​Jeff would have turned 59 today. It’s not a particularly interesting number and not typically considered a milestone. But for him, it would have been major. One more year to notch on his belt, but also potentially another year of suffering.
 
Two weeks ago, I took my first vacation since Jeff passed away in May. Decided to leave the country. Traveled to Costa Rica prompted by a friend who had lost her husband 4 years ago last week. It was a bit weird; I wasn’t quite sure how to feel. There was guilt, loneliness, sadness, joy… relief!! An entire gimmish of emotions. So many folks asked “Are you traveling alone?”

During this trip, ​I had time to reflect on how meaningful my relationship with Jeff was and still is to me. Gave thought to how I wanted to honor him with both my life’s work and my life’s play. He always wanted me to have fun!! However, I hadn’t given much thought to the fact that his birthday was approaching!  What was I going to do??
 
My plan was to arrive home Tuesday to allow a day of recovery prior to my busy clinic on Thursday. Unfortunately I ended up spending Wednesday reviewing references for a book chapter. Completely exhausted on Thursday evening, I decided to celebrate Jeff’s birthday by heading to the Superbowl to support our team -- GoPats! The drive there was intense and laborious; traffic at most major cities on the way down to ATL from Winston Salem. The vendors would not sell me a single ticket – they needed to sell 2 or more to keep seats together. But finally someone said they were interested in a single and we paired.

Similarly, Jeff didn’t speak much of Christmas with his family; things changed after his grandmother died. I suppose there is always one person who holds the family and its traditions together. When Jeff and I married, it was like we were two blank canvases – and we were left to create our holiday traditions together.
 
So in true renegade fashion, we had no real holiday tradition. One year we would travel, the next we would serve dinner to the homeless, and many were spent with great friends and extended family. But perhaps the most memorable Christmas holidays were those where we just hung around the house in our pajamas, sipping whatever yummy beverage we designed as we gazed into the fireplace all aglow. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way to create lasting memories.

Looking around, I wonder how folks can just keep moving forward when my life has come to a dead stop. Still reeling from the loss, I try to move about my days as if nothing has changed, but everything has. My fragile mind cannot keep up with the pace I am used to – there is no more hustle in my bustle, no more pep in my step. The air has been let out of my sails.
 
Yesterday, November 29, 2018, marked 6 months since my husband – my best friend – left this earth. 

It wasn’t clear to me then, but my class in 1997 was the first she had been completely in charge of admitting to the school. She had worked with Dr. Lois Pounds, former Dean, the year prior. But mine was the fortunate class to have Dr. Armstrong’s hand placed fully on its selection. We were diverse in socioeconomic, academic, and racial/ethnic background. It was wonderful – nine percent (9%) of the class was from backgrounds traditionally underrepresented in medicine (URM). The following year, the number skyrocketed to 22%!! And not a single thing changed with respect to the credentials of the incoming class – just what they looked like. It should have come as no surprise that the woman who was among the first to integrate Duke’s undergraduate campus and who later became the second black woman in the US to become a board-certified pediatric cardiologist, would be a stalwart supporter of workforce diversity and made it her life’s mission to bring talented people of all backgrounds to an institution that had previously not been very diverse.
 
Dr. Armstrong’s success recruiting talented URMs to the medical school came because she was willing to invest time and look where others might not. She would not just sit and wait for applicants, particularly since she knew the schools history and understood that some, especially students of color, might not apply because they didn’t think they would be accepted. She went out and brought in talent that others might have overlooked. I personally was grateful that despite being a single parent, she saw value in having me join a class of stellar students. The expectations of me were the same as they were for every other student and perhaps higher. You see, Dr. Armstrong herself was as single parent in addition to being a pediatric cardiologist and Dean of Admission for a top tier medical school, while she gave back to the community, coaching for the Striders track team. She never let me allow my situation to define what I could become. And for that I am eternally grateful.
 
Although she has transitioned, her legacy as a champion for workforce diversity, both at the Duke University School of Medicine and around the country, will not be diminished. 

This weekend I traveled to NYC for the NCI’s Associate Director/Program Leader Workshop; trying to learn a bit more about my new role as Associate Director for Cancer Health Equity. I arrived a day early to participate in the Population Health Assessment in Cancer Center Catchment Areas meeting held at the  Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx. My flight left Piedmont Airport in Greensboro at 6:15am and arrived at LaGuardia (LGA) 7:43am - according to the timestamp on the text I sent my husband letting him know the flight had landed. Just 7 miles away, the cab ride to the Einstein took about 24 minutes. Despite growing up in NY, I never realized how close LGA was to the Bronx. Stepping foot onto campus made me think of one of my “besties” whose very first job out of residency was at Einstein. She has since moved on.

