Dear Friends --
One of the curious things about time in the Covid Cave is that you might find yourself chatting with your kids on the couch, and one of them might suggest watching Lord of the Rings for like the 12th time. That makes complete sense. But it's only inside the Covid Cave that you decide it makes even better sense to splurge $47.99 to buy the Director's Extended Cut for the entire trilogy. That's right -- for nearly $50 you too can own what amounts to about 400 hours of Lord of the Rings. Best $47.99 we've ever spent.
Lucy made it through about the first hour. Connor and I hung in there all the way to Mordor, and then back again to the Shire. We still can barely keep any of the characters' names straight, but I bet by the end of the quarantine we'll even have that nailed.
Ok beyond all the new nuggets of LOTR deleted scenes that we now own outright, there's some exciting news to share. When I last wrote, I had some encouraging scans (or at least not discouraging scans), smiles behind masks, and consensus that we needed to get back on track to remove the Itty Bitty from my lung.
Faithful readers will remember that oncologists and thoracic surgeons like to call the Itty Bitty the Met. And so I'm happy to report we have a date scheduled for my small lung surgery: The Met Gala will be Friday May 8th.
Super faithful readers will wonder if my date to The Met Gala will be the ever impressive and most decorated Dr S from Stanford. In fact, no. I have a new date! Instead, my thoracic surgeon is the extraordinarily astute and most excellent Dr. K(2) from ... UCSF. That's right -- we're taking this show on the road, and heading up to San Francisco for a spin in the OR by the bay.
There's a longer tale to tell here about UCSF, but since I know all of you are very busy in your Covid Caves, I'll simply note that my project to form a small tumor board now includes one of the nation's top colon cancer specialists, and easily one of the kindest souls I've yet to meet: Dr. K(3) from UCSF. Dr. K(3) and I have had a few chats about my case and he's now helping to direct the next path up the mountain, which means UCSF is now part of my ever expanding network of terrific medical care.
Oh and if you are looking for a small late night diversion of hope during quarantine, may I recommend the twitter feed of Dr. Bob Wachter, UCSF's medical department chair (@Bob_Wachter). Most nights he posts a thread about how remarkable the Bay Area has done in keeping our Covid cases low, plus explanations for all those charts we've been learning how to read, along with heroic stories of doctors and nurses on the front lines, including a medical team UCSF recently sent to NYC and the Navajo Nation because our caseload remains so very low.
I read this thread each evening knowing that I'm a recipient of this story -- a story about smart public health officials who raised their voices to our local leadership, who then leaned forward and listened so very closely, and who then made what most thought were wild decisions to close down the Bay Area way back in early March, far before that was a thing.
As a result, surgeries like mine are now happening at UCSF and other area hospitals, and lives are being saved. All because good people took stock of something terrible and found a way to smart decisions, paving the way for cancer patients in Menlo Park and Native Americans living in remote areas to receive first-class care. Is there a better story than that?
There's a particularly poignant scene in The Fellowship of the Ring when Frodo is fretting over the awful burden that's been placed on him to carry the ring.
“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
And so that's where our story takes me, and each of us. A chapter none of us ever wanted is here -- whether it's cancer or Covid -- but along with it is a grand invitation to decide what to do with the time that's been given to us. If we use whatever talents we have in these days -- like the Bay Area health officials did -- perhaps we can help shape better outcomes for all those souls connected to our lives. Those souls we know, and, perhaps more magically, those souls we'll never actually meet.
And who knows? Perhaps this chapter might even result in a date to The Met Gala. We'll dance all night.
xoxo