MY FRIEND, PATRICK

 Since I have been reminiscing about Barrow, I feel that I should mention my friend, Patrick Pendleton.  

He came to Barrow shortly some time before the 1995 dot.com bubble burst.  His motivation was to move from Ohio to somewhere that he could sit out that recession.  

He was from Willoughby, Ohio.  It may sound familiar being the name of a village in a Twilight Zone story.  His first job in Barrow was working for Mark Air as a baggage handler.  That job also included a lot of cargo as well.  

The Mark Air building, which contained a smallish hamburger joint upstairs, was next to the two very long landing strip.  The landing strips were long enough for jets to take off and land.  They were paved but took a beating.   

North Slope Borough Search and Rescue was situated next to Mark Air.  They had a Lear jet and a large helicopter. 

Like a lot of people, Patrick submitted his application for various jobs in Barrow.  One of them was for the medical record department.  Judy interviewed him and he was hired.  No experience but very willing to learn.  

He fit in well.  He was very tall, blond hair and he had Marfan's Syndrome which means he had long bones and connective tissue disorder.  

The desks were a bit short for him, so I looked at the situation and wondered if the maintenance guys could build a wooden cradle of 2x4's for the table legs. They did, it raised the desk about three inches which helped tremendously.  There were four desks in the coding room, peopled by Patrick and three other ladies.  The ladies were all Filipino which meant they were very hardworking but took very long vacations because they went to P.I and their absences were usually two or three months.  So essentially one of the desks was pushed against a wall.  

Patrick had a terrific sense of humor.  One day the bunch of us were eating lunch in the very small lunchroom, it held four tables.  He was chatting away and mentioned that he enjoyed his Aunt's recipe for hamburger dildo. Heads whipped around.  He dabbed his lips and explained that his Aunt, almost nun-like had a recipe for Hamburger Dill Roll.   You take a largish dill pickle, roll it in hamburger and fry it.  I asked him what the side dish was and he twinkled, "Why white pearl onions with white sauce!"  Everyone roared with laughter. 

About three months or so later, Patrick complained of a nagging pain low in his abdomen.  One of the docs in ER diagnosed a dissecting aorta.  He was shipped to Anchorage where it was confirmed that his descending aorta was bulging.  

He elected to fly home to Ohio then to Mayo Clinic.  He had a resection.  Early in his stay a day after surgery, he called wanting to speak to the hospital administrator.  John was off slope so I chatted with Patrick for a while.  Soon, it became clear that his mentation was not at all clear.  He kept trying to tell me that the aliens were invading.  Then he hung up.  I called back and spoke to a nurse who was aware of Patrick's postop condition.  

In a few weeks he returned.  His normally high pitched voice was now a whisper due to damage to his vocal cords while intubated.  The surgery was successful except that he some nerve damage from the low pelvic surgery and his gait was weak.  He needed to use one of the carts that carried charts to help his navigation.  I got him a bicycle bell for the cart so he would warn people that he was coming.  

After about a year he decided he would study for Coder Certification.  The annual test was held in Anchorage so he flew down to take the test.  Unfortunately he rental developed a flat tire and by the time that was taken care of the Poctor's had closed the test site.  So he came back to try again later.

The next year it all went well.  If I remember correctly the two of us flew down together.  I was attending the State Medical Record annual meeting and he took the test. But it wasn't all grimness.  We and a lot of medical record people went to a local club where Mr. White's Review was playing.  It was hilarious.  I have never laughed so hard.  

Anyone who flied to Anchorage knows to take an extra piece of luggage folded in amongst the regular suitcases and such.  This allows one to go shopping at Carr's for goodies, food stuffs not found in Barrow, or Nordstroms for clothing.  I once saw an ad for boots and called to ask them to mail me a pair of boots which they did.  They were sold because there was a fault with the boots.  I looked for the longest time before I realized the fur was slightly shorter on one side as compared to the other.  We also went to Staples to pick up some computer supplies.  Those extra bags to come in handy.  

A few months later, Patrick had a check up x-ray of the low abdomen and the aorta from the heart was dissecting.  He flew to Mayo Clinic for surgery.  I took vacation at the same time.  

When I returned to Barrow, Monica called me to say that Patrick had the surgery but it was not successful.  He died.  

His funeral was held in Willoughby.  His mother, Marge Pendleton called to tell me about the ceremony.  

I decided to have a memorial for Patrick.  I spread the word that there would be potluck and a memorial in the commons room.  About twenty people showed up and told funny stories.  I started off with the Hamburger Dildo.  

One of the ladies told a story that she had invited a bunch of people for Thanksgiving dinner.  Patrick was one of her frequent guests.   

He was a terrific cook.  He brought a wonderful dried noodle salad to a potluck once, recipe taken from a book entitled "100 Casserole Recipes".  I asked what he wanted for his birthday one year and said something to do with cooking.  So I got him a set of graduated glass measuring cups starting at four cups on down.  

Anyway the party commenced.  It took forever to cook the turkey because she was following a Martha Stewart recipe that called for the bird to be covered with thin cloth and basted regularly every 15 minutes.  The party started at noon and dinner was not served until 10 pm because it took that long to cook the turkey.

I called Marge Pendleton later to tell her how the memorial went.  I told her that I was disappointed that a beautiful blond with two small children crying for their daddy had not crashed the memorial.

Marge took the rest of the money from his life insurance to purchase a B&B that had something to do with ducks.  

I miss that young man.