“Yes.”
I leaned down and rubbed my face against his arm and kissed it gently. I licked his arm hairs and brought his hand up to my mouth. “I love you,” I told him and never meant it more. I felt high and giddy. I took each of his fingers into my mouth and slowly sucked on them, wrapping my tongue around each finger and slowly moving it around. They tasted salty. I kissed him.
“Did you feel that?” I asked him. “I kissed you.”
“No,” he said. “I wish I could. But knowing that you did is almost as good as anything. Do it again.”
I kissed him harder and lost myself in abandon with the handsome young man who had once belonged to another woman. It didn’t feel strange. I felt excited. It was like I was learning about the male body for the first time all over again. He was young and gorgeous and, as Amanda had put it so well, cute.
I pulled the sheets down and held his beautiful penis and kissed him there, too. He was soft. He would never have an erection, I was told. But it didn’t matter. I took him in my mouth and held him there for a long time. He tasted delicious, really. I stroked his balls and squeezed them gently the way Howard used to like it.
I moved his arm down to my moist place and rubbed myself with his hand. I didn’t feel I was doing anything wrong. All I experienced was an exhilaration, a swirling blood-filled heightening.
How could I ever love another man?
21: Dave Hueger
I wasn’t surprised when Len Feasley called and asked if I wanted the first interview with Howard Lavery. Grateful? Yes. But not surprised. Things in my life have kind of worked out that way. Just when I hit rock bottom something reaches down and pulls me up again.
Ever since the news conference, when I’d lost my head and disrupted things by lurching toward the front and shouting Lavery’s name, my career had spiraled out of control. Why? Because my credibility was shot.
When I blurted out Lavery’s name, I became part of the story. As soon as Dr. Bernstein and Len Feasley made their escape from the news conference, the cameras turned in my direction and the horde of reporters fell upon me and shoved hot lights and microphones in my face. Those who didn’t know me wanted to know who I was. Who was Howard Lavery and how did I know him? How did I find out and how did I get involved?
I can’t adequately explain what came over me during the news conference. To be honest, I flipped out for a few minutes. There I was standing with everyone else and listening to the biggest story ever slip away. I was so unbelievably close to breaking the story personally. But there were Dr. Bernstein and Len Feasley standing up there telling everyone, and it wasn’t my story anymore. And that asshole Bernstein had promised I’d have an exclusive. I felt betrayed and lost. I saw my career falling away from me.
Sadly, it’s the kiss of death when a journalist becomes perceived as being involved. Because then you can’t report. You’re seen as being tainted by the story and, therefore, biased and incapable of being objective.
When I returned to the newsroom, Peggy Bolyard called me into her office immediately and fired me. “I don’t know which is worse, missing out on breaking the story of the decade or having one of my reporters go loony in front of the competition,” she said.
I camped out in my apartment and didn’t answer the phone, which rang off the hook. I listened to the messages but ignored them. Most were reporters wanting information. A few of my friends called to check in on me. Even Evelyn Meadows called, but I didn’t want to talk with her either. I sat on the couch for days in my underwear and ate snacks and drank beers and watched insane daytime talk shows. I was so screwed I couldn’t believe it. I reveled in feeling sorry for myself.
Eventually, though, and quite miraculously, I received a message from Len Feasley asking if I wanted an exclusive interview with Howard Lavery.
“Why me?” I asked when I called him back.
“Why not you?”
“I see. Answering a question with another question. Don’t fuck with me.”
“We think it’s time to do this, is all. Your name came up.”
“Go on.”
“Dr. Bernstein and I and, well, Howard, think we owe it to you. You’ve earned it. Besides, you need the work.”
“So you’ve heard.”
“I know more about you than you might think, Dave.”
“Isn’t that nice.”
“Do you want it or not?”
