Under the Knife

by Diane Fanning

  She showed Dean a spot of discolored pigmentation. Dean diagnosed it as a benign skin lesion. Overstepping the medical bounds with this pronouncement posed a potential danger to the patient. Most doctors would advise a biopsy before coming to that conclusion and taking action. Instead, Dean offered to remove the lesion with laser treatments. She would not feel any pain during the procedure, he told her, because he would administer a local anesthetic. Again, Dean stepped into territory under the purview of licensed physicians, not cosmetic practitioners.

  Hearn filed a report with her office. They referred the case to the office of the state Attorney General Eliot Spitzer for prosecution. Officials there decided not to press charges at that time because they wanted more evidence of wrong-doing. They encouraged the department of education to continue their investigation.

  Dean dodged a bullet without even knowing how close it whizzed by his head. It looked like 1999 would be a great year—until fate intervened, driving Dean back to abuse of alcohol and then the harder stuff.

  Early in the year, Carmel Faiello was diagnosed with a recurrence of cancer. Years before, doctors had diagnosed uterine cancer, but after surgery and radiation treatment, she went into remission. In 1999, she had a problem with her epiglottis—the flap of cartilage that lies behind the tongue and in front of the entrance to the larynx. At rest in its normal functioning, this valve-like structure remains upright, allowing air to pass through. During swallowing, it is supposed to fold back and cover the entrance to the windpipe.

  Carmel’s epiglottis was stuck in the upright position, allowing food and drink to enter the lungs, and air to enter her stomach. Doctors recommended surgery to repair the valve. When they made the incision, they discovered rampant cancer, including a large tumor in her stomach. Her condition was inoperable. They stitched her back together and left her to die.

  Whenever Dean paid his mother a visit at Debra’s house, he butted heads with his sister and her partner, who did not want Carmel to take sleeping pills. They wanted to provide holistic care for her in her final days.

  Dean, however, agonized over his mother’s pain and inability to sleep. He decided to slip her drugs without letting her, his sister or the doctor know. When Greg found out about it, it instigated their first fight.

  It was on Greg’s birthday. He spent the day expecting Dean to call. Every hour that the phone did not ring was a disappointment. It made Greg a little upset to spend his birthday all alone, but he wasn’t angry with Dean. He knew his boyfriend’s mother was dying, and his forgetfulness—although it saddened him—was understandable.

  Late that night—with barely an hour of his special day left—the phone finally rang. Instead of wishing Greg a happy birthday, though, Dean launched into a diatribe about the difficulty of crushing up sleeping pills into his mother’s gelato.

  “Why are you doing that?” Greg asked.

  “I can’t let Mom or Debra know I’m giving them to her.”

  “You can’t do that, Dean,” Greg screamed. “You don’t know what other medications she’s taking. You don’t know if the pills you’re giving her will have a bad interaction with the other drugs.”

  “She can’t sleep, Greg. She’s in too much pain. I can’t just sit here and watch her suffer.”

  “You can’t drug people without their knowledge, Dean.”

  Dean slammed down the phone. Greg sighed. He knew Dean was acting out of compassion, but he also knew his actions could have deadly consequences.

  DEAN HAD NOT YET CAUGHT UP WITH HIS BACKLOG OF BILLS. He had to work long hours. That kept him from visiting his mother as often as he would like. His absence at her bedside fed his guilt and increased his sense of frustration—a potentially destructive combination for any addict attempting to maintain sobriety.

  Greg noticed Dean’s descent in its early stages, but he hesitated to intervene, fearing that it would drive Dean deeper into dependency. Only in retrospect did Greg realize he’d become an enabler. At the time, though, he thought he was helping someone he loved. He knew Dean had genuine feelings for him, as well. Dean wanted to be sober for Greg. His success, though, was spotty, creating a dysfunctional trap for both men.

  Greg tried to distract and re-focus Dean’s attention by initiating a renovation project at the Newark home. The resulting look was elegant. Artfully placed mirrors enlarged the rooms. Scattered settees created nooks for conversation. A baby grand piano added panache.

