Born June 16th at 6:50 am in the Los
Alamitos Medical Center - at birth he weighed 8 pounds 8.5 ounces and was 21
inches long.
noah blair bastian
goodbye bill
The understatement of the century is to say that it has been a tough week.
In order to deal with this, I will resort to the age old technique of denial through humor. What else can you do but laugh when you see your friend die not once, but twice?
We trained at honbu on Friday afternoon before heading down to Ajiro, a resort town on the coast of Shizuoka Prefecture.
Early Saturday morning I was woken up and told that Bill had passed out in the bath. When I ran downstairs I saw Bill lying on his side. His head was purple, his heart stopped, no pulse, no breathing. I immediately started CPR, and within seconds the paramedics arrived and took over. They got his started again and I rode with him in the ambulance. His heart kept starting and stopping on the ride to the hospital. After about an hour, they got him stabilized and into an intensive care room. The doctor said that his family should come to Japan immediately, so that call went to his wife. I stayed with him all day until 8pm. He was convulsing in epileptic seizures and his heart rate was erratic, though the ventilator kept his breathing regular and the six IVs of drugs and fluids kept him going.
Went back to the hotel and told everyone what I was told: he was stabilized but not out of danger yet.
On Sunday I went back and everyone else went to the tournament. He looked much better; color was good, heart and breathing stable, blood pressure normal, no more seizures. After the tournament everyone came by to see him and we all felt better, hoping the brain damage after he wakes up would be minimal.
Sue and Tony arrived Sunday night and we went back to see Bill on Monday morning.
He had just had another brain scan, and Dr. Takanashi gave the assessment: it was not, as originally believed, an epileptic seizure. He had a brain infarction in the left occipital lobe, which caused the seizures. His heart was stopped for at least ten minutes total, causing massive brain damage due to lack of oxygen to the brain. Most likely caused by a blood clot in the brain.
His breathing weakened steadily, and within the hour I saw him die for the second time, his wife and friends by his side.
According to his and his family's wishes, I arranged to have him cremated. The hospital asked for permission to do an autopsy to find out the specific cause of death, and so I came back on Tuesday morning to sign the permission slip and do the paperwork to transfer the body.
According to Japanese law, a doctor's certificate of death is necessary to transport a dead body, and a governmental death certificate is required for cremation. To get a death certificate at the City Hall, proof of next of kin is required. But since both the wife and deceased are not Japanese, the director of the hospital signed as the family representative. Also, in order to verify the deceased name and birthday, a copy of his passport was required. The hospital had a copy on file, but according to the Personal Information Protection Law, I was not entitled to a copy since I was not next of kin. I swear at that point I was on the verge of a breakdown, with my head in my hands. I think the hospital figured it out because they took one look at me and decided to just give me a copy of the passport.
Then, when I tried to get another copy of the death certificate for the US Embassy at City Hall, I could not because I was not immediate family. The wife could not either, since again they could not "prove" that she was next of kin. Ah, but the hospital director could get a copy, since he filed the original paperwork. So the wife of the funeral director went down the street to get a name stamp in the name of the hospital director, which was used to forge the hospital director's name on the death certificate request. This was, by the way, suggested by the woman who worked at City Hall as the best method of procuring a copy of the death certificate.
Paperwork completed, I went back to Tokyo and we took Sue and all to Honbu Dojo to see Niina-gosoke. After some group hugs we went out for a feast of meat, and that certainly helped lift everyone's spirits for a bit.
On Wednesday, Sue and The Verduginator got on the bus to the airport and Tony and I went to the Embassy to get the US paperwork. Otokita-san at the embassy was an absolute angel, and since I had done as she suggested and faxed in most of the paperwork, she was able to finish up everything else fairly quickly. She gave us several copies of English death certificates that Sue would need for various things, and some paperwork that Tony could use to take the remains back to the US.
On Thursday Tony and I went back to Atami and picked up Bill.
It was a cold, rainy day.
