[My Husband's Story]

The following is from the Chicago Sund Times front page, Thursday July 30th, 2005. It is my husband, Aaron's story. Thank you to all of you have responded to my posts in the past. They helped me/us through our struggle. Peace & Love, Caitlin

Chicago Sun Times

A kind heart, a helping hand

June 30, 2005

BY MARK J. KONKOL Staff Reporter

On most nights at Village Tap, Aaron Watkins held court from behind the bar, the

first to greet you when the swing of the door announced your arrival.

Tall and fit with a closely shaven head and stubbly beard, he moderated barstool

debate, shamelessly flirted and always, when you needed it most, offered an

empathetic ear.

Folks came to the Roscoe Village tavern just to enjoy his company. And during more

than eight pint-pouring years there, Watkins found some of his best pals, shared some

of his best times and met his best girl, Caitlin Marcoux, a transplant from

Nantucket.

Village Tap regulars became a "second family'' with Watkins at its center -- a pillar

of a tiny drinking community.

In mid-May, doctors diagnosed Watkins with a rare, aggressive lung cancer. On May 26,

he married his best girl. And on Saturday -- just 30 days later -- his heart stopped

beating.

His death leaves a giant gap in the lives of his barroom loved ones. Wilted flowers

line the sidewalk below photographs and tender messages are taped to the bar window.

On Wednesday, Village Tap mourners gathered at a Lake View loft to celebrate Watkins'

spirit with people from other corners of his life.

Afterward, they marched to Lennox Lounge -- home to much of Watkins' courtship of

Caitlin -- to properly toast his memory.

Buried beneath their grief for this bartender was a thanksgiving for having found

each other in such a giant city.

Although the number of Chicago taverns is smaller than ever -- down from some 7,000

taverns in the late 1940s to 1,283 today -- Watkins' passing reminds us that

shot-and-a-beer joints remain a dear part of city life.

'Better lives' through bars

Chicago taverns, gathering places where working-class folks would discuss the day,

once littered neighborhood corners.

"Bars were very important. They were neighborhood centers providing things that

people could not find in their own homes, even good restrooms. It was a place where

you could collect money for charity, cash a paycheck or escape on warm evenings from

being stuck in hot tenements,'' says University of Illinois at Chicago professor

Perry Duis, author of The Saloon: Public Drinking in Chicago and Boston 1880 to

1920.

The demise of the corner tap here is well-documented, blamed by some on the sale of

beer at supermarkets, the boom of television and the continuing decline of tavern

licenses. Since 1994, 411 tavern licenses have been revoked and 53 ward precincts

have been voted dry since April 1995, city officials said.

They called him the "Zen Bartender.''

Watkins was a tattooed fine artist, bass-playing rocker and martial arts master with

a kind heart who had -- for his most faithful regulars -- a generous pour.

Behind the bar he often shared duties and tips with Alexia Delandry, whom he lovingly

referred to as his "bar wife.''

"He made friends everywhere and talked to everyone,'' Delandry said. "When a boy

broke my heart or when I had to put my kitty down, he was always there.''

Many of the 300 folks who crowded the sweaty, tear-soaked "celebration" Wednesday had

had special encounters with Watkins.

''He picked me up so many times when I needed it. And, no, not from being drunk on

the floor,'' said Village Tap regular Bijal Shah.

And places like Village Tap and counterparts across the city allow Chicagoans an easy

way to make introductions, occasional fist fights aside. "You can open your belt,

relax and socialize at taverns without having to work at it,'' Northwestern

University professor Bernard Beck said.

After Watkins passed, members of the bartender's first and second family met, some

for the first time, at Village Tap.

'A special place'

John Talley manned the bar. "[Aaron's] parents were there Saturday and Sunday and

everybody got to go up to them to say they were sorry. . . . It was a meeting place

for them. They got to soak up the atmosphere and see people walk up and pay tribute

to their son. They said they felt like they were at home, a part of something

special.''

For their son, it was indeed special, fateful even.

Take a quiet September night in 2003, for instance, when a spunky, tattooed blond

from Nantucket walked in.

