The People Who Make It Worth It
I've worn a "Cancer Sucks" bracelet since Leroy was diagnosed and made his first trip to Hopkins. I've always thought those two words said it all.
I also think a bracelet that says "Chemo Sucks" would work, too. The only thing that made it OK to visit the Hopkins chemo treatment room was that Leroy and I would see Pierse Byrnes. She was Leroy's chemo nurse.
But that job description doesn't do her justice. She was so much more than that. Pierse would take the cancer out of the room for Leroy, and when you're in for chemo, that says a lot.
Secretly, I don't think she'll ever forgive him for winning that basketball pool ... read on, you'll understand what I'm talking about.
Every year, purely for entertainment purposes, of course, our clinic organizes a pool for the March Madness Men's Basketball tournament. Participants run the gamut from nurses, doctors, social workers, technicians, and an occasional patient.Two years ago, after finding my own tournament entry form peaking out from behind a copy of his labwork, Leroy decided that he would like to participate. Which is funny, because Leroy, as far as I knew, really didn't like sports. Our discussions of sports (and Laurie and I had many) typically involved Leroy laughing at my fondness for certain Ravens and Orioles players.
I spent considerable time researching before completing my 3 brackets; Leroy completed his in 3 seconds. Naturally, Leroy won the entire pool that year. Naturally, I placed about 85th out of 110. Not bitter at all, I handed him his winnings in coins.
I tell this story, not to bring to light illegal gambling at Hopkins, but to bring to light my relationship with Leroy. As Laurie said a few days ago, throughout his treatment, we had some really good times.
People often ask me, how do I do my job? And my response is, I LOVE my job.
I love meeting and getting to know my patients. People such as Leroy make me want to come to work every day.The inevitable question that often follows is whether I own stock in Kleenex. Not quite. (Although, ask anyone in my family and they will tell you, I am the family Crier.) My tears are often not for the patient so much as they are for the Lauries, the Kays, the Lizs, Mindys, Dan Jr.s, and the young Alexandras of this world - the family members left behind who have lost their best friend, their rock.
You see, I believe that Leroy is in a better place. He has joined my army of guardian angels and is currently laughing at my new-found interest in Olympic swimming, and puzzling over my yearly obsession with fantasy football.
And Laurie is here, understanding said obsession, but so sad that her best friend is not here for her to attempt (once again) to explain it.
-- Laurie
8:42 AM ET | 08-26-2008 | permalink


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