Bill is now a pile of ash and bones in a simple pottery jar with a lid. We wrapped him in a Senpokan tenugui.
On Friday Tony took Bill back to LA to be with his family.
Dying in a country in which your friends and family don't speak the language is complicated. I am glad that I could be useful and do something helpful for Bill and everyone else.
Death is neither glorious nor romantic.
Death is horribly ugly and miserably depressing.
Death is sticky and smelly and a dead arm hanging off the side of the bed is cold and heavy.
And I will never, ever forget that color I watched him turn. Twice. Death is not black, it is sickly purple.
His room was overlooking the ocean and when he died the sky was blue and the haze was far, making the mountains float. The sound of the ocean waved through the room as slowly as his breath. His heart beat and his lungs filled with salt air for the last time. And the ocean waves rumbled on.
In order to deal with this, I will resort to the age old technique of denial through humor. What else can you do but laugh when you see your friend die not once, but twice?
We trained at honbu on Friday afternoon before heading down to Ajiro, a resort town on the coast of Shizuoka Prefecture.
Early Saturday morning I was woken up and told that Bill had passed out in the bath. When I ran downstairs I saw Bill lying on his side. His head was purple, his heart stopped, no pulse, no breathing. I immediately started CPR, and within seconds the paramedics arrived and took over. They got his started again and I rode with him in the ambulance. His heart kept starting and stopping on the ride to the hospital. After about an hour, they got him stabilized and into an intensive care room. The doctor said that his family should come to Japan immediately, so that call went to his wife. I stayed with him all day until 8pm. He was convulsing in epileptic seizures and his heart rate was erratic, though the ventilator kept his breathing regular and the six IVs of drugs and fluids kept him going.
Went back to the hotel and told everyone what I was told: he was stabilized but not out of danger yet.
On Sunday I went back and everyone else went to the tournament. He looked much better; color was good, heart and breathing stable, blood pressure normal, no more seizures. After the tournament everyone came by to see him and we all felt better, hoping the brain damage after he wakes up would be minimal.
Sue and Tony arrived Sunday night and we went back to see Bill on Monday morning.
He had just had another brain scan, and Dr. Takanashi gave the assessment: it was not, as originally believed, an epileptic seizure. He had a brain infarction in the left occipital lobe, which caused the seizures. His heart was stopped for at least ten minutes total, causing massive brain damage due to lack of oxygen to the brain. Most likely caused by a blood clot in the brain.
His breathing weakened steadily, and within the hour I saw him die for the second time, his wife and friends by his side.
According to his and his family's wishes, I arranged to have him cremated. The hospital asked for permission to do an autopsy to find out the specific cause of death, and so I came back on Tuesday morning to sign the permission slip and do the paperwork to transfer the body.
According to Japanese law, a doctor's certificate of death is necessary to transport a dead body, and a governmental death certificate is required for cremation. To get a death certificate at the City Hall, proof of next of kin is required. But since both the wife and deceased are not Japanese, the director of the hospital signed as the family representative. Also, in order to verify the deceased name and birthday, a copy of his passport was required. The hospital had a copy on file, but according to the Personal Information Protection Law, I was not entitled to a copy since I was not next of kin. I swear at that point I was on the verge of a breakdown, with my head in my hands. I think the hospital figured it out because they took one look at me and decided to just give me a copy of the passport.
Then, when I tried to get another copy of the death certificate for the US Embassy at City Hall, I could not because I was not immediate family. The wife could not either, since again they could not "prove" that she was next of kin. Ah, but the hospital director could get a copy, since he filed the original paperwork. So the wife of the funeral director went down the street to get a name stamp in the name of the hospital director, which was used to forge the hospital director's name on the death certificate request. This was, by the way, suggested by the woman who worked at City Hall as the best method of procuring a copy of the death certificate.
Paperwork completed, I went back to Tokyo and we took Sue and all to Honbu Dojo to see Niina-gosoke. After some group hugs we went out for a feast of meat, and that certainly helped lift everyone's spirits for a bit.
