Big Daddy...

I am the second of my mother's four kids, with one older sister, one younger brother, and a "baby sister". My dad, God bless him, wasn't too interested in his kids, so I was more or less on my own growing up. I never had that "male influence" in my life. That is...until I went to work for No Fault Industries.

I was hired to be the assistant warehouse manager, and my new boss would turn out to be the closest thing I've ever had to a big brother. His name is Robert Bardsley, but most people refer to him as "Big Daddy". Big Daddy, as the expression goes, has never met a stranger. When meeting somebody for the first time, he grins from ear to ear, throws out his hand, and says, "Hey, Big Daddy!" Robert loves people; he loves conversation, he loves telling jokes, and most of all, he loves his wife.

This may not seem like much until juxtaposed against his "other side". Big Daddy is undoubtedly the toughest man I've ever known. His hands are scarred from years of bar fights, and his brothers (one of whom worked with us) all testified that Big Daddy has never lost a fight. So, you're probably imagining Big Daddy to be 6'2", 240lbs. or so, right? Wrong. Robert stands 5'4", 170lbs. I think the best way to describe someone of his size is "scrappy".

The tales I have heard over the years of Robert's fights, sometimes against two or more opponents at the same time, are not the only reason I consider him to be the toughest man I've ever known. No, there are more horrific things Robert has endured that earn him that title.

Prior to going to work for No Fault Industries, I had been told that Big Daddy was very sick. A brain tumor had been discovered behind his right eye in 1991. The doctors discovered that it would likely be impossible to remove the entire tumor without, at the very least, blinding Robert. So, they cut out what they could and decided to try and kill the rest with aggressive radiation and chemotherapy while giving him no more than five years to live. In case you don't know, radiation treatment is devastating enough all by itself, but, when coupled with chemotherapy, is downright debilitating. Robert continued to come to work until he was physically unable to haul himself out of bed.

Big Daddy missed the better part of a year of work before the remnants of the tumor were gone. During that time, the section of skull the surgeons had removed during his operation died, causing him to endure another operation to have a piece of plastic implanted to replace the dead bone.

After being released by the doctors, he returned to No Fault. Now, being the warehouse manager at No Fault didn't include sitting in an office and directing a warehouse crew. Robert was the crew. He did all of the manual labor, such as unloading truckloads of supplies, keeping the warehouse orderly, cutting the grass, "weed-eating";etc. There were very few easy days.

Robert loves to hunt, and at that time, he was a member at a hunting club in Gross Tete, which is between Baton Rouge and Lafayette. One morning, as he was riding his four-wheeler out to his deer stand, Robert forgot to duck as he passed beneath a section of "drill-pipe". The pipe struck him right on the bridge of his nose, completely crushing it into his face with enough force to drive his head back until it bounced off the rear of the four-wheeler

Now, what Big Daddy did next is one of the reasons he gets my vote for "Toughest Man Alive": He hooked his freaking thumbs into his freaking nostrils and pulled his freaking nose back out of his freaking skull so he could breathe!! What?!?!?!? Luckily, his hunting partners saw the whole thing, and rushed him to the nearest hospital.

Big Daddy's tumor stayed in remission until 2002, when he was forced to begin chemotherapy again. He continued to come to work every day in spite of his weakened condition.

Finally, in 2003, he admitted that he could use some help, and that's where I came in. Robert and I hit it off immediately, and over the next three years, I had more fun at work than at any other time of my life. Robert had fun no matter what menial task he was involved in, and it rubbed off on me. For the first time in my life, I had another man I could really talk to, and who could give me advice about things.

The doctors finally felt comfortable ending Big Daddy's chemotherapy in 2004. The tumor was still there, but it wasn't growing. Times were good. Robert was healthy, strong, and we worked well together...

...until 2005, when he fell 18 feet out of his deer stand and broke his back. So, back into the hospital he went for a solid month. After another several months at home, he came back to work. Most men would have retired long ago, but not Big Daddy. He wasn't nearly as healthy or strong, but he was back, and we were working together again...

...until 2006, when rumors began to surface that the company wasn't doing well. Key members of management began leaving, and Big Daddy decided to retire. Less than six months after his retirement, I was let go. Robert and I only spoke occasionally by phone after that, and I didn't see him until this week.

Unfortunately, I had to go to the hospital to see him. His tumor had begun growing again sometime in late 2007, and, since that time, he has lost the ability to speak as well as the use of the right side of his body, all while undergoing his third round of aggressive chemotherapy. Last week, Robert's wife came home to find him unconscious, and he hasn't woken up since that time.

So, it's come to this... The doctors have told the family that there is nothing else they can do, and they've stopped the chemotherapy. So I'm praying for Big Daddy. I'm praying that, once again, his tumor will shrink, and I'll get one more opportunity to sit and talk with him and thank him for being that "older brother" figure, and for being Big Daddy...