flatfish
03-31-2007, 06:08 PM
Subject: MASTER DENTIST FALLS VICTIM TO CJD
Date: March 31, 2007 at 1:27 pm PST
'In the hands of God'
Thursday, March 29, 2007
By CRYSTAL HARMON
TIMES WRITER
Dr. Gregory J. Bever, 54, died Tuesday morning, at his home on Linwood Beach, surrounded by his family. His death was the result of a rare neurological malady called Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. It struck suddenly and progressed rapidly.
Greg's sense of humor and selfless attitude persevered until the end, loved ones say.
Those who knew Greg best say he lived his life according to his heart's desires, mastering the endeavors he enjoyed most. He was a family man, a master dentist, a guitar player, a hockey booster and a sharp-shooter.
''He never denied himself anything,'' his wife, Lynne, says. ''He balanced his band, his work, the gun club. He loved his practice, his patients, and he did what he loved.''
Says brother Michaell Bever, of Atlanta, Ga.: ''He was focused on his family, his kids and his wife.''
He made time for others, leading groups of kids on Jet-Ski outings, or taking in relatives who needed temporary shelter. ''I never have known any human being that is so generous,'' Michaell says.
Molly Ballor, who's been office manager for Bever's practice for 22 years, says the staff at the bustling practice was part of his family, too.
''We feel like we've been kicked in the stomach,'' she said Tuesday. ''But we're doing what he'd want us to do: We're taking care of our patients.''
nnn
When Greg returned from the Mayo Clinic less than a month ago, word spread about the gravity of his condition, and well-wishers came calling at a rate of 30 to 40 a day.
Page 2 of 10
Pharmacist Tom Zsenyuk, Greg's best friend since they were freshmen at the University of Detroit, came from California.
''He was a special guy, very happy-go-lucky guy, and everybody liked him,'' Zsenyuk says. ''We used to play jokes on each other, and it was even better if there was a third party befooled.''
The two friends didn't speak of the illness during their final visit.
''It was just amazing to see him surrounded by so much love, from his family, his extended family,'' Zsenyuk says. ''I gave him a guitar pick that said 'We'll be friends forever.'''
The outpouring from friends and neighbors did not let up.
Greg was touched by the displays of friendship, but retained his levity.
''He turned to me and said, 'Lynne, this funeral is taking too long,''' says his wife of 26 years.
It's that sense of humor that's helped Greg and his family - which includes Gregory Jr., 19, a sophomore at Albion College; and All Saints students Alyson, 16, and Ian, 14 - face the grim diagnosis with grace.
''They're strong,'' Lynne says. ''They'll get through this.''
nnn
Page 3 of 10
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, according to the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention, strikes one person in a million worldwide.
The diagnosed disease was ''sporadic,'' which means it was not caused by anything that researchers have been able to pinpoint. It is not contagious. Most patients live less than a year after diagnosis, experts say.
For some unknown reason, proteins in CJD patients' brains fold in upon themselves, becoming something doctors call ''prions,'' and eat away at the healthy brain tissue.
Saturday, discussing her husband's illness with a Times reporter, Lynne held a brain-scan transparency up on a living room window overlooking the Saginaw Bay.
''You can see it so clearly when you know what you're looking for,'' she says, indicating porous-looking edges and an almost triangle-shaped white spot on the brain's right lobe. ''It turns brain tissue into sponge.''
nnn
Looking back, Lynne says, Greg's first symptoms probably appeared during a 10-day sailing trip to the British Virgin Islands in January. The first three days of the trip marked the first time the couple vacationed apart from their children since the first one came along 20 years ago.
Then the entire crew of family and friends arrived, and the group chartered three sailboats for a weeklong Caribbean island-hopping adventure. The sailing was rough, the weather hot, and the sleeping quarters were cramped.
''Greg's job was to man one side of the ropes, something he's done many times before,'' Lynne says. ''But he really couldn't do it. He'd loosen when he was supposed to tighten, or tighten when he was supposed to release. I thought, 'Wow, this lack of sleep is really affecting him.' He just kind of laughed it off.''
After returning to Linwood, Greg canceled his dental appointments and tried to get some rest.
Page 4 of 10
But his confusion persisted, so Greg drove himself to the emergency room at Beaumont Hospital in Troy.
Doctors there said Greg had suffered a stroke.
