Looking Inward

 

Looking inward, he saw many roads.
Some traveled; some avoided;
Some stumbled down…

 

Looking outward, he saw many roads.
Places to go; places to stay away from;
Places to fall…

 

Opening his eyes, he saw it true.
The road under his feet;
Firm, warm, and straight…

 

“Perhaps I should keep both
Eyes open more of the time;
Life shouldn’t be so ambiguous.”

 

 

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The past seven months I have come across some of the universe’s most amazing souls. Each day I find myself catching glimpses of both heaven and hell, yet somehow I am yet to lose my mind.  To tell you the truth, I feel like I am only gaining insight .  I feel so blessed to be learning how to cultivate my faith and courage from the world’s best gurus – residents and staff alike.

 

Of the two physicians, I have been able to connect on a more comfortable level with Andrew. I’m not sure if it is because he is closer to my age, or rather just  because he is less weird than Peter. Either way, or most likely both, Andrew’s Tao and guidance have granted me a certain confidence and hope in what I am capable of.

 

One of the most important things that I have garnered from my time learning with Andrew has been the importance of modeling as a teaching tool.  Whether it was an illustration of how to talk to a dying person and their loved ones, or an example of how to effortlessly filet a yellow fin tuna, the method works.

 

Andrew followed Peter’s lead in becoming a physician, but he certainly followed a different path. It wasn’t until after a long-haired, post-bacculaureate, stent in Nairobi, Kenya (as part of a Peace Corps ), and a subsequent work on an AIDS campaign in Botswana (as support staff for Doctors without Borders) , that he acknowledged his fate as a physician.  When Andrew finished his residency in infectious diseases at a Philadelphia teaching hospital, he was naturally drawn to a fellowship in palliative care in Boston.

 

Given his experiences and training, he thought that perhaps he could become an expert in helping support those living with HIV and AIDS.  In Boston, while in the presence of some of the world’s foremost palliative care guides, he blossomed. He honed his craft and imagined his life ahead.  As his personal motivation and vocational goals changed after his own fathers death, he became acquainted with  the prospect of life as he lives it now.

 

Andrew has schooled me in much technical and theoretical medical jargon during the time I have been here. In all of the details and different words, the same message comes through.  He has taught me the importance of being consciously accepting of one’s own transient nature; in moment, in time, and in life…

 

Andrew took me out to the mooring earlier this afternoon to help him work on repairing some minor damage to the fiberglass deck on the boat. Last week Peter had allegedly dropped an anchor on deck, and splintered off a good chunk of one of the aft gunwales.   After, sanding, painting, buffing, and glazing; he showed me the real project he has been working on.

 

The “project” started nine months ago while the brothers were on a day trip to Tortola. While there, they stumbled upon a amateur rock sculptor with affinity for absinthe, and a desire to share his craft.  They saw some of his work engraving granite, and they had a moment of epiphany. They would work with this guy to create a wonderful and morbid symbiosis.

 

In the months that followed, the brothers commissioned the sculptor to produce glorious and simple headstones for the deceased. Several of the stones were on display in the local cemetery in St John – others were shipped back stateside to accompany those who had commissioned them. Andrew was very excited about the whole process of learning a new trade and found himself spending more time with the sculptor and learning some of the tricks of his craft. As it turns out, he had his own special project in mind.

 

The product of his wildly creative endeavor now lies 16 feet below the Caribbean Sea. It  lies in the form of a 3000 pound granite block, complete with iron chains and rope attached. This of course is the mooring or foothold to keep the “Aqueous Humor” in place.

 

Andrew handed me a snorkel and mask from the cabin and said, “take a look at the mooring chains- let me know what you think…”

 

As I pressed the face mask against the warm blue surface of the water I looked down to see its beauty… The granite block that his boat was anchored to had writing on it –  The son of a bitch had engraved his own headstone…

 

 

1967 –
Son, Brother, Physician, Friend

Andrew Jacob Simon

Float on…

 

I am still perplexed… When I came up smiling, Andrew shared with me that when he dies he would like to be cremated with his ashes spread at sea. Right there – at the mooring. It was his favorite place in the world, his own personal respite. His wish was to become feed for the fish, and fodder for the imagination of those grieving . He will always be a true artist my mind….

 

 

 

 

 

A couple of Andrew’s early  designs