Hi Professor Nestor,
It is December 21th or so (I don't even know, and I am too tired or lazy to look up at the date on my own desktop), and we have exam in 2 days and I am dragging. I dont think I've ever studied this hard and honestly, I dont know if I will be able to make it in May, when we take the boards.
Its just a ridiculous push. 12-15 hour days for almost 4 months straight... it can get painful.
Anyways, I hope your family has a great holiday this year and I know that you will always be remembered in the great way that you should.
Back to the books.
Rich
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
Dear Professor Nestor,
Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful and fortunate for all of my mentors in my life, where I really would not be anywhere without their guidance.
I was reading the Archives of Surgery today and noticed this quote:
"Surgery is a science, an art, a type of practice and a profession with many distinct attributes. To call any one of them surgery is to diminish the value of the whole. Do not confuse the procedure, an operation or its site, the operating room, with a revered science."
I just hope that I can live up that one day. =)
Cheers,
Richard
ps. I bet all of your family is gathered right now in Virginia, and telling their stories about you. If I were there, I would have so many wonderful stories to share. The one I would choose to tell today? I remember the first time I was in your car, I vaguely remember it was for an early SI meeting, but I did notice that you drove manual. I was so impressed, and asked, "Wow. Have you been driving stick your entire life?"
You replied, "Is there any other way to to drive?"
That winter, I bought a 6-speed manual. I don't think I'll ever go back to an automatic.
Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful and fortunate for all of my mentors in my life, where I really would not be anywhere without their guidance.
I was reading the Archives of Surgery today and noticed this quote:
"Surgery is a science, an art, a type of practice and a profession with many distinct attributes. To call any one of them surgery is to diminish the value of the whole. Do not confuse the procedure, an operation or its site, the operating room, with a revered science."
I just hope that I can live up that one day. =)
Cheers,
Richard
ps. I bet all of your family is gathered right now in Virginia, and telling their stories about you. If I were there, I would have so many wonderful stories to share. The one I would choose to tell today? I remember the first time I was in your car, I vaguely remember it was for an early SI meeting, but I did notice that you drove manual. I was so impressed, and asked, "Wow. Have you been driving stick your entire life?"
You replied, "Is there any other way to to drive?"
That winter, I bought a 6-speed manual. I don't think I'll ever go back to an automatic.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Hi Professor Nestor,
Its been about a year and a half since you left us; a little over a year since I went off to study with the hopes of becoming a doctor.
I've been working hard. Studying, not like I did at Trinity, has been weighing me down. First year wasn't so bad, but living in Newark for what seems like an eternity coupled with the perpetual beatdown of the workload here, it is getting tough to handle.
Lately, battling some type of sinus/upper respiratory infection, I've been finding it increasingly difficult to find reasons to smile. It has been tough, and the grey and rainy weather isn't really helping. I seem and feel so distant from everyone, friends, family, and feel that no one has me in their minds or hearts.
I don't think I've ever felt so alone before in my life, and as you know, I've gone through a lot; stuff much worse than just 'too much studying.'
But don't be afraid. I am writing you not only to update you but to let you know that I look at your photo everyday; on the way out and into my apartment bedroom. A vintage photo of you and your husband, sits on my dresser and the both of you smiling reminds me of fonder memories; memories of Clement, and PChem, and good friends, and the smell of methylene chloride. Not that I want to go back into the lab, but I wanted to write to tell you that after all this time, I do still miss you.
It was at times like this I would find myself in your office, just to talk, and to absorb your aura, and your heart and your love. Fighting a sarcoma that wouldn't let you go, you smiled and told me that it was going to be okay.
Did I tell you? We are learning about cancer now and I am embarrassed to say that after 3 days of lecture, it was just now that it dawned on me. I am embarrassed for my selfishness; I am sorry for not thinking of you today, or yesterday, or the day before. I was so afraid to ask what took you from us, and now that I think of it, I wish I knew. I wish I knew, so maybe one day I could help. Maybe one day, I could help another professor like you, someone who touched so many lives through your teaching. I've been doing research for so long now.. maybe it is about time that I actually do something meaningful with it.
But I know that you'd be disappointed in me if I didnt pursue my own dreams and chased your killer; its not what a good professor, a good mentor, a good friend, would do. You would support me and my endeavors, telling me to study hard, and enjoy life.
