Let's Relight This Candle
January 01, 2009 09:15 AM
Okay, it’s a new year, and I’m ready for my own fresh
start. And I’m starting with my poor neglected blog.
I’ll start with a story of how amazingly lucky I am, and yes, I think this will be the last time I mention my medical treatments in December.
I realized early on in the treatments, that this was, in fact, a rare opportunity. I mean, when was the last time I was told to sit in a chair for three hours and do nothing? And I couldn’t foresee the next time this would happen again. So for many of the days, I brought along my drawing supplies and made great progress on the latest Oliver and Amélie comic. It made the time there go a bit faster.
But on the last day I was just done. I didn’t want to draw, I didn’t want to chat with the other patients. I closed my eyes, pushed my reclining chair fully back, cranked up my iPod and simply waited for the time to pass. Well, about fifteen minutes later, there was a tap on my foot. I opened my eyes to see the entire nursing staff of the infusion center standing around my chair. They presented me with a signed card, a bottle of champaign, a photograph of the team, and too many kind words.
It turns out that when you spend a little bit of every day sticking needles into someone, it becomes a kind of grounds for intimacy. And the truth is, I grew very fond of the staff at UCSF. And, it turns out that they felt the same way about me.
I was an unusual case for them. You see, most patients at the infusion center were getting doses of chemotherapy. And they came in one day every three weeks or so. So it was unusual for the staff to see someone every single day for a month. And even after only just a few days, I already felt like part of the family there. I used to joke that I should start picking up my mail there.
And I really will miss seeing them. They are the most extraordinary people working every day with patients who were much worse off than I was. So thank you Michelle and Pauline and Bruce and Marisa, and everyone at UCSF. I’m a lucky guy to have been helped by such an amazing team.
I’ll start with a story of how amazingly lucky I am, and yes, I think this will be the last time I mention my medical treatments in December.
I realized early on in the treatments, that this was, in fact, a rare opportunity. I mean, when was the last time I was told to sit in a chair for three hours and do nothing? And I couldn’t foresee the next time this would happen again. So for many of the days, I brought along my drawing supplies and made great progress on the latest Oliver and Amélie comic. It made the time there go a bit faster.
But on the last day I was just done. I didn’t want to draw, I didn’t want to chat with the other patients. I closed my eyes, pushed my reclining chair fully back, cranked up my iPod and simply waited for the time to pass. Well, about fifteen minutes later, there was a tap on my foot. I opened my eyes to see the entire nursing staff of the infusion center standing around my chair. They presented me with a signed card, a bottle of champaign, a photograph of the team, and too many kind words.
It turns out that when you spend a little bit of every day sticking needles into someone, it becomes a kind of grounds for intimacy. And the truth is, I grew very fond of the staff at UCSF. And, it turns out that they felt the same way about me.
I was an unusual case for them. You see, most patients at the infusion center were getting doses of chemotherapy. And they came in one day every three weeks or so. So it was unusual for the staff to see someone every single day for a month. And even after only just a few days, I already felt like part of the family there. I used to joke that I should start picking up my mail there.
And I really will miss seeing them. They are the most extraordinary people working every day with patients who were much worse off than I was. So thank you Michelle and Pauline and Bruce and Marisa, and everyone at UCSF. I’m a lucky guy to have been helped by such an amazing team.