6 West

Once upon a time, I had a huge family of scrub-wearers. They were part of my life for somewhere under 15 months. Their impact will never leave me. This was the family of a place that no longer exists.

The last time I went to NNMC, 6 West was a NICU. But the time before that, it was an oncology ward for chronically ill patients. My father was there a few times over the year-or-so he was treated at Bethesda. The doctors, nurses, corpsmen, chaplains there provided more than maybe they will ever know. And I have no way to begin to thank them. But if I could, I definitely would.

Today is 19 years. And this year I have a new reason to find December difficult. I also have a lot of reasons to be very stressed out. And I am. Unbelievably. But at least this semester is over, even if that puts me one step closer to the very thing that is terrifying me the most.

The rest of my life.

That means a lot of things. It still means everything I've ever done and will ever do from December 17, 1992 onward. It also means all the scary things I've yet to face. I will persist; I always do. But while it gets easier each year, it also gets harder.

At least I am not currently depressed. After the last two weeks of finals didn't result in crippling despair, I can say that with confidence.

And I should mention that, with the atheist world grieving Hitch, I feel like I'm not the only person grieving right now. So much of the world is sad with me today, and that feels wonderful.