I didn’t answer right away, because I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to wash my hands completely of the story. Getting involved again would further complicate things. I would become an even larger part of the story, which was something I definitely didn’t want. What did I want? To fade away. I thought about moving to a small city to work at a small daily with a small beat and small desk. Maybe a small boss who left me alone. That might be nice. But curiosity stepped in and whispered in my ear. After all, here was an opportunity that virtually every other journalist in the nation would kill for. More than that, though, what was he like? What was he thinking and feeling?
When I said yes I didn’t know that I’d also be agreeing to a cockamamie scheme dreamed up by Feasley that would ensure the secrecy of Howard’s location. I didn’t have anything better to do.
The afternoon before Feasley was to pick me up, I called The New York Times and asked how much they would pay for the exclusive story. The answer: plenty. And with it came a promise of a job interview. Sweet. Then I called Time magazine, and they doubled the offer. No job interview though, but assurances of being able to string for them. My next call was to 60 Minutes; I offered them an exclusive interview with me after my contact with Howard. They dangled some nice dollars as well.
Then I called Evelyn Meadows and told her I was about to meet Howard. She was shocked. “Oh God,” she said. “Please take me with you.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry. But I’ll put in a good word for you if you’d like.”
“Oh please, yes.”
She pleaded for details while I prodded for information. I didn’t want to meet Howard without knowing what to expect. I was sure she could provide me with useful background. Sadly, she wasn’t helpful. She cried on and off during our conversation.
“I miss him,” she said. “If only you knew how much. I wish they’d told me about his real condition. I feel betrayed. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be seeing him. You know that. Isn’t there any way I can go with you? When are you going? Maybe I can just sit outside his door and wait for you and maybe they’ll let me see him then. You think?”
“Not this time,” I said. “Besides, I don’t know where he is. I’m being picked up soon. But I’m sure he’ll see you eventually. I promise to find out.”
I was standing outside my apartment waiting for Feasley to arrive. In my backpack was a fresh steno pad and tape recorder, as well as a few snacks. I’d prepared some questions, but mostly I planned on just going with the flow.
Feasley drove up and invited me to sit in the back seat. Then he produced a black hood that he wanted me to wear. It was made of leather and would completely envelop my head except for a hole where my mouth would be. A zipper on the side was secured with a small lock.
“I can’t have you knowing where Howard is,” he said apologetically.
“You don’t think I’m going to wear that. Where did you get it?”
“At one of those sex shops,” he said. “I tried it on. It’s comfortable.”
“I’m not wearing it,” I said again. “People driving by will see me.”
“You can lie down if you want, but you don’t have a choice. Do you think I’m going to allow you to see where Howard is?”
I thought it over just briefly then put the hood on. Feasley zipped and locked it. It was incredibly dark. Scary. Feasley suddenly had a considerable amount of power over me. How did people wear these things?
Anyway, once it was fitted and secure I lay down in the backseat and let Feasley drive.
With the oppressive darkness of the
hood I couldn’t concentrate on where we might be going. I suppose I could have managed to guess which way we were headed and where we made turns, but I didn’t. I was sweating and uncomfortable. Eventually, though, the car stopped and Feasley helped me out of the car and into a building. He led me around some corners, then said, “Sit down here. Careful.” He removed the hood.
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. My hair was plastered with sweat. I was disoriented and nauseated.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Give me a minute.”
I looked around and tried to get my bearings. I was inside a run-of-the-mill office building or warehouse. Dingy carpet. Dingy walls. I’d been in hundreds of spaces like this before.
Then I was ushered into the next room and had my interview, as promised. I was alone with Howard Lavery for about two hours. Afterward, Feasley fitted me with the hood again and drove me home.
Here’s my story that ran in Time.
*
THOUGHTS FROM A BRAIN
An Exclusive Conversation with Howard Lavery
“I don’t know if I’d do this again,” says Howard Lavery, the world’s first brain transplant patient. “It’s not much of a life, but at least it’s something.”
