Stroke of Genius

Fucking irony. As Scott sat on the gurnee they were the only words running through his mind. Just hours ago he was happily in his lab reviewing data. He finished with the last stroke patient for the day and was enjoying the luxury of an extra few moments to crunch numbers.

His research was promising. He already secured funding from multiple sources. He had a few medical students and PhD candidates working for him. Scott was making a name for himself. Early into his career he had given up most of clinical responsibilities. And he felt his research was showing progress. In the last year his data had sharpened. He could feel in his bones that he was close to something big.

Scott had discovered a novel compound that when used on rabbits reversed the most egregious effects of strokes. Rabbits who had been induced to suffer strokes could have their symptoms completely ameliorated. Even if the event occured months before. The coumpound regenerated damaged neurological tissue. Restoring it to its prestroke condition. But safetly data was lacking. And a number of the treated rabbits died prematurely for unknown reasons.

He was so close. He knew he was missing a key concept but just couldn't put his finger on it. He stayed up late at night reviewing the data. Often he would forget to eat because he was so busy. He was losing weight. His family and friends had given up on him. His social life was at a standstill. He was fourty years old and hadn't gone on a date for a year.

And then this. First he felt a heaviness in his right arm and leg. He tried to get up and walk around the lab but he was clumsy. He kept tripping. Then he tried to steady himself on the lab bench. But he couldn't lift his arm. He fell against the bench and then slid to the ground in a seated position. He was alone. He lifted his left arm which was still working and reached towards the table. He clutched at his cell phone. With one hand he gingerly dialed 911...

"Hello....hello..." he fumbled with the phone...

"I think I'm having a stroke!"

Fucking irony

The American Way

Its the American way......I eversogently tiptoe down the linoleum lined hallway of the nursing home. As dawn breaks I listen to the squeek of my new shoes drowned out by the upheavil of the alzheimers ward. The screaming and the cries no longer catch my attention after so many early mornings. Confusion reins as I wipe the fatigue from my eyes after a long weekend on call. Trying to fit in a few quick visits before rushing to the hospital and then the office.

I enter the room quietly and stumble for the bathroom light to shatter the heavy darkness. "Joe....Joe...is that you?". An elderly woman squints through the haziness of sleep. The clock on the side of the bed reads 6am. "No .....no, it's Doctor Grumet." "Oh...I thought you were Joe....where is he?" Joe has been dead for a decade. After having this conversation on multiple visits I no longer correct her.

"So how are you feeling....any pain?" She again squints trying to avoid the light eminating from the half closed bathroom door. She talks with her head pointed slightly to my right, "Oh...doctor.....I can't see! I could see yesterday but now everything is blurry!" The macular degeneration robbed her years ago. But every morning she wakes up with the same tortured sentiment.

I gently rest my hand on her shoulder for comfort. My stethoscope probing her back and then chest. I recognize the same faded night shirt that she wears every day. Over her heart a sticker is gently pealing from the fabric. Someone had obviously decided a pin would be too dangerous.

The words on the sticker pound my eardrums with laughter and mock my own sense of self importance as I drive to the hospital....

"I voted today"

Walking on Water (conclusions)

Derek was so devastated after the funeral that Sarah decided to move back into the house. Her psychiatrist was amazed at how rapidly she was getting better. It was as if the sickness of her child somehow snapped her out of a fog. Or maybe it was Derek's need. She started a new antipsychotic and was doing well. Based on her improvement her diagnosis was changed from schizophrenia to bipolar with psychotic features.

Derek didn't care what you called it. Sarah was back again. She was alive and loving and supportive. And he really needed her. Because he had to find a reason to continue breathing. Jason's death formed a wound on his heart that would never heal. He would wake up in the middle of the night calling his son's name as if he was still in the adjacent room sleeping quietly.

And Derek would find solace in the fact that the world was generous. That other caring human beings would donate a hundred thousand dollars to save his son. That by returning this generosity he could affect others who were desperately in need. His life could have meaning again.

And above all he knew that he had done his best. Because even those who walk on water occasionally find themselves stranded in the middle of the ocean. It was time to grow up. he could either let his sadness drown him or he could learn how to swim. So Derek abandoned his superhuman qualities......

and dove into the merky abyss.

Walking on Water (4)

The problem with bone marrow transplants was the expense. Derek had done his home work. Between doctor and hospital fees he would need about one hundred thousand dollars. Simple..he thought...Jason had good insurance. But ofcourse given the experimental nature of the procedure his insurance categorically denied the request stating the lack of evidence.

So Derek again braced for war. Again he consulted the experts. He had Jason's oncologist write a letter to the insurer. He wote a number of personal letters documenting Jason's struggle and emphasizing that he surely would die without drastic action.