On Wednesday, Sue and The Verduginator got on the bus to the airport and Tony and I went to the Embassy to get the US paperwork. Otokita-san at the embassy was an absolute angel, and since I had done as she suggested and faxed in most of the paperwork, she was able to finish up everything else fairly quickly. She gave us several copies of English death certificates that Sue would need for various things, and some paperwork that Tony could use to take the remains back to the US.
On Thursday Tony and I went back to Atami and picked up Bill.
It was a cold, rainy day.
Bill is now a pile of ash and bones in a simple pottery jar with a lid. We wrapped him in a Senpokan tenugui.
On Friday Tony took Bill back to LA to be with his family.
Dying in a country in which your friends and family don't speak the language is complicated. I am glad that I could be useful and do something helpful for Bill and everyone else.
Death is neither glorious nor romantic.
Death is horribly ugly and miserably depressing.
Death is sticky and smelly and a dead arm hanging off the side of the bed is cold and heavy.
And I will never, ever forget that color I watched him turn. Twice. Death is not black, it is sickly purple.
His room was overlooking the ocean and when he died the sky was blue and the haze was far, making the mountains float. The sound of the ocean waved through the room as slowly as his breath. His heart beat and his lungs filled with salt air for the last time. And the ocean waves rumbled on.
bill arno
William Joseph Arno, aka Froat, 48 years old, loving husband and father. God speed, bless your soul, and we'll see ya in the next life.
t-minus one week
Stopped by Honbu yesterday and did some cutting, trying to figure out what to do for my demo at the taikai next week. Cut terribly, so that's probably a good sign (?)
Had a big seminar today. Spent the first hour or so with all the upper ranks going over the judging process and how to use the judges flags, etc. After that I took the unranked beginners and beat them senseless. Actually, I just talked them through a few kata and tried to get them to relax a bit and have some fun. A couple of them will be ok if they keep practicing. So, how many of them will still be here a year from now...?
One of the girls was practicing on her own and kept stabbing straight at her friend, so I commented "Trying to kill off the competition before the tournament? Good strategy, Killer." From now on her nickname is "Koroshiya" (killer). Not bad for a four-foot tall giggly Japanese girl. She loves the nickname. No, really.
Came home and Masa came over for dinner. We had the standard Sunday evening feast; ginger pork, Masa's famous miso soup with pumpkin and onions and a boiled egg, spinach and tofu, cucumber with bacon...
Had a big seminar today. Spent the first hour or so with all the upper ranks going over the judging process and how to use the judges flags, etc. After that I took the unranked beginners and beat them senseless. Actually, I just talked them through a few kata and tried to get them to relax a bit and have some fun. A couple of them will be ok if they keep practicing. So, how many of them will still be here a year from now...?
One of the girls was practicing on her own and kept stabbing straight at her friend, so I commented "Trying to kill off the competition before the tournament? Good strategy, Killer." From now on her nickname is "Koroshiya" (killer). Not bad for a four-foot tall giggly Japanese girl. She loves the nickname. No, really.
Came home and Masa came over for dinner. We had the standard Sunday evening feast; ginger pork, Masa's famous miso soup with pumpkin and onions and a boiled egg, spinach and tofu, cucumber with bacon...
imperial palace swan @ night
Crummy day at work, unfocused at practice, so decided to walk home past the Imperial Palace. Reasonably cool night, and as I walked along the moat, I spied a swan pecking at the wall and generally just swimming around looking chill as only swans can. Felt much better after that.
dog day
After practice I got on the subway with Hata-chan, and a woman got on carrying an Annoyingly Small Dog in a Louis Vuitton doggy bag. I started into my standard diatribe about comparing the amount of money people on their dog accessories versus what we spend on human children living in poverty.
Coincidence? As soon as she got on the subway, my eyes started watering, my throat got all scratchy, and I started coughing. Ah, the joys of allergies. I am usually ok, because in a city like Tokyo it's generally quite simple to avoid animals. But not when they are brought onto the damn subway.