"We were flirting with each other shamelessly,'' Marcoux-Watkins said. "After I left,

my friend bet me $5 to go back in and give him my number. When I walked in the door,

he threw up his hands. He said he tried to yell after me, but didn't know my name,''

she said.

"He called me the next day . . . Aaron and I weren't big drinkers. This wasn't about

boozing as a lifestyle. The bar was the center of the community and has been for

years. It was a huge part of life, an extremely special place."

Widow left with bills

Watkins' death leaves his 28-year-old widow with a heavy heart and "financial

craziness,'' some $400,000 in medical bills that insurance won't cover, she figures.

Without prompting, though, her barroom in-laws already raised $5,000 to help. And

they're putting together a July 4 motorcycle run to pitch in a little more.

Marcoux-Watkins said she finds comfort in some of her husbands' final words: ''Don't

be afraid.''

"I lucked out. I walked in the right bar at the right time, met the right guy and it

all makes sense to me,'' she says. "This community around me is just so incredible.'

[New here and Scared]

Thanks for all your support guys. After a month of tests at Illinois Masonic, the University of Chicago Hospital and most recently at the Dana-Farber Cancer Center in Boston, Aaron and I are still awaiting his definitive diagnosis...we hope to have one by this afternoon. I think the waiting is the hardest part for us both. Our patience is running thin, as we are anxious for Aaron to start some kind of treatment. His condition is worsening daily- it is becoming more and more difficult for him to breath, and he is less and less inclined to eat (his tumor is pressing on his esophagus). It's hard watching him suffer, and I just hope we here something soon.

Peace & Love,

Caitlin

[Freaked Out Over Insurance]

I just read today that my husband's insurance, a small company called Combined Insurance of America Inc., who farm it's benifit claims out to a company called Administrative Concepts, which he has through school, will only cover up to $50,000 per "incident/sickness"... what with the 5 days at the hospital 2 weeks ago, and the plethora of testing we've gone through at both IL. Masonic and the University of Chicago, we're almost at that ceiling already.

I'm overwhelmed.

Here's a question: since we're still awaiting a definitive diagnosis, do I still have time to find a different insurance provider? Or will he be blindly rejected for having a pre-existing condition.

As I'm already exhausted by the actual disease, how do I begin to deal with the hell that is the financial aspect of this nightmare?

Wow.............

[Husband with Stage IV NSCLC]

Dear bauner95,

My new husband is also dealing with Stage IV NSCLC and is also a non-smoker (34 yrs old). We are stunned, as his cancer has appeared "out of nowhere". Our oncologist says that only 2% of people in the world have the kind of lung cancer he's dealing with, and thus I'm not sure whom to turn to for advice- your story sounds familiar though, so I thought I'd drop you a line.

How are you feeling today?

~CMW

[New here and Scared]

Hello out there. I am new here, and just learning my way around. My new husband, Aaron (Married May 26th, 2005) was diagnosed this week with a Stage IV adenocarcinoma, most likely a Lung Primary, with an 8cm tumor in his lower left lobe and a significant plural effusion. There seem to be several metastic lymph nodes involved in his mediastinem area, and we are waiting to see if a biopsy of his esophagus is necessary to determin possible involment.

Aaron is in much pain, as his thoracic cavity continualy fills up with fluid. We are probably going back to the hospital today to see about draining the fluid, and taking steps to put in a cathater for continued drainage. Because Aaron has been so strong with an extremely high pain tollerance, his whole life (an avid martial artist, yogi, and personal trainer) his cancer advanced to an aggressive stage before we even realized it was there.

Our entire lives have changed overnight- we've gone from a couple of meat eating rock n' rollers to vegan/macrobiotic home-bodies. His parents, my new in-laws, are living on my couch and his brother is moving here from Vegas this weekend. Although I barely recognize our lives at the moment, I will modify whatever I need to and do anything and everything in my power to keep him around as long as I can.

Since this is still new to me I was wondering if anyone out there had some advice............I do not know anyone else who has watched a loved one go thru this, and I feel very alone.

~CMW