In the meantime he went to religous organizations, the local media, and even the AMA. Anyone who could help was welcomed. He set up a fund at their local bank for donations and Sara helped put together a web site. After a month they had collected twenty five thousand dollars. Not enough....but a start!

The insurane company finally relented and invited Derek to personally present Jason's case to a board of adjucators. As he packed up his materials that morning, he felt mildly optimistic. He had not come this far to fail. He had thirty minutes to win over the hearts and minds of the insurance comany representatives.

Derek's presentation was the perfect mix of science and emotion. He blended the hard data with the soft picture of Jason, his mentally ill mother, and his struggling father. He ended with a short video of Jason himself pleading the case. The jury of ten men and women were visibley shaken. A number of them had tears in their eyes. As Derek left the room to allow them to deliberate he felt he had reasonable odds.

Fifteen minutes later he was summoned back to the small room. It was decided that the insurance company would not cover the transplant given its experimental nature. However, Jason's case would be sent for review to the charitable branch of the company which may consider donating to the cause.

Derek's sadness and dissapointemnt were brief.....the next day he recieved a check for the remaining seventy five thousand dollars.

Looking back, Derek would remember this as the highpoint of his struggle. He had walked on water. He had accomplished the impossible.. That night he picked up Sarah and Jason from the hospital. They went out for pizza. It was one of Jason's good days.

Jason eventually recieved the bone marrow transplant.

When it failed to eradicate the cancer he was enrolled in hospice.

He died a month later at home with Derek and Sarah at his bedside.

The Power of One

I wrote this in highschool. Its kind of simple but I like it. I almost never use rhyme in my poetry. I always was fond of the saying....My body is a temple.

The Power of One

My body is a temple

My mind is my god

My heart is a prayerbook

Its expression my facade

Walking on Water (3)

When a person hears the word cancer directed towards him for the first time it's like a dagger thrust through his innerds. It's sharp. It hurts. It leaves a gaping hole. When a person hears the word cancer directed towards his beautiful 10 year old son..... it eviscerates him. It turns his world upside down.

Vertigo.......thats what Derek called it. From the moment the word left the doctor's mouth his world started to spin. And he had not been able to regain stable footing since. He struggled for composure....for Jason's sake. He tried to remain calm. But he lost his ability to eat. He couldn't sleep. He constantly felt nauseous. And the spinning overtook him. It was not his head that bothered him so much....but his heart.

The upheavel remained until the day, weeks later, that he decided to take control. After many restless nights of tossing and turning in bed, he finally got up and went to the computer. What he found on the internet amazed him. Hundreds of pages documenting cases similar to Jason's. Thousands of research papers cited. The doctor said the prognosis was poor. But maybe....just maybe there was something new to be found. New research....a new doctor....a new chance.

As Derek's hope rose, Jason's health deteriorated. The chemotherapy had made him sick. He was hospitalized twice for dehydration and low blood counts. His spirits were low. But Derek couldn't tame his need for optimism. He contacted multiple experts in the field. Talked to families with children in the same situation. He couldn't shake the desperate belief that there was something that would snatch Jason from death's clutches.

And one early morning....as the sun started to rise on yet another sleepless night...Derek came to the answer. In an obscure medical journal...a small case study had found a successful treatment. It was a long shot, Derek thought to himself, but it might just work.

Before thinking about it he picked up the phone and dialed Sarah's number. They had been talking alot lately. She was improving.

As Sarah answered the phone Derek hurriedly interrupted her. He couldn't contain himself.....

he had found a way to save their boy.

Walking on Water (2)

How can a father explain how he feels for a son? How can he put together a series of words that adequately describes the mix of love, fear, and absolute desperation involved in being a parent. How the sum total of a man's dreams become bundled into those little hands and feet. And how the idea of that boy experiencing pain is anathema.

Derek remembered falling in love with his wife. He remembered the stomache churning roller coaster ride of emotion. How could his feelings be so strong?.... He never believed that he could feel love so true again. But then Jason was born. It started so small. Just a twinge of pride and disbelelief.

Yet over time the twinge became a monster. Derek had swooned for Sarah. His love for her had kept him awake at night. But his son...his love for his son ripped him apart from the insides. Tore him to peices and laid him bare on the cold concrete. Broken...yet still conscious of his helplessness. And strangely enough...still wanting more. It was the kind of love that we all hoped for...it was the kind that ruined you.

Derek's biggest fear was that Jason would become ill like his mother. The idea of watching his son battle schizophrenia was horrifying. And it could happen at anytime. But as the years passed, Derek's fears lessened. Jason was 10 years old and thriving. A cold here....some stitches there...no big deal. He was such a good boy.

So when Jason began to lose weight and feel tired, Derek thought that it was something routine.

It certainly wasn't schizophrenia......