Lavery lives in a pleasant room inside an office building. Its location is secret. A full hospital-quality station has been arranged in his room. A bank of monitors follows his every breath.
In his first public interview, Lavery proves to be surprisingly sharp and alert. He can respond to questions, even seems to enjoy such interface. In a way, he’s like any other person.
But of course, he isn’t.
Lavery is a 54-year-old brain that has been transplanted into the body of a 35-year-old man. He lies propped up in his bed, head back, eyes closed. He looks like any other person you might see on the street. He’s a handsome man with a caring, youthful face.
But of course, it isn’t him.
Lavery’s head has a growth of hair about an inch long, but it is ringed with a horrific scar.
The brain transplant alone is a scientific and medical breakthrough. So is the communication method that his surgeon, Dr. Sidney Bernstein, has devised. Through a brain-anchored device, Lavery is given voice by a speech synthesizer. His voice is mechanical and devoid of emotion. Phrases are spoken plainly, without inflection, and there’s no tone to gauge emotion, sarcasm, or emphasis.
That does little to detract from the extraordinary accomplishment. He can listen and respond. He’s aware of his surroundings and knows what’s happening. Catherine, his wife of more than 30 years, reads him newspapers and magazines.
The facts about Lavery are well known now. A successful art gallery owner, he suffered a boating accident and contracted a rare bacterial infection that destroyed his body but left his brain intact. Enter Dr. Sidney Bernstein, a brilliant but secretive surgeon who had been experimenting with animal brain transplantation.
TIME: What do you think about?
LAVERY: A lot of things. The same things you think about. I think about the future a lot. I wonder what will happen to my family and the people around me. I think about the meaning of life in order to find a place for me. I think about situations and events in my past over and over. My earlier years are rich to mine.
TIME: Do you think about death?
LAVERY: Yes. I think about it. But mostly as a friend. Sometimes I want to die. I must be honest about that. I don’t exactly have a good life. You can see that. I can’t move. Can’t see. Can’t do anything. Except think. I think a lot. Sometimes when I get depressed I think about death as a good alternative. But mostly I’m happy to be alive.
TIME: Are you in pain?
LAVERY: No. I have little sensation of anything. I can feel when someone touches my arm. That is a very frustrating thing. Not being able to move. Not being able to feel anything. But that is a trade-off. Because I feel that I’m doing something important. I am told that the information the doctors learn from me may help a lot of people.
TIME: If you had the chance to make the choice again, would you consent to the transplant?
LAVERY: That’s an unfair question. Because I can’t go back. That is obvious. I have done what I have done and that is that. But I must tell you that lately I feel that I have been making a difference in people’s lives. How many people have a chance to do that? I may be a better person now than I was before.
TIME: In what way?
LAVERY: I am more philosophical now. The thoughts I have are more carefully considered. I rely on a lot of people. But when you think about it, there are many more people who are relying on me.
TIME: What brings you comfort?
LAVERY: Talking to you brings me comfort. Seeing how my family has responded is very gratifying. I’ve also become quite an avid music fan. I have all the time in the world to listen to complete libraries of music. I have an extensive CD collection.
TIME: Have you given any thought to your donor?
LAVERY: An hour does not go by without me thinking about the person in whose body my brain has been placed. He made an incredible sacrifice. He was dead, of course, so he never knew what would happen. But his family knows. I owe them everything. I think about him. I wish I knew more about him. I feel so very sorry for him and his family. It is a terrible thing. It is very hard to sort out. It is horrible. I am alive inside a dead man. How very hard that must be for his family. When they look at me they see a person they know. They recognize him. He’s alive. But it is really me. It is confusing for them. I am sure that has complicated their grief. How can you mourn a person who does not appear to be dead? That’s the main reason that the people around me haven’t allowed pictures of me to be taken yet.
TIME: What do you know of your condition?