  Outside, he planted colorful beds of impatiens and other annuals. In addition to event planning, Greg’s business included garden landscaping and maintenance contracts; whenever he over-bought boxwood hedges or any other shrubbery or flower, he worked them into the exterior design on Elwood.

  From the beginning of their relationship, Greg developed a passion for revitalizing the grounds of the historic Victorian mansion. He loved having an outlet for his creative impulses—a place where he could experiment with plants and design as he pleased, without having to worry about the desires of a paying client. He placed an eclectic assortment of statuary on the grounds. He made the interior and the gardens a showcase. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get Dean engaged in any constructive way.

  As his mother’s health worsened, Dean missed more and more days of work, sabotaging his own efforts at economic recovery. When Greg left for his annual vacation to his family’s place on the lake in upstate New York, Dean lost control of any semblance of sobriety.

  Carmel Faiello died on August 12, 1999—just two weeks before Dean’s fortieth birthday. At great personal expense, Greg created the most lavish floral display he could conceive of for her funeral. He doubted the suburban funeral home had ever seen a piece that large. Greg stood by Dean’s side offering comfort throughout the services at Grace Church. The death of a close relative devastated most HIV-positive individuals, reducing their sense of a safety net—creating a world where there was one less person who cared about their fate. Dean was no exception. After his mother’s death, he withdrew into a drug-induced haze, sleeping whole days away.

  Elizabeth, Dean’s Hungarian housekeeper, grew increasingly concerned about Dean, too. He had stirred up her maternal instincts, making her as protective of him as she would be for a son. Even though she only worked weekdays, Elizabeth frequently dropped in on Sunday afternoons to make sure Dean was okay. She feared that she’d come to work one day and find him dead from a drug overdose.

  Sam Faiello, Dean’s father, was still estranged from his son. Dean never forgave him for his abusive behavior, or for divorcing his mother, or for the wounds inflicted when Dean came out of the closet.

  Dean had made some effort to interact with his father while his mother was still alive. At her prodding, he called Sam on his birthday and on Father’s Day. Now that his mother was gone, those efforts died, too.

  As far as Dean was concerned, their relationship was scarred for life. No contact was necessary or even desirable. Nonetheless, Sam did show some paternal concern for his only son. He called Elizabeth often to find out how Dean was doing.

  Greg could no longer remain silent in the face of Dean’s deterioration. With the help of a mutual friend who was a physician, Greg got Dean back into rehab on an outpatient basis. Dean visited a Manhattan clinic three mornings a week.

  Once again, Dean expressed a sincere desire to give up alcohol and drugs. His life eventually returned to an even keel—he worked hard, enjoyed life and made progress in resurrecting his economic stability.

  Greg expected that Dean would receive some inheritance from his mother, which would ease some of his financial difficulties. Debra, though, inherited everything. Greg asked him why he didn’t get a share of his mother’s estate. Dean shrugged and said, “Because I’m so irresponsible with money.” What Greg didn’t know was that, in a sense, Dean received his inheritance in advance. Before his mother passed away, Dean applied for and got a number of credit cards in his mother’s name. He maxed out every one of them.

  After Carmel’s
death, the bills came in, revealing Dean’s fraud. The estate paid thousands of dollars to clear the debt Dean had incurred. No one pressed charges.

  Greg believed that if he could ferret out the root cause of Dean’s addiction, if he could uncover a traumatic incident in his childhood, then he could guide him through the self-examination and confession that are often the first step to healing. In this way, he felt Dean could make meaningful and abiding changes in his life. “Why do you need to abuse drugs and alcohol?” Greg asked him.

  Dean’s only response was a shrug.

  “Why are you so unhappy?”

  Dean brushed off the question with a non-answer: “I was born unhappy.”

