Another Wizard
Christos Georgiades holds many distinguished titles at Johns Hopkins. I remember after meeting him for the first time, I looked at Leroy and said, "Another wizard."
That word is not on his business card, but it could be. Dr. Georgiades introduced us to the world of RFA and Cryoablation. As an intervention radiologist, he came from a different place in the treatment world, and Leroy welcomed his ideas.
As it turned out, the two men connected on many levels.
I met Leroy and Laurie in early 2006. They visited me at Johns Hopkins in search of treatment options for what was termed an untreatable disease: Leroy's already metastatic colon cancer. I did not pay much attention to it, but I did notice that the interaction between Leroy and Laurie was that of a couple who had just met, even though they had been together for some time. They treated each other with friendly care, talked to each other with honest concern, and listened to each other -- really listened.
Being forced to confront one's mortality brings into focus what is really important ... friends, family, honesty. I never told Leroy this, but I have not read his blog. Even as I write this knowing it will be posted on his blog, I probably will not read it. I can't articulate why. Perhaps I feel I failed him, perhaps I want to remember him based on my interactions with him, and perhaps I am afraid of what I will read on his blog ... or perhaps all of these.
People keep telling me that those who treated Leroy gave him a lot of extra time -- good, quality time with his friends and family. Of course I know this is true. In 2006 his prognosis would not have had him see 2007; in 2007 he was told he would not see 2008.
Yet now that Leroy has passed, the knowledge that "I helped him" provides no comfort. If I say it out loud, it even sounds pretentious.
Everyone has a different philosophy about cancer and death. Those who are still healthy, delusional in their temporary immortality, can formulate this philosophy as an academic exercise. The Leroy I knew did not have that luxury, but he saw his incurable cancer as a juncture in his life, not a consuming feature.
And because of that, what defined Leroy was not his cancer, but the way he fought the battle against it. He used it as a springboard to fill a void in countless others who shared his burden, and by doing so he ignited a chain reaction of selfless service and open discussion.
Every interaction with Leroy was a learning experience ... for both of us, I think. Leroy taught me that the effect cancer has on a patient's life depends on the patient himself and his support network. Even when the outcome is predetermined, what matters is the trip, and not the destination.
What Leroy learned from me was much more mundane. A new way to stave off his cancer, some new technology, a new procedure. We even joked once, when I gave him my business card with a few holes punched in and told him, "The tenth procedure is free."
Good times or bad, Leroy never thought of himself first. "These new procedures -- how come they are not available to all? There are thousands who can benefit from this."
I can't remember how many cancer patients, reading Leroy's blog, found out about this, called, and received treatment they would likely not have had otherwise. "I have cancer and I saw Leroy on the Discovery channel ..." is how the conversation usually started.
I wonder if, before he passed, Leroy realized the impact he had on the lives of so many others. Leroy will surely be missed; but his spirit will survive in the memory of those whose burden was lightened by his courage.
-- Laurie
8:47 AM ET | 08-28-2008 | permalink
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