But his symptoms grew worse. He was sleeping 20 hours a day. He began having odd twitches and spasms, first with a thumb, then the whole hand. His arm torqued wildly one day when he and Lynne were sitting on the couch.
''What just happened?'' he asked her.
By early February, Greg's weight loss had reached 30 pounds. But a doctor assured the Bevers that within weeks, maybe months, he'd be back to normal.
After a Valentine's Day return to Beaumont, where more tests and a change of medication were ordered, Lynne says she became a bit pushy. She wanted an answer. She wanted her husband well.
The doctors said they had nothing more to offer.
nnn
One day toward the end of February, Lynne took Greg to the emergency room in Midland. A neurologist told Lynne that the lesion on the left side of Greg's brain was not from a stroke.
''It could be Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease,'' the neurologist said.
Page 5 of 10
A referral was made to Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minn.
Lynne packed her bags with two weeks of clothes. Surely, she thought, it's something else. Maybe Parkinson's, something curable. Or at least treatable.
''They were going to find out what was wrong with him, and he'd get some intensive rehab,'' she says, recalling her mindset as she made plans to go to Minnesota.
When they arrived in Rochester, they were met by a man who'd been arranged by Lynne's employer, AstraZeneca Pharmaceuticals, to rush them to the hospital. Greg's stiffness and uncontrolled movements had grown worse.
''Doctors and nurses were all over him, like something from a movie,'' Lynne says.
Doctors tried three different medications, to no avail. Greg spun and thrashed in the bed, asking ''What's happening to me?''
A day later, a brain scan led doctors at Mayo to diagnose CJD, Lynne says. It's fatal, doctors told them. There is no treatment, no cure.
''I guess it sucks to be me,'' Greg responded, mostly to break the tension in the room.
Doctors were concerned about Greg's rapid deterioration.
''How close are your kids?'' one asked.
Page 6 of 10
nnn
A few phone calls later, the Bever children, along with Lynne's brother, John Zessin were on a small plane, piloted by one of Greg's dental patients and family friend Mark VanBenschoten. Through snow squalls, they sped across Lake Michigan toward their father.
The teens already knew their dad was sick.
''What you don't know is that there's no cure for this disease,'' the doctor said. ''He's going to die.''
CONTINUED
Date: March 31, 2007 at 1:27 pm PST
'In the hands of God'
Thursday, March 29, 2007
By CRYSTAL HARMON
TIMES WRITER
Dr. Gregory J. Bever, 54, died Tuesday morning, at his home on Linwood Beach, surrounded by his family. His death was the result of a rare neurological malady called Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. It struck suddenly and progressed rapidly.
Greg's sense of humor and selfless attitude persevered until the end, loved ones say.
Those who knew Greg best say he lived his life according to his heart's desires, mastering the endeavors he enjoyed most. He was a family man, a master dentist, a guitar player, a hockey booster and a sharp-shooter.
''He never denied himself anything,'' his wife, Lynne, says. ''He balanced his band, his work, the gun club. He loved his practice, his patients, and he did what he loved.''
Says brother Michaell Bever, of Atlanta, Ga.: ''He was focused on his family, his kids and his wife.''
He made time for others, leading groups of kids on Jet-Ski outings, or taking in relatives who needed temporary shelter. ''I never have known any human being that is so generous,'' Michaell says.
Molly Ballor, who's been office manager for Bever's practice for 22 years, says the staff at the bustling practice was part of his family, too.
''We feel like we've been kicked in the stomach,'' she said Tuesday. ''But we're doing what he'd want us to do: We're taking care of our patients.''
nnn
When Greg returned from the Mayo Clinic less than a month ago, word spread about the gravity of his condition, and well-wishers came calling at a rate of 30 to 40 a day.
Page 2 of 10
Pharmacist Tom Zsenyuk, Greg's best friend since they were freshmen at the University of Detroit, came from California.
''He was a special guy, very happy-go-lucky guy, and everybody liked him,'' Zsenyuk says. ''We used to play jokes on each other, and it was even better if there was a third party befooled.''
The two friends didn't speak of the illness during their final visit.
''It was just amazing to see him surrounded by so much love, from his family, his extended family,'' Zsenyuk says. ''I gave him a guitar pick that said 'We'll be friends forever.'''
The outpouring from friends and neighbors did not let up.
Greg was touched by the displays of friendship, but retained his levity.
