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.
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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