My Hero
My uncle is 41. He has Lou Gherig’s Disease, and we’re told that he probably won’t live long enough to see his 43rd birthday. How do you wrap your head around something like that? How do you accept that a man who just a few years ago was a body builder, built yachts, and did logging on the side in Upstate New York is now unable to lift himself out of his wheelchair?
Though it’s made me a stronger person, sometimes I wonder why I made the decision to move 1400 miles away from my whole family to go to school. I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like to, and I’m starting to feel like I’m missing out on a lot that’s going on in their lives. But the time I am able to spend with them is that much more special.
This year, I made sure to spend a few extra days in New York for Thanksgiving break… just to give myself a little extra time to make some memories. The afternoon I flew in, my mom and dad and I headed straight from the airport to my uncle’s house for dinner. I hadn’t seen him since Easter of this year, and the progression of his disease really took me back. When I saw him last, his muscles were obviously beginning to atrophy but he was still able to walk and remain fairly autonomous. But now he can’t open his hand enough to shake mine, and he doesn’t have the strength of coordination to stand up anymore. Yet even still the man never ceases to amaze me. I think he could tell that I was upset to see him in such a condition and when I went to shake his hand hello, he pushed it aside and pulled me in for a hug. I am absolutely amazed at the positive attitude he continues to keep despite a situation that really doesn’t lend itself to hope.
There’s no cure for this. There’s no therapy, no chemo, no surgery that could potentially make things better for him. All they can do is manage his pain. I can’t accept that. He and I e-mail each other every once in a while, and even though I’m not even close to being a pharmacist yet he asks my opinion on the medications he’s on and likes to have me explain to him how they work (to the best of my ability).
I could sit here and feel sorry for him, and for myself, and my aunt and my father, but what good is that going to do? More than any other single event in my life, this situation has motivated me to do the best I can in school so that I can pursue a career in medicine. I recognize that there is nothing that I can do for my Uncle Dave now other than just talk to him and try to comfort him and just listen to him because at this point there really isn’t any hope anymore. But I promise him that I will use the gifts I’ve been given to help other families who are dealing with similar situations.
I’d love to go into pharmaceutical research and find a cure for this disease, and be able to prevent thousands of other nephews from having to accept that their uncle quite possible will not be able to see them graduate from college. But I’m also realistic. For now, I try in my own way to try and provide compassion to the families and patients who come into my pharmacy to collect medications for similarly debilitating diseases. And I’ll bust my ass in school to get into Pharmacy school, and from there either continue to provide knowledge and compassion in a community pharmacy or get into the research at the cutting edge of pharmaceutical science. That’s the best that I can do.
I’m thankful for every minute I still get to spend with him, and even more thankful for each silly forwarded e-mail I get from him that show he’s still keeping his spirits up. He’s my hero, and he’s inspired and motivated me more than anybody else ever has.