​There were a few familiar faces in attendance and I was thrilled to make new acquaintances. The meeting was intense and filled with tons of great info. It wasn’t until the meeting ended and I was on the shuttle to the hotel that I realized how exhausted I was. That 11 mile bus ride from the Bronx into Manhattan at 6pm seemed to take forever.

We arrived at the Roosevelt hotel and I disembarked from the bus - a bit disoriented from fatigue. It was 7pm and I hadn’t eaten since the boxed lunch they served at noon, but still needed to check in. I dropped my bags in the room and did a quick search for Chinese. Followed my GPS, but realized after 2 blocks of walking that I was headed in the wrong direction. I completely forgot how screwed up the GPS gets around tall buildings. But that was the best thing that could have ever happened…. I found myself standing in front of the gate to a building that held so much significance for me.

You see, science/medicine is not my first career. For those of us who are first generation college grads, our paths may not be so straightforward. Even if given a map to follow, we sometimes find that the  career “GPS” seems to be a bit screwed up. I did not take a straight path to medicine. The twists and turns in my story may cause some say that my non-traditional course was a rocky one. I choose to look at my experiences as providing a rich background – a perfect foundation upon which to build a career in medicine and social justice.

​I couldn't help but take this photo of the gate to Tower45 located at 120 W. 45th Street, NY, NY.

​It was here that my journey began… Let me tell you the story.

We've just been handling the episodic hospitalizations quietly on our own. It's interesting to see our Cousin Dan share his amazing story of caregiving in the setting of Alzheimer's. So much of what he says I can identify with -- chronic illness is a messy, horrible thing. Especially when you know things will only get worse. The worry, stress, concern, anger, disappointment... is this what I signed up for???

The entire gamut of emotions on top of the fatigue can be daunting. And even harder when your best friend - the person you'd like to rely on for comfort/strength - is the one who is sick. 

Just remember to take care of yourself.
Just remember to take care of yourself.
Just remembers....

Perhaps if I say it enough... #FeelingSomeKindaWay

 ​In my first blog of 2017, I recounted the story of finding my husband unresponsive on the floor the day after Christmas. When he finally came to, he reluctantly agreed to let me get a wheelchair from the hotel lobby.

After settling him into the car, I asked, “which hospital do you want to go to?”

What seemed like a very straightforward question at the time was, upon later reflection, one that demonstrated a major issue related to healthcare access.

1. Insurance – While insurance provides folks a degree of coverage it also can impose restrictions that limit options related to where people can seek care. Some are forced into networks with limited access to specialists or with doctors that are culturally insensitive.

They may not even feel empowered to seek medical attention! The  Affordable Care Act (ACA) is not perfect, but it is a first step towards providing all US citizens with basic coverage. There are many parts that need repair including prohibitive copays levied by insurers, but allowing citizens to go without coverage leads to cost-shifting and burdens the healthcare system, ultimately leading to higher costs. Click here to contact your legislator and petition them to save the ACA. 
​
~One Drop of knowledge

I rushed him to the hospital.

​Our experience with the healthcare system was stressful and anxiety-provoking. Gratefully, Jeff recovered and went home. However, the experience left an indelible impression upon me about the challenges patients face when participating in our healthcare system.
 
I am a physician and my husband is very invested in his health, yet we still struggled to navigate and feel heard. Over the next few weeks, I’d like to explore some of the barriers we faced and see if we can come to some solutions together. Are you with me?

~One Drop of Knowledge

The movie "​12 Years a Slave" aired on BET Network tonight. I have always made a conscious effort to stay away from movies that depict the brutality of slavery. To think that human beings could treat other humans with such cruelty makes my heart pain. Despite the accolades and award-winning casts, I never saw the movie Amistad or watched the mini-series Roots. 12 Years was no different – I just couldn’t bring myself to open myself to the emotions that might surface.
 
My first opportunity to watch 12 Years was in 2014 on a flight to Botswana. I decided not to watch, fearing how I might react, especially being confined on a plane for 14 hours. Would I cry uncontrollably or scream from the top of my lungs?!? I was afraid of feeling alone and vulnerable on that long international flight.
 
As a flipped channels tonight, something forced me to stop at BET and to watch 12 Years. Over the past two weeks I have spent focused attention on modern day medical atrocities performed against blacks. . Eugenics, J. Marion Sims, radiation experiments, and Tuskegee – experimentation by the US government that ended a few years after I was born!