I tried NaNoWriMo before, I think it was two years ago, and life as usual, got in the way. This time around with over 17,000 words (the target is 50,000), a dent has definitely been made, and the novel's characters are pushing me to go on. They have been trapped long enough in my muddled head. Picture that video of Queen, cross-dressing, with the great Mercury singing I want to break free!
Oh, man, now I am singing NaNoWriMo to the refrain of Yah Mo B There. Stop in the name of . . . !!!
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I just finished reading Abraham Verghese's The Tennis Partner: A Doctor's Story of Friendship and Loss. It was one of those books I found difficult to put down (though I had to. These days the only time I read is either in the wee hours of the morning, or right before I sleep). I have yet to read My Own Country, but did read excerpts from it. And if I can get Cutting for Stone through inter-library loan, I cannot wait to read it.
The Tennis Partner tells the story of Verghese's friendship with a former professional tennis player now medical student David Smith in the early years of the nineteen nineties. Verghese is the careful considerate teacher, guiding Smith through his internal medicine rotation. On the tennis court, Smith is the teacher, steering Verghese on how to improve his tennis game about which he remains rather self-conscious. These are the things that bring them together, but their friendship is solidified by the loneliness of two men who are both dealing with dark spots in their lives. For Verghese, it is his failing marriage. For Smith, it is his cocaine addiction and his relationship with his girlfriend(s).
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I find it interesting to read about doctor's lives and their work, just as much as I enjoy watching television shows like E.R., House M.D, and Doc Martin. One of my parents is a doctor, and reading this book, I could not help but think of my father's life, and wonder whether he found that being in the medical profession fostered a certain loneliness or not. How that may have contributed to his relationship with us, in his choices.
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It was difficult not to think of Eve Sedgwick and the homosocial as I read Verghese's thoughts and feelings towards Smith. One instance was David's feelings for Gloria, and Verghese's resentment towards her for the hold she had on him during their relationship. Homosociality is not to be confused with homosexuality or even bi-, as Verghese also wonders about Smith being bisexual and does not necessarily want to face that possibility.
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These next few passages really hit close to home as I read them this morning (warning: spoilers!).
I have formed my own opinion. David's illness was far removed from the mere act of sticking a needle in a vein. I can only imagine that his disease began in childhood, and that it was a disease of the soul. I know almost nothing about his childhood, but I know that what he felt was universal. A child will always feel insufficient and powerless in a world of adults.
We grew up, and on the surface, we left our childish ways, overcame these feelings. Then, in the middle of the journey of our lives, we found ourselves, like Dante, on a dark path. It was there my road diverged from David's. My dark path, no matter how many times I relive it, would never have led to suicide. There was too much I believed in, too many things I held sacred. My escape from the dark path came from reaching out, primarily to him, but also to my parents, my brothers, my friends, a network of human connections. It was David's hand more than any other that pulled me free, set me back on my feet, made me feel I was not alone. Gratitude for that is at the root of my love for him (p. 340).Doctors see themselves as healers (and some have a God complex), but here is a very successful doctor who openly talks about the "dark path" he walks on, even as a healer, and how friendship and human connections can and do pull one off said path. These human connections are one (not the only) alternative to suicide when one finds that life is not worth living and one is completely alone in the world.
There are friends of mine who have committed suicide. One perhaps may not have intended to do so, even, but in returning to using (in his case it was heroin), overdosed on alcohol and heroin at a very depressing and painful time in his life. A time in which a number of us who thought we were his friends were not there, and perhaps could not have stopped him from the horror.
Human connections are not always enough, sadly, when one has divorced himself or herself from humanity (or believes that humanity has divorced itself from him). Secrets do not protect anyone. Certainly not those being kept in the dark, but especially the holder of a painful one. One can never completely heal from self-destruction if one does not let go of his or her secrets, and is able to face the world once they are released.
I could not help but thank Abraham Verghese while reading the above passages, because my own dark path has pushed me towards the brink, more than once, and I have been saved by the very things that have been important to him. The Tennis Partner is an excellent read. It shows Verghese as a brilliant diagnostician (we need more doctors like him!). It analyzes a close and beautiful friendship in a topsy turvy world -- its highs, its lows, the things we hold on to, and the things we let go. And it breaks open a world many of us know so little about - the world of medicine. Its ability to heal others, but not always the healers.