  Then, a lawsuit disrupted Dean’s peace of mind and his fragile hold on sobriety. Former patient Mark Schuckman sued Dean for $8,000, claiming that the laser treatments Dean used to remove hair from his back were useless—Dean’s promises of results were bogus. Since laser was not as effective with hair removal on the upper torso as it was on the lower half of the body, it was unclear whether Dean or the technology were at fault. Nonetheless, after months of wrangling, the suit was settled. In addition to attorney fees, Dean had to pay Schuckman $3,250. It was a blow to Dean’s bottom line and to his battle against addiction.

  Again, Dean embraced his old habits of drugs, alcohol and escapism. Again, substance abuse only served to feed the demons and make them stronger.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JASON OPSAHL RETURNED TO NEW YORK IN 1998, HIS REGImen of chemotherapy complete. He stopped by the offices of Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS to offer his services as a volunteer. There he met Peter Borzotta. Peter had heard of Jason and knew of his battle with cancer. He thought Jason seemed thin, even gaunt, and the ravages of chemo were etched into his face. But both his spirits and his energy level were high.

  The two men hit if off right away and soon were seeing each other outside of the BC/EFA offices. As their relationship grew, they opened up about their pasts. Jason told Peter about his previous boyfriend Dean Faiello and how Dean’s problems with drugs destroyed their relationship.

  Jason seemed as healthy as ever, singing and dancing his way back to the stage in the off-Broadway production of Captains Courageous. He performed through the full run of the show in the Manhattan Theatre Club, from its opening on February 16, 1999, to its final curtain less than two months later on April 4.

  That year, Jason was one of the five dancers in a production team assisting the creative process as Jerry Mitchell choreographed routines for The Full Monty. During this project, the dancers often relaxed in the basement. Jason entertained, doing crazy dance routines borrowed from his days at the Disney theme parks. He took those moves over the top, his lean 6’2” body forming joyous contortions as he clowned his way through the impromptu routine. Jerry often joined in. The two men danced until they were laughing so hard they could no longer stand.

  The Full Monty moved to San Diego for a three-month run. Jason, for minor reasons, was not one of the players on the West Coast. But when the show made its triumphant return, he rejoined the cast, earning him his greatest fame. He was a “swing” in this production—always ready to perform any of the five different parts during the eight performances each week.

  On opening night, the honor of the Gypsy Robe fell on his shoulders—a tradition dating back to the 1950 production of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Jason earned his place in this ceremonial celebration as the chorus member with the most Broadway musical show credits.

  Half an hour before curtain, the robe was delivered to his dressing room. He slipped it on and circled the stage three times while cast members surrounded him, reaching out to touch the robe for good luck. Jason then made the traditional tour of each dressing room. Since Full Monty was the first musical to open on Broadway that season, the garment was a plain, full-length dressing gown. After the performance, Jason added a memento from the show to the robe, wrote the opening date and passed it around for cast members to sign. The robe remained in Jason’s custody until opening night of the next musical on Broadway—a revival of The Rocky Horror Show on November 15. At that time, he visited the NSU Theater and bestowed the robe on the new Gypsy.

  The world looked bright for Jason. On September 24, 2001, he took part in Dreamgirls, the one-night twentieth anniversary benefit concert for the Actors’ Fund at the Ford Center for Performing Arts.

  In December 2001, Jason faced a recurrence of his brain cancer. He underwent more surgery. Surviving the risky procedure in the operating room was only the first challenge. Afterwards, he endured round after round of exhausting, nauseating chemotherapy. But Jason never complained. He never whined. He never indulged in selfpity.

  Rosie O’Donnell came to his rescue one more time. While Jason battled his illness, Rosie gave him money for food and rent and helped with his medical bills.

  Jason returned to New York in time for the tenth annual Broadway Bares show, but he was bald and uncomfortable with the appearance of his chemo-ravaged body. The opening song that year, “The Barest Show on Earth,” was a reprise of the opener from the seventh show. Jason performed that song three years earlier—his voice perfect for the number. Jerry Mitchell could not imagine featuring the song again unless Jason performed it. As self-conscious as Jason was about his appearance, he could not say no. He stood before the audience and gave a stellar rendition. Those who knew him were stunned by his incredible strength and determination to carry on in the face of his monumental struggle.

