I’ve always liked standing out from others, doing things that few others dare (or want) to do. It’s been part of my sense of self. This is such an occasion.
For the past several years I’ve been restless, even bored. During most of my adulthood, I’ve moved or otherwise changed my work every seven years or so. I left Yale for Germany. I left medical school and went to a tiny, remote town. I took a year’s sabbatical from medicine to be a house-husband in Marja’s home town in Finland. We moved to the inner city of Washington so I could practice medicine with the impoverished. I founded Joseph’s House, a home for homeless men with AIDS, where our family lived for three years. I left medicine and took another sabbatical to Finland. I left Joseph’s House to become a full-time advocate and writing. But now it’s becoming seven or eight years, and I’m restless again. I’ve known this for several years but haven’t really known what to do, what kind of choice to make. But now the choice has been made for me. For these two weeks since the diagnosis, at least, it’s been interesting. I can write this blog, speak to audiences, perhaps counsel others. It’s a new life, and some parts of me look forward to it … despite the tragedy that I know is coming.