A year ago, I never would have expected to wish for more kindness in my life than anything else. The nurse, Suzy, is a prime example of a understanding human being. She helped me through many a tough time, especially when I began to feel as though I was loosing control of the situation. Who would have thought breaking a popsicle would be such a bonding experience?
Yes, that's true, Susie taught me a thing or two about sympathy. I was very grateful that she was the one to tell me about my "code plan" choices for if my heart stopped. But her sugar coated diction was just too much for me. I can't deal with compassion if it comes with such a frivolous friend.
I wonder what would have happened if I'd shown a bit more compassion to Jason when he was a student? Maybe if I'd given him an extension on that paper because of his grandmother's death, he would have been more sympathetic to my cause.
Now that makes no sense. Jason didn't have it in for me, what happened was pure accident.
Oh really? He knew what he was doing when he called in the blue code. When Susie tried to fight him, he justified it by calling me research. That sure shows what he thought of me.
Okay, so maybe he did know what he was doing. Can you really judge him?
No, I would have done the same thing. But I have to say, I'm very surprised that this is what I''m thinking about after I die. I thought I would spend my time pondering Donne's poetry.
But I did that so much in life. Remember, one of your last thoughts was a daydream about Professor Ashford reading you that book from your childhood. That's a pretty sentimental end to the story.
I wonder what it's going to be like now that I'm dead, and Donne isn't on my mind.
I think we've got some time to figure that out.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Diary (pgs 28-56)
Dear Diary,
This week has been tough on me, and not just physically. I do not feel at home in this hospital, and I've been separated from the world of literature for too long. In the midst of my desperation, I've even gone so far as to replace the comforting wit of the great John Donne with my own fabricated puns and plays on words, if that gives you any idea how I'm doing.
The doctors have put me on the full doses of medicine for this cancer treatment. It is certainly teaching me a thing or two about humility. I have a theory that eventually I'm going to puke my brains out, and the vultures that I call colleagues will seize the opportunity to advance their own positions, perhaps through a commemorative combination of their works. I will be on the edge of my seat waiting for that publication.
After such a long day at the hospital I feel more like a petri dish that a person. As well meaning as he is, Jason's poking and prodding and his attempt to display me to his fellow doctors is stressing me out all the more. I'm also a little bit concerned that I'm on the highest dosage possible for the medicine because of Jason's ego, not to better my health.
I was put in an isolation room because my immune system is affected by the treatment. Just when I was reaching a fascinating point in my lecture in the isolation room, Susie hauled me off for more tests. What can I say, I just love how those tests make me feel!
Finally, I'd like to share with you something I learned today. The cancerous cells in my body can keep replicating themselves. Those cells are basically immortal, whereas I may only have a few days left to live. That sure puts things into perspective.
Sincerely,
Vivian
This week has been tough on me, and not just physically. I do not feel at home in this hospital, and I've been separated from the world of literature for too long. In the midst of my desperation, I've even gone so far as to replace the comforting wit of the great John Donne with my own fabricated puns and plays on words, if that gives you any idea how I'm doing.
The doctors have put me on the full doses of medicine for this cancer treatment. It is certainly teaching me a thing or two about humility. I have a theory that eventually I'm going to puke my brains out, and the vultures that I call colleagues will seize the opportunity to advance their own positions, perhaps through a commemorative combination of their works. I will be on the edge of my seat waiting for that publication.
After such a long day at the hospital I feel more like a petri dish that a person. As well meaning as he is, Jason's poking and prodding and his attempt to display me to his fellow doctors is stressing me out all the more. I'm also a little bit concerned that I'm on the highest dosage possible for the medicine because of Jason's ego, not to better my health.
I was put in an isolation room because my immune system is affected by the treatment. Just when I was reaching a fascinating point in my lecture in the isolation room, Susie hauled me off for more tests. What can I say, I just love how those tests make me feel!
Finally, I'd like to share with you something I learned today. The cancerous cells in my body can keep replicating themselves. Those cells are basically immortal, whereas I may only have a few days left to live. That sure puts things into perspective.
Sincerely,
Vivian
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Letter (pgs 1- 28)
Dear Professor E.M. Ashford,
I find that my present location will surprise you to no end. At this very moment, I am seated in the waiting room of a Dr. Kelekian, who at his best is a benighted fellow with a lacking bedside manner. Even I, a thoroughly disconnected individual, could better deliver a difficult collection of bad news. And what is this bad news you ask?
Well Professor, it appears that I have advanced ovarian cancer. Dr. Kelekian told me, in some uncertain words, that my only hope is to undergo chemotherapy. A young man who used to be a student of mine, Dr. Jason Posner, collected information on my medical history. This ailment appears to be almost unstoppable, and I have been forced to face the fact that I do not have much time left. I have never felt quite so vulnerable before in my life.
My entire career, I have hidden behind wit and complex prose in the hope of building up defenses to the rest of the world. Every time I have corrected someone's grammar or questioned their word choice, it was in an effort to separate myself from the self-absorbed problems of a routine life. Somewhere, in my attempts to remove myself from frivolous difficulties, I have forgotten what it means to experience the world around me.
I feel that a part of my subconscious has come to the realization that I do not know much about the world, but I plan to educate myself on it. Now that I am faced with a shortened frame of time, I have to dissemble the walls of literature and education that I have so carefully built around myself. Not to say that literature is unimportant. Forgive me Professor. I merely mean that it is time that I form a human relationship besides ours of written correspondence. I had always thought that the education that I received from you concerning Donne's Holy Sonnets would be the most valuable I ever obtained, but I am growing more and more doubtful of that. As important as Donne and his writing is to me, perhaps there is something more out there.
I hope to keep you informed on my findings.
Sincerely,
Vivian Bearing
Edson, Margaret. W;t. Boston: 1999. Print.
I find that my present location will surprise you to no end. At this very moment, I am seated in the waiting room of a Dr. Kelekian, who at his best is a benighted fellow with a lacking bedside manner. Even I, a thoroughly disconnected individual, could better deliver a difficult collection of bad news. And what is this bad news you ask?
Well Professor, it appears that I have advanced ovarian cancer. Dr. Kelekian told me, in some uncertain words, that my only hope is to undergo chemotherapy. A young man who used to be a student of mine, Dr. Jason Posner, collected information on my medical history. This ailment appears to be almost unstoppable, and I have been forced to face the fact that I do not have much time left. I have never felt quite so vulnerable before in my life.
My entire career, I have hidden behind wit and complex prose in the hope of building up defenses to the rest of the world. Every time I have corrected someone's grammar or questioned their word choice, it was in an effort to separate myself from the self-absorbed problems of a routine life. Somewhere, in my attempts to remove myself from frivolous difficulties, I have forgotten what it means to experience the world around me.
I feel that a part of my subconscious has come to the realization that I do not know much about the world, but I plan to educate myself on it. Now that I am faced with a shortened frame of time, I have to dissemble the walls of literature and education that I have so carefully built around myself. Not to say that literature is unimportant. Forgive me Professor. I merely mean that it is time that I form a human relationship besides ours of written correspondence. I had always thought that the education that I received from you concerning Donne's Holy Sonnets would be the most valuable I ever obtained, but I am growing more and more doubtful of that. As important as Donne and his writing is to me, perhaps there is something more out there.
I hope to keep you informed on my findings.
Sincerely,
Vivian Bearing
Edson, Margaret. W;t. Boston: 1999. Print.
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