Mr. Bear Goes For a Plane Ride

When my daughter Kathleen was little my Dad found a stuffed bear at a garage sale. He bought it for a buck and spent who knows how much having it cleaned. Kathleen loved that bear. He’s white, fair size and real cuddly. I have pics somewhere of my wife sleeping on the sofa curled up with Mr. Bear (that’s his name). So some years went by, and Kathleen went to the hospital to have her appendix out. She didn’t care about anything but having Mr. Bear. So he came to the hospital. I don’t know how Hospital staff felt about it but Mr. Bear was cool. Fast forward to 1994 and I was diagnosed with kidney cancer. I don’t remember when the condition manifested itself, probably around August 10^th, After a series of very comprehensive tests I got my diagnosis on August 19^th. Kathleen was living in France, she and her husband were on vacation in the Pyrenees in the Southwest and we couldn’t contact them. So I went and had my kidney removed. The surgery was on Friday the 26^th. My wife was able to contact Kathleen that weekend and while I couldn’t talk to her Mom assured her the operation went well etc. When you have serious abdominal surgery they keep you in the Hospital until all your functions are normal so I was looking at a week at least. I had lots of visitors from Monday on and Wednesday morning a biiiiiiig package showed up. Mr Bear climbed out and spent the rest of my stay watching over me. When you are a Quality Manager with a “Certain Reputation” having a big white stuffed bear on your bed gives people pause but most of them understood. The ones that didn’t needed to get a life. Mr Bear was watching out for the Cancer Demon one day while I took a nap. When I woke up a guy named Phil Menchaca was sitting in my visitors chair. Now Phil was the Union business agent. He was a long time friend and a decent guy as well as being one of the best workers we had in the plant. I called him “No fuss Phil”. He made every job he did look easy. He smiled and said “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody” And he didn’t. Mr. Bear came home from the Hospital with us and when Kathleen came back from France he departed our house and went back to live with her. He’s retired from guard duty now but spends his days on the bed in Kathleen’s spare room relaxing from a busy life. I hired a Gargoyle to replace him. Gerard lives in the garage but he’s on the job twenty four/seven. And so far he hasn’t let us down. That’s seventeen years of life that I have had because of a great surgeon named Lawrence Hildebrandt and an anesthesiologist name Paul Page. And some luck. Mr Bear saw the whole thing.