max s. gerber(the latest shot)

i have a different sort of relationship with doctors than most of my friends. doctors have always been a part of my life, as long as i can remember, though admittedly much less so now that i’m an adult. maybe my parents were nervous when i was a kid, maybe things were more precarious, maybe technology has just gotten better. i’m rarely sick now, i go to the doctor less than most people i know. really, in the past few years it’s been mostly emergency room visits due to me being careless and slicing my fingers up.

when i do go to the doctor, it’s always peter guzy at UCLA. and jane has been there as long as i can remember; there to answer my stupid questions, there to hook me up to the machines. when i was younger she used to give me a hard time about being squeamish with needles, now, after more than a decade on coumadin blood tests don’t faze me in the slightest. i can’t really tell, but i always thought jane was kind of proud of me for this transformation. and i actually think i got her to admit that she was a bit squeamish herself, but i’m not sure. every couple months for the past 27 years or so jane would call me up, and i’d attach special sensors to my wrists and get an EKG over the phone. this makes sure everything is still operating properly, and most importantly it tells me that batteries are still charged and working. now it’s been six years or so since my last surgery and every call makes me a bit nervous. it’s a weird feeling to know that you’ve just bypassed the official warranty on the thing inside your chest that keeps you alive.

(everytime i mention this sort of thing on this site i stop and wonder to myself if it’s a good idea. i’ve been struggling with people’s perceptions of my physical capabilities all my life, and the truth is i’m not even the least bit unhealthy. i’m probably healthier than most guys in their mid-30s. thanks to my father i have a metabolism like a blast furnace and will likely never be overweight. my activities aren’t restricted hardly at all. most days i don’t even consider the pacer too much. you’d never know it if you didn’t see the scars. working as a freelancer i sometimes feel like i should play this one closer to the chest (so to speak), not reveal things that might scare away potential clients. i can’t really imagine how this might do that, although i once had to turn down an assignment for TIME magazine that involved being very close to an MRI machine. it sounded like a good gig, too, i was sad to have to turn it down. i guess i figure that now that i’ve gone and published a book about having a heart defect the cat’s out of the bag, right?)

anyway, jane is retiring next week and moving to montana. i get the feeling that she doesn’t really want to leave. i know that nobody else wants her to. it’s hard for me to imagine not having her on the other end of the line when things go wrong. it’s hard for me to imagine not having her there when things go right, too. i’m happy to have had the opportunity, finally, to take a proper picture of jane, and grateful for all the times she’s been there for me for almost three decades. i don’t make it out to montana much, so i’m hoping she’ll still visit every once in a while. some people you meet in life are just essential. even if you don’t see them enough, you know they’re there and it means the world. so thanks, jane, for everything. for being a calming and reassuring voice when i was a scared kid, for being a familiar and friendly face when i started taking responsibility for my own healthcare as a young adult, and for being a good friend throughout. don’t worry, montana won’t be that bad. we’ll all miss you.