I suppose this blog is meant to talk about Dad's current situation, therefore it would seem that his liver condition defines him. Like so many other people with life-threatening conditions, that is far from the truth. In fact, it's hard to reconcile that someone that I have always looked-up to is in this terrible position through no fault of his own with so much out of his (and my) control. [Yes, friends, I am a control freak. I know.]
It's not fair!
OK, I got that out of my system. For now.
Like so many children, I was fed the "life's not fair" line whenever I kvetched "it's not fair!!". My parents would not just say that life is not fair, though, that concept was ingrained in me. I heard the stories every night at the dinner table about different medical cases. I saw it in the grotesque pictures of the medical journals that were always on display [the dermatology ones were always the most effective, for the record, since that's so tangible to a young girl]. I certainly learned that when I lost my grandmother to a car accident at 11, my grandfather at 19 from complications of cancer, and my closest friend before my senior year of college from a single night of poor decisions. However, I still cannot really comprehend why my Dad is in this position.
I was at my parents' house in California in December going through some paperwork and came across a huge pile of letters and cards written to my Dad over the past several years. There were probably 20 alone written in the past few months. I didn't know many of the people that wrote them, but they were all letters of praise. Letters of genuine gratitude. When was the last time you were moved enough to write a letter to anyone, particularly someone you are not related to, expressing how thankful you are? There are many people in Simi Valley and the surrounding area that are completely terrified that my father will no longer be their physician once he sold his private practice in October. I cannot even imagine how many lives Dad has saved or improved, but those letters begin to demonstrate that he always had such a different relationship with his patients than so many other doctors. He improved their lives, not their complaints. Wouldn't you like to have a relationship with your doctor like that? Wouldn't you like to have relationships with your friends and family like that?
And now this doctor with letters of praise piled high in his house in California is waiting for a liver transplant completely alone in Indiana.
My mazel.
It's not fair!
OK, I got that out of my system. For now.
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| http://iamlegendcrossfit.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-lifes-not-fair-get-over-it.html |
Like so many children, I was fed the "life's not fair" line whenever I kvetched "it's not fair!!". My parents would not just say that life is not fair, though, that concept was ingrained in me. I heard the stories every night at the dinner table about different medical cases. I saw it in the grotesque pictures of the medical journals that were always on display [the dermatology ones were always the most effective, for the record, since that's so tangible to a young girl]. I certainly learned that when I lost my grandmother to a car accident at 11, my grandfather at 19 from complications of cancer, and my closest friend before my senior year of college from a single night of poor decisions. However, I still cannot really comprehend why my Dad is in this position.
I was at my parents' house in California in December going through some paperwork and came across a huge pile of letters and cards written to my Dad over the past several years. There were probably 20 alone written in the past few months. I didn't know many of the people that wrote them, but they were all letters of praise. Letters of genuine gratitude. When was the last time you were moved enough to write a letter to anyone, particularly someone you are not related to, expressing how thankful you are? There are many people in Simi Valley and the surrounding area that are completely terrified that my father will no longer be their physician once he sold his private practice in October. I cannot even imagine how many lives Dad has saved or improved, but those letters begin to demonstrate that he always had such a different relationship with his patients than so many other doctors. He improved their lives, not their complaints. Wouldn't you like to have a relationship with your doctor like that? Wouldn't you like to have relationships with your friends and family like that?
And now this doctor with letters of praise piled high in his house in California is waiting for a liver transplant completely alone in Indiana.
My mazel.
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