I am sad that I don't have that person to turn to here. At Trinity, it was always so nice to come get a hug from you or Dr. Morrison. The warmth from your offices were always the draw for us students, and I bet it still remains there, heating the cold hallways of the chemistry building.
I am rambling. I have no continuity to this letter to you, no purpose other than to say hello and vent and let it out. You always were there for me before, I thought you wouldn't mind, now. Wherever you are, I hope that you do get to read this, or read my thoughts, or hear my voice, because amidst such a time, speaking to you seems to be my own solace.
Back to work for me, and I promise to try and talk to you soon. Knowing the rigorous schedule ahead of me, it will probably be sooner rather than later.
Wishing I had your strength.
Wishing I had your love.
Wishing I had your presence.
Wishing I had your confidence.
and most of all, wishing I had your wisdom and ability to make everything better. just with a flash of a smile.
Forever your pupil,
Rich
ps. Professor Nestor, you would be so proud. America elected a black president this year. You would have been so proud.
Its been about a year and a half since you left us; a little over a year since I went off to study with the hopes of becoming a doctor.
I've been working hard. Studying, not like I did at Trinity, has been weighing me down. First year wasn't so bad, but living in Newark for what seems like an eternity coupled with the perpetual beatdown of the workload here, it is getting tough to handle.
Lately, battling some type of sinus/upper respiratory infection, I've been finding it increasingly difficult to find reasons to smile. It has been tough, and the grey and rainy weather isn't really helping. I seem and feel so distant from everyone, friends, family, and feel that no one has me in their minds or hearts.
I don't think I've ever felt so alone before in my life, and as you know, I've gone through a lot; stuff much worse than just 'too much studying.'
But don't be afraid. I am writing you not only to update you but to let you know that I look at your photo everyday; on the way out and into my apartment bedroom. A vintage photo of you and your husband, sits on my dresser and the both of you smiling reminds me of fonder memories; memories of Clement, and PChem, and good friends, and the smell of methylene chloride. Not that I want to go back into the lab, but I wanted to write to tell you that after all this time, I do still miss you.
It was at times like this I would find myself in your office, just to talk, and to absorb your aura, and your heart and your love. Fighting a sarcoma that wouldn't let you go, you smiled and told me that it was going to be okay.
Did I tell you? We are learning about cancer now and I am embarrassed to say that after 3 days of lecture, it was just now that it dawned on me. I am embarrassed for my selfishness; I am sorry for not thinking of you today, or yesterday, or the day before. I was so afraid to ask what took you from us, and now that I think of it, I wish I knew. I wish I knew, so maybe one day I could help. Maybe one day, I could help another professor like you, someone who touched so many lives through your teaching. I've been doing research for so long now.. maybe it is about time that I actually do something meaningful with it.
But I know that you'd be disappointed in me if I didnt pursue my own dreams and chased your killer; its not what a good professor, a good mentor, a good friend, would do. You would support me and my endeavors, telling me to study hard, and enjoy life.
I am sad that I don't have that person to turn to here. At Trinity, it was always so nice to come get a hug from you or Dr. Morrison. The warmth from your offices were always the draw for us students, and I bet it still remains there, heating the cold hallways of the chemistry building.
I am rambling. I have no continuity to this letter to you, no purpose other than to say hello and vent and let it out. You always were there for me before, I thought you wouldn't mind, now. Wherever you are, I hope that you do get to read this, or read my thoughts, or hear my voice, because amidst such a time, speaking to you seems to be my own solace.
Back to work for me, and I promise to try and talk to you soon. Knowing the rigorous schedule ahead of me, it will probably be sooner rather than later.
Wishing I had your strength.
Wishing I had your love.
Wishing I had your presence.
Wishing I had your confidence.
and most of all, wishing I had your wisdom and ability to make everything better. just with a flash of a smile.
Forever your pupil,
Rich
ps. Professor Nestor, you would be so proud. America elected a black president this year. You would have been so proud.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Rest in Peace
Dear Professor Nestor,
I will miss you.
I hope you knew that you were the reason for so many good influences in my life. You always challenged me to be perfect, never waivering, always offering a kind word and a hug whenever i needed it.
Words cannot express what I owe you, and how much I will miss seeing you.
You were one of the reasons for me to go back to campus and now, I'm just not so sure.
Through the years at school, you've helped me to grow so much both in and outside of academia. Whether you knew it or not, you taught me it was okay to be scared, okay to fail, as long as I bounced back stronger and harder.
