So, Carter, I did as you asked. In the Army we'd say you were off doing reconnaissance for us, finding out where we're going to go. I doubt I'll ever make it to Heaven, but it's nice to know you are checking it out for me ahead of time. You can find the good places to goof off up there.
As for everyone down here, let me finish with this. I've known some really brave men in my time – soldiers, policemen, firefighters - men labeled as heroes, but here's the God's honest truth! The bravest man I ever met was a little boy named Carter Henry Tusk. Thank you"
Chapter 116: 1994
By the time I finished my little speech, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. It was hard for me to tell for sure, though, since I was crying and could barely read the paper I had written it down on. I was working from memory at that point. Over in the front row, Bucky was crying, and Tusker and Tessa had their arms around each other and were weeping.
We all pulled ourselves together, though, and I sent Marilyn and the kids out to the car. I had to help carry the casket out to the hearse with the rest of the pallbearers. Once we were done, I was in the car behind the limo carrying the Tusks, with the other pallbearers following. At the cemetery, we laid Carter to rest, and then went back to the church for a memorial lunch in the parish hall.
At the lunch Tessa wrapped me in a big hug and thanked me. Tusker told me, "You should have said something, man."
I shook my head. "What? Carter asked me not to, and there wasn't anything else you could have done other than what you were already doing. I didn't tell Marilyn, either. Sometimes there just are no good answers."
He sighed and shook my hand. "I know. I just wish it could have been different."
"Did you and Tessa ever think about having any more children?"
He shrugged at that. "We thought about it a few years ago, but decided two were enough. It's too late now in any case."
"Really? Tessa's my age, right? She's what, 38 or 39?"
At that Tusker gave me the first smile I had seen in weeks. "It's not her, it's me! I got snipped a few years ago." He made a scissors motion with his fingers.
My eyes widened at that. "I had no idea! When did you do that?"
"Oh, I guess around five or six years ago. Tessa wanted to get off the Pill and we decided we didn't want any more kids. Now that I think about it, you and Marilyn must have been away on vacation or something."
Back on my first go, I had gotten a vasectomy, too. In an incredibly selfish way, our accident, with Marilyn losing the baby and being unable to have any more children, had spared me having to go through it again. It is nowhere near as enjoyable as they advertise!
First, you aren't unconscious; they do this all under a local. You are laying there with your legs up in stirrups, and the doctor says, 'You'll just feel a pinch, like a bee sting.' Well, it wasn't a pinch, and I've never had a bee sting me there! Next, while you are looking down between your legs, he's slicing and dicing you, and then while the vas deferens is exposed, he is cauterizing that. Wait until you see smoke rising from a place that smoke is never supposed to rise from!
Afterwards he slaps a Band-Aid on everything and you get to wear a modified jockstrap to support everything and go home with. He also gives you some painkillers, and they aren't enough and they are nowhere near as strong as they need to be. You are going to be off your feet for about a week and you are going to be in pain for three to four weeks.
Ahead of time you are told, 'It's no worse than getting kicked in the balls.' That is perfectly true. What is left unsaid is the fact that no man yet born has ever volunteered to get kicked in the balls! Then, the next morning, when you start moving again, it feels like somebody kicked you in the balls all over again! It's like this day after day for almost a month! Forget about sex! Nothing down there is going to work for weeks!
Also, by the way, don't let your dog sit in your lap. The doctor told me this and I asked 'Why not?' He told me how one of his patients when home, sat down in the recliner, and his St. Bernard jumped into his lap. The stitches gave way and everything kind of squirted out through the opening. He ended up in an ambulance going to the hospital!
I grinned back at my friend. "I'll bet that made riding a motorcycle an exciting experience!"
Tusker rolled his eyes. "Like you wouldn't believe! Come over to the house sometime. I'll kick you in the nuts and then we can go dirt biking on a motocross trail!"
"You make it sound so appealing! I can see why you do so well in sales."
Tusker laughed, again probably for the first time in a month or more, and then went off with Tessa to talk to some of their guests.
The good news was that after Carter was laid to rest, the Tusk family settled back down again. Without the stress of his failing treatment, our friends went back to normal. It had seemed at one point like they were on the verge of splitting, but it all just calmed down and they stayed together. A few weeks later, he showed me a small pamphlet from a memorial company, and pointed out the stone they were getting for the grave. It was going to be a large stone, but one with spaces for three names, Carter's and both his parents. They had bought the plots on either side of his.
Later that fall, we were having dinner with the Tusks, and I asked, "Back when Carter first got sick, and you guys started taking him down to Johns Hopkins, do you remember how I did some checking if there were any treatments available that he could get?"
Tusker and Tessa looked at each other and then Tessa said, "Yes, and you said there wasn't anything that could be done that we weren't already doing."
"That's true. What I didn't say, because it had nothing to do with Carter, was that the doctors I spoke to all said that the one thing I could do was help get them the funding for more research. I was thinking, I mean, yes, in Congress I can do that, but what about just as a private citizen? I talked to a guy down at Johns Hopkins. If you would agree to it, I want to create a professorship for research down there. We'll call it the Carter Henry Tusk Chair, or something like that."
They looked at each other again, and it was Tusker that answered. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. How much would that cost?"
"Well, nothing. I would simply endow a chair and send them a check."
"Okay, but how much is it?"
I had been hoping to avoid that, but it was a legitimate question. "Four million." I had discussed this with my wife of course, especially considering she was the trustee for the Buckman Foundation, and would be writing the check.
Tessa's and Tusker's eyes snapped wide open! "Four million?! Dollars!? You can't ... I mean ... Are you kidding me?!", gabbled my friend.
"Tusker, I can't take it with me. Maybe someday something that professor figures out can save me, right? Besides, money isn't something I covet just to be rich. It's a tool, and what better way to use it than something like this.", I responded.