Reminds me of the flight a couple of years ago I took from London to New York. Seems someone bought her cat on board. I started sneezing like a madman, and of course didn't have any allergy medicine on me as I made the obviously silly assumption that this would be a cat-free flight. I asked the flight attendant if she could move the cat to the back of the plane, but she said the owner bought her cat a business class ticket seat, and suggested that I move to the back of the plane. I reminded her that I was a business flyer, on a ticket purchased at full fare, two weeks before flying, going from Tokyo to London to New York to Tokyo, working for a company that flies exclusively on United. I said the choices were simple:
1) The cat goes as far away as possible;
2) We wait another hour and, when my allergy attack gets bad enough, we turn the plane around and land back at Heathrow so that I can be taken to the hospital; or
3) I move up to first class.
For some reason the flight attendant actually had to think about it and consult with ground operations before moving me up to first class.
I have nothing against pets or animals in general. I am totally indifferent, having never had any significant pets of my own. What really festers my bunions are people who treat their animals better than they treat their fellow human beings. Never mind the fact that United was so desperate for the sale that they actually sold a seat to a cat. The cat was actually miserable; crying the whole flight, obviously scared out of its mind from being stuck in a caged box inside an airplane surrounded by strangers for 12 hours, and subjected to violent turbulence and altitude changes. I don't know how desperate the cat owner was for her cat's companionship, but the non-cruel thing to do is sedate the animal and stick it in freight. 12 hours later the cat awakes from its nap in New York, never the wiser.
So this lady on the train, with a dog the size of a sewer rat in a handbag expensive enough to feed an impoverished family of 10 for a year, taking this miserable canine-rodent onto a shaking, noisy subway full of strangers, she's not doing ratdog any favors. The short-haired little chihuahua was trembling in fear and wishing it was big enough to support its own body weight instead of being so pampered (read: malnourished) that it needs to carried everywhere.
The only acceptable animals-as-fashion-accessory: fur and leather. Wear 'em with pride, bonus points for killing it yourself.
Coincidence? As soon as she got on the subway, my eyes started watering, my throat got all scratchy, and I started coughing. Ah, the joys of allergies. I am usually ok, because in a city like Tokyo it's generally quite simple to avoid animals. But not when they are brought onto the damn subway.
Reminds me of the flight a couple of years ago I took from London to New York. Seems someone bought her cat on board. I started sneezing like a madman, and of course didn't have any allergy medicine on me as I made the obviously silly assumption that this would be a cat-free flight. I asked the flight attendant if she could move the cat to the back of the plane, but she said the owner bought her cat a business class ticket seat, and suggested that I move to the back of the plane. I reminded her that I was a business flyer, on a ticket purchased at full fare, two weeks before flying, going from Tokyo to London to New York to Tokyo, working for a company that flies exclusively on United. I said the choices were simple:
1) The cat goes as far away as possible;
2) We wait another hour and, when my allergy attack gets bad enough, we turn the plane around and land back at Heathrow so that I can be taken to the hospital; or
3) I move up to first class.
For some reason the flight attendant actually had to think about it and consult with ground operations before moving me up to first class.
I have nothing against pets or animals in general. I am totally indifferent, having never had any significant pets of my own. What really festers my bunions are people who treat their animals better than they treat their fellow human beings. Never mind the fact that United was so desperate for the sale that they actually sold a seat to a cat. The cat was actually miserable; crying the whole flight, obviously scared out of its mind from being stuck in a caged box inside an airplane surrounded by strangers for 12 hours, and subjected to violent turbulence and altitude changes. I don't know how desperate the cat owner was for her cat's companionship, but the non-cruel thing to do is sedate the animal and stick it in freight. 12 hours later the cat awakes from its nap in New York, never the wiser.