  In the spring of 2002, Jason participated in the 16th Annual Easter Bonnet Competition. A six-week fundraiser for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, designers for Broadway, off-Broadway and touring companies created elaborate bonnets, and the casts created and performed an entertaining presentation.

  Rosie O’Donnell opened the show with 98-year-old showgirl Doris Eaton Travis. When she returned at the end of the show, Jason handed her a large bouquet of flowers and said, “You have been our cheerleader. You’ve been our spokeswoman. Thank you, Rosie.”

  Jason returned to the cast of The Full Monty, performing in the rigorous eight-times-a-week schedule. He took oral chemotherapy drugs at the same time, keeping the show going until the final curtain on September 1, 2002.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DEAN’S LIFE PATH AFTER JASON WAS NOT AS TRAGIC, BUT IT was definitely more dismal. He went to work fewer days than he stayed home, stewing in a blue funk. The more he blew off work, the worse he shattered any hope of attaining financial equilibrium. In 2001, the mortgage payments on his home in Newark were seriously in arrears again. Foreclosure loomed. Dean needed a large infusion of cash to get back on track.

  Meanwhile, Greg wanted some assurance of reimbursement before shelling out more of his money. He proposed that they rent out the third floor of the house, the tenants paying Greg directly to reduce the amount Dean owed him. Dean agreed. The upstairs was rented out to a young married couple, and Greg loaned Dean another $7,000.

  The new loan could have been a sore point for Dean and Greg. After all, Greg did want to be paid back eventually and Dean still frittered away his own money on drugs. Nonetheless, Dean continued to pay $600 each month toward his debt to Greg and the couple got along well.

  To help scrape money together, Dean rented one of the four bedrooms on the second floor to a medical student who was more often at school, the hospital or the library than he was at home. Dean and Greg barely noticed his presence.

  In fact, Dean depended on Greg. He spent work nights in Greg’s apartment and relied on Greg to wake him up and get him off to work. If Greg was not there in the morning to do that, Dean slept through appointments and drove his receptionist to distraction, rescheduling and making excuses.

  When Greg planned his annual escape to the family home on the lake that summer, the receptionist pleaded with him not to go. Greg had close ties to his family and this annual reunion mattered to him a great deal. So in an attempt to keep Dean as sober as possible during Greg’s absence,
Debra stepped in to watch over him. Dean spent his weekends at her home in Milford, New Jersey, and she called Greg’s apartment on workday mornings to get Dean out of bed. Greg and Debra jokingly referred to this arrangement as Dean’s baby-sitting service.

  Dean was still in casual contact with Jason Opsahl in the fall of 2001. Jason told Dean that he was moving from his studio apartment in the high-rise building at 449 West 44th Street to more luxurious digs in a new complex on River Place. Dean knew that residential buildings in New York were required to provide some low-rent housing units. He busied himself with the paperwork needed to qualify and acquire Jason’s old apartment at a discounted rate. He won eligibility, moving in for only $1,550 per month. It was a remarkably low amount for its location and the quality of the unit, but still it was an expense that Dean could ill afford. Sure, it was nicer and roomier than Greg’s crowded place—but he could stay with Greg for free.

  Moving into the West 44th Street apartment created an additional problem: Dean overslept nearly every day. He had the sense to know that there was one appointment he dared not miss—the one with his probation officer. Dean always spent the night before one of these required monthly appearances at Greg’s apartment.

  On a typical work day though, he spent the night at his apartment and arrived late to work. This prompted his receptionist to call Greg and plead with him to wake up Dean and get him into the office. Those demands disrupted Greg’s work day; but still, he walked the fourteen blocks to Dean’s new home to rouse him from bed. He did, after all, have his own financial interests to protect. As long as Dean went to work each day, Greg had a hope of repayment. And as long as they maintained regular contact, there was a possibility of preserving a hold—albeit a tenuous one—on their floundering relationship.