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The Barmaid Blog™: Life for a 30-something Manhattan Barmaid

Alan K. (1952-2010)

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Corona Barmaid
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Alan K. (1952-2010)

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Scotch Rocks
A year ago, I had never heard of Hepatosplenic T-Cell Lymphoma. I wish I'd still never heard of it. But about a year ago, my father was diagnosed with it after some routine tests during a physical. They immediately started treating him with a kind of chemotherapy called CHOP-R, and after a couple of months it seemed he was in remission. He celebrated my twenty-ninth birthday with his fiancée Elaine and me in good health and good spirits. But he relapsed in June, and despite aggressive treatment, he was dead within two months.

He died with me on one side of his bed, and Elaine on the other. She and I held each other for a very long time afterward, and we were inseparable at his funeral and while I sat shiva. Given the circumstances under which they'd met each other, I never expected to feel that close to her, but Elaine has one thing going for her: she really loved my father.

Elaine is also a successful physician. On the third day of shiva she told me that she knew Dad had written her into his latest will, but she intended to renounce it because she didn't need it - at least not as much as she figured I needed it.

So at the age of 29, I'm a barmaid in a Pub in Manhattan, I share an apartment in Brooklyn with a roommate and a cat, and I'm about to become the sole owner of a house in Westchester.

And I'm alone.

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