Gary Goes to Vegas

Debbie Lybrand
September, 2010

On September 9, 2010, it is one year since my brother left us. The last year has been one of much activity on many levels, but it has been one of utter despair to fight the daily grief, the small reminders of continued loss, the awkward moments when something hits you and the tears spring forth uncontrollably as people around you are unsure of what to say or do and can be unsure of what is really going on as you sit feeling stupid without being able to control your own emotions. It has been a year to reflect on friends and family who have lost their own immediate family and to understand first person of the grief they have suffered and to learn compassion at a level beforehand that you could not fully comprehend.

Having to settle into a life without Gary has been difficult for everyone. Each day a new patient comes to Tidewater Physicians for Women and has to be told of Dr. Browning’s passing. Each day, our family rises to start a day without their ray of hope and love that Gary provided. Our grandmother turned ninety-four this last week and her long and healthy life is a reason for incredible celebration, but she carries sadness in her heart over her lost first-born grandchild who she absolutely adored. She loved her letters and postcards from Gary as he traveled the world. The mail does not hold the same joys for her in the last year.

Only one year ago, Gary spent the week before his death doing what he wanted. He was in Las Vegas to see his friends and have some fun. The months leading up to the Las Vegas trip were not always fun; the months of chemotherapy and the ailments of the disease were not anything one would classify as such. Gary had a reaction to one of his treatments in late July which almost killed him and required a fast move to the emergency room for treatment to make sure he survived. So fun had been in short supply before Las Vegas.

When I talked to Gary about not going to Las Vegas the week before his trip because I was worried about his condition, he simply told me that not going was not an option. For those of us who watched as Gary planned his world travels, you know he loved the pre-trip planning, preparations of all sorts and those related discussions (and of course the post-trip conversation) almost as much as the trip itself. He was a consummate planner. Every detail was prepared and everything was in place. Gary’s travel arrangements were just a reflection of the way he lived his life.

Such was it for Las Vegas. Airline arrangements were made for comfort. Gary had arranged a private car to pick him and Pep up at the airport and deliver them to the hotel door. A scooter for mobility was ordered to be at the hotel just in case he was too tired to walk around the hotel and attend events. Tickets for the conference were in hand. Dinners were planned. Clothing was thought out and would be packed. Medications were ordered to fit the travel plan with emphasis on pain medication, just in case.

So, as all this was laid out in front of me, it was clear about one thing: Dr. Browning was going to Las Vegas, no matter what and no matter who thought otherwise. Period. End of discussion. And I was told no, don’t think about him cancelling or even having me going along to help him. Period. Done. Can any of you who know Dr. Browning hear this conversation taking place? There were many more words than this traded over the risks in travelling while being so ill, but those shall remain between me and Gary for now. One day, perhaps, I shall be compelled to detail the entire conversation with the morbid, but funny, comments we actually exchanged in this conversation. With, or without, the full transcript of our conversation, you still get the idea that he was fixed on going, regardless of opinions of others.

Dr. Browning desired to live his life as he laid it out, not as his cancer demanded he should live. He discovered he was sick in late November 2008, had a ton of tests done within one week and, by early December 2008, he had developed a plan of how he would fight this disease and regain his life.

Somewhere in those first two weeks of December 2008, I have no doubt that the man we all knew as one who was the Commander-In-Charge of his life, and everything around him, was feeling less than in control. To face the prospect of dying when one has just laid down plans for a future life in a foreign country with the love of one’s life is no easy task. Dr. Browning was never a person to accept fate; he believed we were who we decided to be and we did what we decided to do. He and I shared a few private conversations about those early December emotions and they while remain private between the two of us. But, I will share with you that this was not a man with a simple weakness. He did struggle; he did breakdown briefly. But, not in his character and certainly not in his belief of what was his to handle. It did take him a few weeks to be able to get those big feet firmly planted under him, but he did it quickly and with strong conviction. There was no turning back; only he could run his life and be in control of his future.

So, when Dr. Browning announced to his TPW family and his blood family that he was ill, it was an inconvenience that would need to be handled. Gary was already formulating his plan to beat the cancer and continue to run his life according to his plan. He would not accept that death was the end result of this illness because there were odds about this disease and people were living well beyond expectations and Gary would always be the man to accept, and beat, the odds. He convinced me that while dire, there were solutions, tests, studies to be done that could make the difference in his life or death.

Sometimes, the odds are against us, no matter our convictions or our strengths. In this case, and in retrospect, Gary just did not find the disease soon enough to gain better odds. In speaking of odds and beating something, it is almost ironic that Gary’s final trip was to Las Vegas, the odds capital of the world.

You may notice at times I call him Gary; at other times I call him Dr. Browning. Dr. Browning is the person we all knew. Professional, direct, patient, impatient, intelligent, genius, generous……..that list goes on and on. He was a person who we all admired and cared about. He was the professional man and one who always was near perfect. He was firm and well-grounded, a man who could be trusted with most dire secret, the intellect who could seek answers and results to any problem, the one we all went to for help.

Gary, on the other hand, was just my brother. He was the one who I grew up with, who laughed with me and sometimes made fun of me, who loved me beyond belief, who pushed me to be the best person I could be. He was the one I could lay my head on his shoulder and just laugh with about stupid and silly things. He was the one I could say “remember when…….?” and not get a stern look that meant don’t you darn well say something that will embarrass us. He was the simple, kind, caring and loving brother every sister deserves to have.