LAVERY: Those who care for me are very honest. They tell me the truth. For now, I am alive and doing well. I have some feeling and other sensations. But even with their best efforts it’s not healthy for a person to be in one position. Pneumonia is always a risk. Rejection is another. There are a hundred things that can go wrong. And they can kick in any time. I am realistic about that.
TIME: Do you sleep?
LAVERY: Of course I do. But not on any schedule. I sleep on and off all the time. I have dreams and nightmares. I have good dreams. I am healed in my dreams. The strange thing is that sometimes I don’t know when I’m awake.
TIME: What would you say about Dr. Bernstein?
LAVERY: I am glad you asked. Because I have been hearing bad things that people have been saying about him. The media has been unkind. So has the medical profession. He is not a body snatcher. He is a true pioneer. And like many pioneers he has been ridiculed. You should not blame him. You should not pass judgment on him. After all, it was not his decision. It was mine. I consented to this. He gave me the choice. And think about this: If I had said no, I would be dead. That is for certain. And of course the person who gave me the new body was already dead. Who has been hurt? Who is suffering? What wrong has been done? I do not see any wrong. Dr. Bernstein is a great man who has extended my life. I do not understand the uproar.
TIME: What does your wife think?
LAVERY: It is very hard on her. But she is the most wonderful person in the world. She is here whenever I need her. She takes care of me. She reads me stories and gives me medication. She soothes my heart and feeds my soul. Of course, her life has changed just as much as mine. It is easy to focus on me. But what about my wife and family? What about Dr. Bernstein and his family? And how about the donor’s family? How about you? The more you look at things the more you see that there is a broader picture. I think much of life is that way. Things are not what you think. The person you see in front of you is not me. My brain is me. My thoughts and feelings are me. The things I do and actions I take are me. And that was the same before I got sick. I just never knew it. In a very real sense, there is not a person on the planet who is what you see. The brain is really the only thi
ng that makes us individuals.
TIME: What do you do during the day?
LAVERY: Well of course I do nothing. I lie here. It takes a lot of effort to do that. Ha ha. You should ask that question of the people who care for me. They read to me. Talk to me. Move my body around. Change my CDs. I get a lot of massages and physical therapy. They roll me over from side to side to keep me from getting bedsores. But I have gotten some anyway. Nothing serious though. I sleep a lot. Think a lot.
TIME: What music do you listen to?
LAVERY: Music is so very important to me. It never really used to be. I didn’t have time for it. I don’t think I bought 10 albums or CDs over the past 20 years or so. But now it occupies a good deal of my day. I listen to everything. Classical music is very nice because it allows me to create an environment in which I can relax and remember things. I don’t like loud rock and roll. I don’t like heavy metal music. My son bought me an old Hoagy Carmichael CD and it is terrific. I like a lot of Beatles. Ella Fitzgerald. John Coltrane. Bob Dylan. Frank Sinatra. Lately I’ve been listening to old comedy CDs from Bill Cosby and George Carlin. They are very funny. And that is an interesting thing. When you find something is funny you laugh. You move your face. The things you do with your body and face when you respond to humor are an integral part of the experience. But now when I find something to be funny it feels different. I experience an intellectual appreciation. It is a very strong emotion and it makes me feel good physically.
TIME: How do you keep yourself from getting depressed?
LAVERY: I do not try to keep myself from feeling depressed. I enjoy feeling that way. For me, any emotion is a good emotion. Because emotions are all that I have. Good feelings or bad feelings are both about the same to me. What they do is link into me and bring out memories and let me know I’m alive.
TIME: How would you want to be remembered?
LAVERY: As a good husband and a good father. As someone who took a risk so that others could benefit. That’s how I feel about it now. But that’s not how it has always been. As a father, I have a lot to learn. I’m only now reaching my potential in that area. And as a humanitarian, well, we’ll see how that goes. When I consented to this operation I was hurting. It was either death or a chance at some kind of life. Now I can take it further. I see clearly how what I’m going through is going to help other people. It already is.
Frank Page 20
