Today I said my final goodbyes to my friend, my doctor. It was bittersweet because like most of the other deaths this year, Prince, Phife, Doug it didn't have to be.....
I am not sure of what the cause of death was, but I am willing to bet my last born, that it was a heart attack.
He was overweight. We often joked about it as his belly got more oval and there was no more letting out of his pants. He was good with life. So happy and content with his wife and his boys. And his bonus daughter whom he treated as his own. He was like if something happens to me, my family will be good. I remember wishing everyone could be doted on in the fashion that he doted on his family. The last time we spoke was in August. I always made my appointments in August so that I could remember to get the date of the cookout. I scolded him more harshly this time about his weight because the loss of our dear compadre, his colleague, my former colleague, mentor and friend was still sending me into bouts of tears. I told him I didn't care if he thought it was good for the pushing or his love weight, that I needed him to get it off because it was unhealthy and I didn't want our esteemed university to throw him a piss poor sendoff like they did the Macman. Oh how I miss my boo more today than ever before. He told me that we both weren't going anywhere and he would see me at the cookout.
That was August. I didn't go to the cookout, I wasn't feeling up to it. This is April. I still can't believe he is dead. I wonder if he thought he was invincible because he was a doctor. I don't know.
At his funeral, I was already emotional, because I knew that at the stroke of midnight it would be the 16th anniversary of the first time I became a mother. And three weeks later, the anniversary of the second time I became a mother. But, nothing prepared me for the emotion I would feel when my most favorite doctor walked in. I nearly lost my mind. I had to fight back the tears as I embraced the man that restored my faith in the broken system we call life. He looked as handsome as ever. He was like a rockstar of sorts. Everybody was beyond elated to see him.
I remember the last time I saw him and so did he because we were both in bad shape. I couldn't feel my limbs and some more things and he, he was wearing stress on his face, which wasn't like him. I remember our conversation verbatim. I told him that he looked bad and that he needed to cash in on some of his sick leave. I told him that I was serious that he needed to stop running himself so raggedy and worrying about everyone and take care of himself. I told him that he needed to get some rest because in the decade plus that I had known him, he had never wore the stress on his face. Two days later he was airlifted to another hospital with conflicting reports running through the hospital. He had a stroke. He had a brain aneurysm. He was near death. blah blah blah. I stopped going to the doctor after he got sick and left. He tried to come back numerous times, with me scheduled in as his first patient and each time he tried, he had a setback and didn't make it. He was the reason I didn't sue the hospital 16 years ago and the reason that I was able to successfully become a mother for the third and final time 3 years later.
So it was definitely bittersweet to see him. He listened and lived. The other did not and died.
16 years I have been pushing....and for 16 more I will keep trying. Life is about choices and what comes with the choices we have made. For most of those 16 years, I decided not to live and to let depression and sadness consume me. The result of all of that stress is why I am fighting to see another day, everyday today.
Today, because it is now past midnight, I will choose to celebrate all of the wonderful things that came out of that pain 16 years ago. Like the friendships of some incredible doctors, two of whom have left me too soon but one that is still here showing me that if you choose wisely, you can beat the odds.