Dr. Browning stopped hanging around in our relationship in December 2008. Somehow, the man who was between me and Gary just stopped coming with Gary during our visits. Instead of Dr. Browning, the professional demeanor that had become my brother, there was the delightful, soft and sweet Gary. It was the Gary who was there during our childhood and even into our early teens, before college was obsessively on his brain and his dreams of being a doctor and all the demands of such moved out my Gary so he could evolve to become Dr. Browning.

It was in some ways like the clock ticked backwards in a massive piece of time. And yet, it was modern time with the old personality in front of me. Instead of talking so much about business and today’s life, we talked about the past and we discussed the future. We no longer spoke as if we were work colleagues, but as if we lived the same life. Gary shared his love of Pep, his plans for the future and what he wanted to do and where he wanted to travel. He wanted down time to relax and have fun to do things his busy professional life didn’t afford him time to enjoy. We reminisced about our childhood sharing the fun, and not so fun, parts and we giggled sometimes almost like we were children. I was able to tell him how much I loved and admired him and he shared his love with me. I don’t know where this one on one personal involvement had gone over the last 30 years, but to have it back was the biggest blessing in my life during 2009.

As I look back now, I realized that Gary knew he was not going to beat those odds. He knew it was all illusion, talking about the future and how he was going to do this or that. It was Gary just being in control: offering his brand of optimism, keeping all of us peaceful and finding hope that he would be with us longer. It was his way of controlling the environment, telling all of us it would be ok. Isn’t that what he always did? So, whether he was Gary or Dr. Browning, he still was working hard to make sure we were comfortable when he was not; he was keeping knowledge close at hand and not sharing too much outward if possible.

So, Las Vegas was to be his last trip. He knew that and he wasn’t going to give in until he made it to Las Vegas. In seeing his health deteriorate throughout August, I honestly think the thoughts of going to Las Vegas became the reason he lived into September. And, no matter how hard I asked and inquired of him about not going, he was going.

For those of you who know the full story, you know Gary did go to Las Vegas for Labor Day weekend. He was able to see his friends and share a few laughs. Once there, he fulfilled a big goal, one that had more meaning that anyone could understand especially since a trip to Las Vegas seemed like such a little trip after all of the worldwide travel Gary had done over the last decades.

It was downhill physically from that Labor Day trip to September 9 when he died, but Las Vegas was a victory for Gary. Dr. Browning never went to Vegas or traveled to these particular locations with Gary’s loving friends as it was always Gary when he was on vacation. Pep, Harley, Jeffrey, Oscar, Steve, Jim and the others all knew Gary. They shared his fun loving personality, his hilarious sense of humor, and his kindness and compassion.

Perhaps more important than having my brother, Gary, back during 2009, I was able to share in just a few moments of him being him with his friends. A stolen glimpse into his life was afforded to me in Las Vegas; to see Gary’s friendships, his loves, and his companionship with his most special and dear friends. So while I was losing him to a terrible cancer that had eaten him from inside, on the outside I was able to see that one last compartment of his private life as just Gary and appreciate that he was living a full and loving life, both as Dr. Browning and simple as Gary.

Gary became critically ill in Las Vegas and he and Pep made the call to me that I was fearful would come. I had already booked my airline ticket to Las Vegas by the time they called that Friday morning to say Gary was so ill he needed to go to the ER. Pep had instant messaged me the day before to say that Gary was not doing so well, and that was in spite of the light hearted and happy email messages I was getting from Gary!

After a restless night, I ignored my brother’s words and my promise to him not to come to Las Vegas. I woke that morning with God’s hand on my back pushing me to get in gear and get going. Driven by a force that I cannot explain, I went straight to my computer and booked a one-way seat on Southwest with a direct flight from Norfolk to Las Vegas. I was online booking my car and hotel when the call came from Gary and Pep that morning. No worries, I was on the way as fast as I could get there.

Upon arrival in Las Vegas, I went straight to the hospital to see Gary. Pep, who had had little sleep since arriving to Vegas, updated me about Gary’s condition since arriving in Las Vegas and Gary, who was sleeping, opened his eyes and gave a wonderful smile through the veil of pain medication that shaded his face. Pep always at our side, I spent the next six days holding Gary’s hand a lot, stroking his hair, giving him little kisses and getting that same loving smile from him. It is too hard to recount the events of those days that were to come following that quick flight to Las Vegas, but there is such joy in knowing that Gary went to Las Vegas. He lived his life up until the last day as he planned. He asked to return home to Norfolk to see our Mother before he died, and I made those arrangements with great haste when the doctor’s told me he was barely stable, but stable enough, to transport home.

The whole Las Vegas trip is another life lesson from my brother: never discount what you want to do regardless of what obstacles you face or what other people think. Gary would have been an ultimate Nike spokesperson in terms of that “Just Do It” campaign.

As we come to the one year anniversary of Gary’s passing, my family would like to extend our warmest and most sincere thanks for the support we have received. As the days, weeks and months have rolled by and our saddened hearts have tried to become reinvigorated to continue living our lives, we have been helped by the stories of our Gary. So many of you have told us of the kind, loving, and generous Gary where he was interwoven into your own lives. At the same time, we have tried to offer the same love back to those who have lost their own beloved family members in this last year. And, it has been a trying year with many losses of those close to Gary as we have been saddened by the loss of their family members. It seems so many of us are tied together in life but also in the loss of our loved ones.

On September 9, let us remember that One who has departed is only gone from us in person; their memory and their spirit do linger with us and carry us forward for the rest of our lives. So long as we continue our love and memories, they never die. May we all carry Gary, along with our other lost loved ones, in our hearts and in our memories; share their lives in stories and pictures with those who remain among us so that they continue to live as we live.