Godspeed, Harvey

And, now--my therapy. There is only one way to debrief and that’s by talking about it. Well, Harvey the one-boob wonder died last night. I was privileged to be with her when she passed away.

You know, I’ve seen a baby be born and I’ve seen a person die. I’ll take watching a birth any day over watching someone die.

No one should ever have to be as sick as Harvey was, as I stated in my previous blog about her.

Harvey made me smile until the very end. My favorite moment of the night was when she asked for “more heroine, please.” (Now, THAT would be a real pain killer!) She had to settle for morphine.

I can’t tell you much more than that, not only due to confidentiality but out of respect to Harvey. Suffice it to say she died a true champion.

Sometimes, people are put in our lives to teach us lessons. I truly believe Harvey was in my life for that reason. Anyone who thinks you can’t learn anything from a person with schizophrenia and terminal cancer is sadly mistaken.

Harvey, I hope you are up there kicking God in the shins and demanding to know why you had to suffer so much in this life. Give him a kick for me. Heck, give him two kicks. After you are done kicking him, enjoy having two boobs and no pain. Enjoy being free of the voices that tormented you for so long. Enjoy thoughts of your cutie-patootie oncologist. Enjoy being free of all this nonsense.

Thank you for all the laughs. You really did crack me up. Thank you for dying so calmly, so quietly, so nicely, so peacefully for me, for your father. I’m sorry your life was cut so short but I’m glad you had those three extra years. Gave you three more years to teach me things, and for that I am very grateful.

Godspeed, Harvey. Now, go enjoy those two boobs.