''He turned to me and said, 'Lynne, this funeral is taking too long,''' says his wife of 26 years.
It's that sense of humor that's helped Greg and his family - which includes Gregory Jr., 19, a sophomore at Albion College; and All Saints students Alyson, 16, and Ian, 14 - face the grim diagnosis with grace.
''They're strong,'' Lynne says. ''They'll get through this.''
nnn
Page 3 of 10
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, according to the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention, strikes one person in a million worldwide.
The diagnosed disease was ''sporadic,'' which means it was not caused by anything that researchers have been able to pinpoint. It is not contagious. Most patients live less than a year after diagnosis, experts say.
For some unknown reason, proteins in CJD patients' brains fold in upon themselves, becoming something doctors call ''prions,'' and eat away at the healthy brain tissue.
Saturday, discussing her husband's illness with a Times reporter, Lynne held a brain-scan transparency up on a living room window overlooking the Saginaw Bay.
''You can see it so clearly when you know what you're looking for,'' she says, indicating porous-looking edges and an almost triangle-shaped white spot on the brain's right lobe. ''It turns brain tissue into sponge.''
nnn
Looking back, Lynne says, Greg's first symptoms probably appeared during a 10-day sailing trip to the British Virgin Islands in January. The first three days of the trip marked the first time the couple vacationed apart from their children since the first one came along 20 years ago.
Then the entire crew of family and friends arrived, and the group chartered three sailboats for a weeklong Caribbean island-hopping adventure. The sailing was rough, the weather hot, and the sleeping quarters were cramped.
''Greg's job was to man one side of the ropes, something he's done many times before,'' Lynne says. ''But he really couldn't do it. He'd loosen when he was supposed to tighten, or tighten when he was supposed to release. I thought, 'Wow, this lack of sleep is really affecting him.' He just kind of laughed it off.''
After returning to Linwood, Greg canceled his dental appointments and tried to get some rest.
Page 4 of 10
But his confusion persisted, so Greg drove himself to the emergency room at Beaumont Hospital in Troy.
Doctors there said Greg had suffered a stroke.
But his symptoms grew worse. He was sleeping 20 hours a day. He began having odd twitches and spasms, first with a thumb, then the whole hand. His arm torqued wildly one day when he and Lynne were sitting on the couch.
''What just happened?'' he asked her.
By early February, Greg's weight loss had reached 30 pounds. But a doctor assured the Bevers that within weeks, maybe months, he'd be back to normal.
After a Valentine's Day return to Beaumont, where more tests and a change of medication were ordered, Lynne says she became a bit pushy. She wanted an answer. She wanted her husband well.
The doctors said they had nothing more to offer.
nnn
One day toward the end of February, Lynne took Greg to the emergency room in Midland. A neurologist told Lynne that the lesion on the left side of Greg's brain was not from a stroke.
''It could be Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease,'' the neurologist said.
Page 5 of 10
A referral was made to Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minn.
Lynne packed her bags with two weeks of clothes. Surely, she thought, it's something else. Maybe Parkinson's, something curable. Or at least treatable.
''They were going to find out what was wrong with him, and he'd get some intensive rehab,'' she says, recalling her mindset as she made plans to go to Minnesota.
When they arrived in Rochester, they were met by a man who'd been arranged by Lynne's employer, AstraZeneca Pharmaceuticals, to rush them to the hospital. Greg's stiffness and uncontrolled movements had grown worse.
''Doctors and nurses were all over him, like something from a movie,'' Lynne says.
Doctors tried three different medications, to no avail. Greg spun and thrashed in the bed, asking ''What's happening to me?''
A day later, a brain scan led doctors at Mayo to diagnose CJD, Lynne says. It's fatal, doctors told them. There is no treatment, no cure.
''I guess it sucks to be me,'' Greg responded, mostly to break the tension in the room.
Doctors were concerned about Greg's rapid deterioration.
''How close are your kids?'' one asked.
Page 6 of 10
nnn
A few phone calls later, the Bever children, along with Lynne's brother, John Zessin were on a small plane, piloted by one of Greg's dental patients and family friend Mark VanBenschoten. Through snow squalls, they sped across Lake Michigan toward their father.
The teens already knew their dad was sick.
''What you don't know is that there's no cure for this disease,'' the doctor said. ''He's going to die.''
CONTINUED