You are my inspiration.
I've known about your battle with cancer since sophomore year. When you were out all of those weeks undergoing chemo, I prayed for you to come back. I missed you so much then, and will miss you even more now.
You were so strong, I never thought you'd lose the fight; I just can't believe it.
Not many knew of your fight with cancer, but I did. Not many knew that you were there late at night, running labs, correcting our papers, and holding one-on-one help sessions, while trying to battle this disgusting disease.
And now its taken you from us. Its impossible to believe, but I guess God needed you more than we did.
I will never forget your strength, your work ethic, your determination to make me better, to make me reach my potential.
I am a better human being because of you.
You taught me to be humble, to fight through everything, to care for others. You inspired me to love teaching, to never give up, and especially to help those who needed it the most.
When I first met you in freshman year chem lab, I was a cocky, selfish kid who thought I would ace everything that was thrown at me. Boy, was I wrong.
Getting C's on my first two lab reports was a wake-up call: Rich, get your shit together cuz you're not as good as you think you are.
So, I worked. You met with me individually. Helped me to correct my writing, to learn and think and write like a scientist. All the while, fighting cancer but never once using it as an excuse to quit.
And you never did. I bet you were worried about all of your students, all of us, right up until the end.
I wish I could have thanked you more. I wish I could have let you know how much you meant to me, but honestly, nothing could have shown it.
Whether we knew it or not, you made all of us better.
My favorite memory of us:
Its senior year, I had just finished an SI session and thought I'd swing by to see if you were in your office. Even tho it was 8pm, I knew that it was close to the end of the semester and you'd probably be in your office grading the 100s of lab reports you always took the time out to grade yourself.
I swung by and of course, peeking into look, you had stacks of ungraded lab reports, but not much to my surprise you were sitting with two students helping them tweak their finals.
8pm on a Tuesday night, fighting the chemo, fighting everything, you were there, helping your students.
I'm glad I stuck around. You see, this had been probably the worst week of my life. I had gotten the last 6 rejection letters from medical school, in a span of 4 days. In my mind, my life was lost, and I was doing everything left at Trinity in vain.
Sure I had job interviews, but to me, I was a failure.
You must have seen the pain in my face, the pain in my body language because you quickly finished up with the students and ushered me in closing the door.
"what's wrong?"
"I'm a failure. I let everyone down." ... and began crying. and I didn't really stop; you let me bawl it out (how embarrassing)... and then gave me big hug.
It was probably the most comforting moment of my life, and for some reason, with no words and just that hug, you made it OK. You made me realize that all I had to do was bounce back, try again, work harder, and I'd get into school.
Until Trinity, I had never met anyone like you. So inspiring, never arrogant, always loving. You were the backbone of that department and you were the big reason why I stayed in Clement. Its funny, looking back, all of the chem/biochem majors that stuck around, we were always so passionate about our chem classes. Loved our building so much that we stayed there at all hours of the night, choosing our building over the library, over everywhere else.
I hope you realized that you, indirectly or directly, chose us. You helped weed out the kids who didn't fit the mold, and even recruited other majors who should have been with us.
I could write a book on how much you've done for me through my 4 years at Trinity and will never forget our last hug this past spring.
Professor Nestor, I will do my best to make you proud, even though you would say that you were always proud of me, even when I was that pompous asshole that walked into your lab.
I will do my best to always work hard.
I will do my best to always help others, especially those who need help the most.
I will do my best to be the best teacher I can be without putting anyone down and treating everyone as equals.
I will do my best to live up to your example, knowing that I never could.
I will always remember you as one of my favorite people.
I will always love you as a mentor, a teacher, and most of all, as a close friend.
As I sit here, crying, trying to finish up a manuscript (which I never would have learned to write correctly without you), I cannot help but think of you and miss you so much.
I am hoping you can read this, and can feel my pain, knowing that you meant so much to me, to all of us, who knew you, and knew how much you loved us without judgment, without question.
Professor Nestor, please, rest in peace, and take that time off that you so much deserve.
I hope you are smiling, wherever you are, tending to that that marvelous garden you always spoke about.
I love you and you will be sorely missed.
With all of my love,
Rich
I will miss you.
I hope you knew that you were the reason for so many good influences in my life. You always challenged me to be perfect, never waivering, always offering a kind word and a hug whenever i needed it.
Words cannot express what I owe you, and how much I will miss seeing you.