So this lady on the train, with a dog the size of a sewer rat in a handbag expensive enough to feed an impoverished family of 10 for a year, taking this miserable canine-rodent onto a shaking, noisy subway full of strangers, she's not doing ratdog any favors. The short-haired little chihuahua was trembling in fear and wishing it was big enough to support its own body weight instead of being so pampered (read: malnourished) that it needs to carried everywhere.
The only acceptable animals-as-fashion-accessory: fur and leather. Wear 'em with pride, bonus points for killing it yourself.
kimono shopping
Hiroko wanted some kimono stuff, so we spent the day wandering Harajuku/Shibuya/Omotesando. First powered up on Nathan's and then went to the used clothing mecca Chicago and loaded up on han-obi. Then we walked up towards Aoyama and hit a few different places. Got a few used kimono and more obi at a Oyama Kimono inside of Oriental Bazaar.
Got home with a craving for steaks so instead of the traditional Japanese Sunday dinner, we feasted on slabs of dead cow and 'taters, side o' greens.
Got home with a craving for steaks so instead of the traditional Japanese Sunday dinner, we feasted on slabs of dead cow and 'taters, side o' greens.
mugaido
Went to Sakaguchi-san's shop in Takadanobaba and checked out his toys. More of a hang out than a store, he's got some nice papered swords and various bits and bobs. One really sweet shinto blade just my spec; unsigned but papered. Have to get some new fittings on it though, as it's kitted out for display not use and that's just NG.
jon gibson & phillip glass
So my cousin (well technically he's my mom's cousin; he was married to the daughter of the older sister of my mom's mom) Jon Gibson was in town with Phillip Glass On Film. They were performing live while showing the classic Dracula. It was most cool. After the show we hung out with the band for a never-ending tofu feast. Phillip played with his rented cell phone taking videos and we were all being generally silly and just eating way too damn much tofu!
fighting
Glutton for punishment. After three straight days of iai, I went to fighting fitness with Hiroko, in an attempt to do something reasonably cardiovascular for a change. The result: stunning pain. I am so out of shape.?And uncoordinated. And out of shape. Did I mention I also can't hold a beat?
kumitachi
Kumitachi seminar today at Akihabara. Haven't been to Akihabara practice in forever. Nakayama-san and I had lunch first (his choice: deepFriedPork!) and then headed over. Good crowd; about twenty. We did the seated kata first; took forever on the first one and then paced well for the rest of the seminar. Yoshida-sensei brought her mom and daughter, both of whom played in the corner as mom trained.
It was good fun and three hours flew by, but after Friday and yesterday, my arms and back were fried.
Started raining so we cabbed back to Honbu Dojo, put the gear away, and headed home. Hiroko made the traditional Kuroda Sunday Japanese Fest, and there was much eating, and loosening of waistbands, and leaning back on the couch and pronouncing "Umph...full..."
As is the tradition, we ended the evening with The Best Show On Television: Kurobara.
It was good fun and three hours flew by, but after Friday and yesterday, my arms and back were fried.
Started raining so we cabbed back to Honbu Dojo, put the gear away, and headed home. Hiroko made the traditional Kuroda Sunday Japanese Fest, and there was much eating, and loosening of waistbands, and leaning back on the couch and pronouncing "Umph...full..."
As is the tradition, we ended the evening with The Best Show On Television: Kurobara.
gyoza
Cut like ass today, and that's all there is too it. Everyone else did really well. I was in my worst form ever. Shoulder hurt, arm hurt, hand bleeding from scraping it on the tsuba. Lots of excuses, but bottom line is I suck and need to practice more.
Came home after practice, chilled and changed, and then had dinner with Will and The Satch, in town for a bit doing pre-marriage things. Gyoza. Mmm....gyoza. So Good. A little meaty drop of joy in a fresh hand-made skin!
Came home after practice, chilled and changed, and then had dinner with Will and The Satch, in town for a bit doing pre-marriage things. Gyoza. Mmm....gyoza. So Good. A little meaty drop of joy in a fresh hand-made skin!
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