inspiration

First some backstory. In the summers of 2003 and 2004, I was a surgical tech at Provena St. Mary's Hospital in my hometown of Kankakee, Illinois. It is undoubtedly a pivotal point in my life. To say I found joy in the work would be too weak a description. I got to work with amazing techs, nurses, doctors and patients. I got to see and learn so many things both medical and about myself. For the first time in my life, I had a sense of clarity, that this would be something I'd be happy doing for a living. Some of the doctors I worked with were genuine assholes. Some were very nice, but maybe weren't the most skilled at their craft. A select few had completely mastered the instruments in their hand while silmutaneously making a truly genuine connection to the people they worked with day to day. Dr. Jon Peterson was one such person I was blessed to work with. When I was still learning the brutish art of surgical retraction, Dr. Peterson expertly balanced my sense of uneasiness with simple directions;
"Hold it like this. Yes, just like that. Pull up a little more Meisenbach", and lighthearted insults; "you know you're lower than whale shit. It sinks to the bottom of the ocean and you're even lower than that."
He was like that to everyone. A genuine good guy, with a jovial spirit. If he'd feed you the "whale shit" line, or a similar jab, that meant he truly liked you. Everyone in the surgical unit loved working with him and coveted the chance to do so. Then there was me, the college student in a summer internship who didn't know what the hell he was doing but was trying to find out what to do with his life. Like I said, he was extremely patient with me and he even took the time to explain and teach me;
"Now we don't know if this tumor is cancerous, so we're going to remove this part that's thickened here and send it off to the lab to see what we've got. For this lady it's just a little biopsy, but for McGinnis over there (a nurse and my cousin), this would be a goddamn masectomy."
About a year ago, after I had moved on to another Provena hospital, I got word from my parents that Dr. Peterson had been brought into the hospital. It turned out he had brain cancer. One of Dr. Jon's partners after hearing this had personally cleaned out his office and sent all his belongings home. I'd gradually get updates from my Dad telling me how he was doing. How much thinner he had gotten. How sad his eyes looked.
My parents called me tonight and started speaking of him in the past tense. I was confused at first, but they quickly explained that Dr. Peterson had passed monday. Monday I was in Kankakee, I had thought about going into see all my old surgery buddies and maybe go see Dr. Peterson who was in intensive care. I didn't do either. I'm bad with friendships to begin with and when a life threatening illness is involved, I'm even worse. Had I known he had died, I would have been able to go to his funeral, which turns out was today. I'm still mad about my parents not telling me sooner, but I'm really fucking mad at myself for not making the effort on Monday. There's so many people that have touched my life in one way or another. Many of those people I don't get to speak with often and some not at all(mostly due to me feeling uncomfortable or nonconfrontational). I can't tell you how much I regret all those friendships/relationships I've fucked up, because I was too scared to just say hi or to break the silence. Most of the time I feel so isolated and alone. Maybe this is my penance.

Obituary