You were one of the reasons for me to go back to campus and now, I'm just not so sure.
Through the years at school, you've helped me to grow so much both in and outside of academia. Whether you knew it or not, you taught me it was okay to be scared, okay to fail, as long as I bounced back stronger and harder.
You are my inspiration.
I've known about your battle with cancer since sophomore year. When you were out all of those weeks undergoing chemo, I prayed for you to come back. I missed you so much then, and will miss you even more now.
You were so strong, I never thought you'd lose the fight; I just can't believe it.
Not many knew of your fight with cancer, but I did. Not many knew that you were there late at night, running labs, correcting our papers, and holding one-on-one help sessions, while trying to battle this disgusting disease.
And now its taken you from us. Its impossible to believe, but I guess God needed you more than we did.
I will never forget your strength, your work ethic, your determination to make me better, to make me reach my potential.
I am a better human being because of you.
You taught me to be humble, to fight through everything, to care for others. You inspired me to love teaching, to never give up, and especially to help those who needed it the most.
When I first met you in freshman year chem lab, I was a cocky, selfish kid who thought I would ace everything that was thrown at me. Boy, was I wrong.
Getting C's on my first two lab reports was a wake-up call: Rich, get your shit together cuz you're not as good as you think you are.
So, I worked. You met with me individually. Helped me to correct my writing, to learn and think and write like a scientist. All the while, fighting cancer but never once using it as an excuse to quit.
And you never did. I bet you were worried about all of your students, all of us, right up until the end.
I wish I could have thanked you more. I wish I could have let you know how much you meant to me, but honestly, nothing could have shown it.
Whether we knew it or not, you made all of us better.
My favorite memory of us:
Its senior year, I had just finished an SI session and thought I'd swing by to see if you were in your office. Even tho it was 8pm, I knew that it was close to the end of the semester and you'd probably be in your office grading the 100s of lab reports you always took the time out to grade yourself.
I swung by and of course, peeking into look, you had stacks of ungraded lab reports, but not much to my surprise you were sitting with two students helping them tweak their finals.
8pm on a Tuesday night, fighting the chemo, fighting everything, you were there, helping your students.
I'm glad I stuck around. You see, this had been probably the worst week of my life. I had gotten the last 6 rejection letters from medical school, in a span of 4 days. In my mind, my life was lost, and I was doing everything left at Trinity in vain.
Sure I had job interviews, but to me, I was a failure.
You must have seen the pain in my face, the pain in my body language because you quickly finished up with the students and ushered me in closing the door.
"what's wrong?"
"I'm a failure. I let everyone down." ... and began crying. and I didn't really stop; you let me bawl it out (how embarrassing)... and then gave me big hug.
It was probably the most comforting moment of my life, and for some reason, with no words and just that hug, you made it OK. You made me realize that all I had to do was bounce back, try again, work harder, and I'd get into school.
Until Trinity, I had never met anyone like you. So inspiring, never arrogant, always loving. You were the backbone of that department and you were the big reason why I stayed in Clement. Its funny, looking back, all of the chem/biochem majors that stuck around, we were always so passionate about our chem classes. Loved our building so much that we stayed there at all hours of the night, choosing our building over the library, over everywhere else.
I hope you realized that you, indirectly or directly, chose us. You helped weed out the kids who didn't fit the mold, and even recruited other majors who should have been with us.
I could write a book on how much you've done for me through my 4 years at Trinity and will never forget our last hug this past spring.
Professor Nestor, I will do my best to make you proud, even though you would say that you were always proud of me, even when I was that pompous asshole that walked into your lab.
I will do my best to always work hard.
I will do my best to always help others, especially those who need help the most.
I will do my best to be the best teacher I can be without putting anyone down and treating everyone as equals.
I will do my best to live up to your example, knowing that I never could.
I will always remember you as one of my favorite people.
I will always love you as a mentor, a teacher, and most of all, as a close friend.
As I sit here, crying, trying to finish up a manuscript (which I never would have learned to write correctly without you), I cannot help but think of you and miss you so much.
I am hoping you can read this, and can feel my pain, knowing that you meant so much to me, to all of us, who knew you, and knew how much you loved us without judgment, without question.
Professor Nestor, please, rest in peace, and take that time off that you so much deserve.
I hope you are smiling, wherever you are, tending to that that marvelous garden you always spoke about.
I love you and you will be sorely missed.
With all of my love,
Rich
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