Thursday, December 6, 2012

THE MARSHA RIVKIN CENTER FOR OVARIAN CANCER RESEARCH.


Linda at the Copper Canyon, northern Mexico
Our last trip, 2010

It is a Thursday morning; raining, of course.  Last night I got back from Seattle at dinner time, barely in time to prevent my cats from starving to death. (At least that is the impression the wanted to convey.)  I usually get back on Tuesdays, and that was the amount of food I left them.  From now on I’ll have to supply more, because I think I will be spending most Tuesdays and Wednesdays at the Marsha Rivkin Center for Ovarian Cancer Research.  (Let’s call it MRC from now on.)  Let me tell  you about it.

The MRC is housed in a small suite on the 7th floor of the Heath Building, which is attached to Swedish Hospital (see below.)  As far as I can make out, it employs less than a dozen people.  It has two main functions.  It raises money for ovarian cancer research, and doles it out in small increments ($60K-$ 75K)  to worthy cancer researchers, either as small starter grants for established scientists who want to probe some new approach, or as support for younger people (working in the ovarian field, of course) to help them get started.  It also runs clinical trials of its own.  MRC works hand in glove with my lab at Fred Hutch; the two even share staff. 

MRC is the creation of Dr. Saul Rivkin.  His wife died of ovarian cancer.  Dr. Rivkin is an oncologist, and he still practices.  In his spare time he has conceived, organized, helped fund, and to some extent supervised MRC.  I am in awe of the guy, although I have yet to meet him.  I wish I had done something half so important with my life.  Dr. Rivkin, I believe, has his practice at Swedish Hospital, which I turn to next.

Ah, Swedish.  Where MRC is compact and orderly, Swedish is sprawling, disorganized, and nearly impossible to navigate.  It is not actually a hospital, it is a medical conglomerate with a hospital imbedded somewhere inside.  From the map they give visitors it seems to cover something in excess of eight city blocks.  That same sketchy map shows about 20 named buildings; all multi-story, of course; some in excess of 10 floors.  It shows five garages; the one I will park in (free parking!) is six levels underground.  No doubt Stockholm is the largest Swedish city, but on a busy day I’ll bet the Swedish Hospital complex runs it a close second.  All these buildings are tied together - without a vestige of system - by a maze of walkways, tunnels and sky bridges.  Nobody has mastered them all.  A person who appeared to know told me that patients and visitors sometimes are found huddled in a corner, weeping with uncontrollable frustration at their inability to find their way.  We “staff” are morally obligated to help them, although what help I could give is doubtful.  Remember the Kingston Trio?  They wrote a song about the Boston Subway system; “trapped forever ‘neath the streets of Boston; he’s the man who never came home”.  The words popped into my head when I had to ask three people how to get from Employee Health to the Heath Building, and one of them had no idea!

I was planning to end this blog with a cute little allusion to Thesius and the Minotaur, but the analogy is too far fetched.  Besides, the only dangerous creature I am likely to encounter in the Swedish labyrinth probably would be armed with a stethoscope.      

   

1 comment:

  1. Myrl, you are and have done important things with your life. You are not only volunteering, you are volunteering several days per week. I keep thinking of how proud Linda would be of you. Thanks also for the description of your locations. If you vanish, we'll all take a wing and search for you.

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