but she seemed to understand what was being said to her. Jeanie’s sister asked me how the interview went. She had been hopeful that a part time job would help Jeanie and I.

I briefly explained what had happened. When I got to the part about being accused of committing crimes against humanity, my eyes welled up with tears from anger and despair. I looked over at Jeanie and tears were welling up in her eyes too.

I said to Jeanie, “Do you understand? I didn’t get the job. They accused me of committing crimes against humanity. They think I abused you. Do you understand?”

Jeanie could not speak. As she nodded yes, a teardrop fell from her eye. Then more tears. For just a moment, I just looked at her with tearful and angry eyes. Just the look, silence, and anger. Jeanie cried and shook. And then my heart broke yet again that day. I embraced her and we both cried, without words.

Additional Notes:

[[Have you ever been convicted of a crime?]]

[[Ready for Jesus]]

Letter to Kelly's Services : http://www.bobcardwell.com/kelly.pdf

Jeanie use to sing at a karaoke bar every once in a while. This is the song she usually sang.

You Oughta Know  [lyrics]

by Alanis Morissette

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me
Would she go down on you in a theatre
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, till you died
But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her

Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, til you died
But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

Cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me
And I'm not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back
I hope you feel it...well can you feel it

And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

[[Brain Scan]]

Almost anyone with a GBM brain tumor dies in a very short time. Sometimes the dying is horrible.

Causes

Pathogenesis

Symptoms

Diagnosis

Treatment

It is very difficult to treat glioblastoma due to several complicating factors:[10]

Treatment of primary brain tumors and brain metastases consists of both symptomatic and palliative therapies.

Symptomatic therapy

Supportive treatment focuses on relieving symptoms and improving the patient’s neurologic function. The primary supportive agents are anticonvulsants and corticosteroids.

Palliative therapy

Surgery

Radiotherapy

Chemotherapy

Crimes against Humanity



Atrocities and offences, including but not limited to murder, extermination, enslavement, deportation, imprisonment, torture, rape, or other inhumane acts committed against any civilian population, or persecutions on political, racial or religious grounds whether or not in violation of the domestic laws of the country where perpetrated.

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5124356572252030386"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/cardwell.bob/Rx1fJweFRbI/AAAAAAAABt0/gCiO3NZGlew/s400/1110507530_10fffc9ec8.jpg" /></a></html>

Jeanie liked making us coffee, and I liked having it made for me.

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5124356662446343746"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/cardwell.bob/Rx1fPAeFRkI/AAAAAAAABu8/DXb8PJ58fmU/s400/1109627451_2e14fe122d.jpg" /></a></html>

''Jeanie prepares to cut her hair and shave her head for the surgery the next morning with her sister, Denise.''

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5171794311387752354"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/cardwell.bob/R8Xnhl2nJ6I/AAAAAAAAC34/P7cKuT4O6Zo/s400/radiation_small.jpg" /></a></html>

This is how Jeanie was strapped in to get her radiation treatment.  She had a specialized type of treatment call gamma knife therapy.  It is is a more precise type of radiation and the treatment area has to be held very still.

<html><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/cardwell.bob/JeanieRoy/photo#5124356675331245666"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/cardwell.bob/Rx1fPweFRmI/AAAAAAAABvM/1gWStDjgTaQ/s400/1109616189_11b03b500b.jpg" /></a></html>  

This is Jeanie's head a few days after the brain surgery.

Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.

In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.

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