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In hopes to reconcile my hardships and harvest once again the plentiful beatitude of our dear friendship, I write to you know to express a rather tragic story. I trust that in telling you this "petite histoire de ma perte," you will be encouraged to express your own sympathy and understanding to me in my suffering. Always suffering.
On October 7th, 2007, I was discovered by the San Francisco Fire Department, unconcious and deathly ill, laying in a pool of my own blood and urine in the soiled and dirty bed of my sparse, little studio apartment. My teeth were falling out and my face was blackened by a severe bacterial infaction. In addition, I was suffering from a miserable case of PCP pneumonia.
The fire department rushed me to Saint Francis Memorial Hospital, where I remained for two weeks unconscious to the world. the doctors there were forced to perform a kidney dialysis on me for which they were required to contact my father in Massachusetts for permission. The tried to control and defeat the bacterial infection of the face, but unfortunately were unsuccessful.
After two weeks of severe illness, I was transfered by ambulance to UCSF Medical Center to undergo emergency debridement surgery. The doctors there immediately amputated the dead bone and tissue from my face. For all of this, I was still unconscious. when I eventually woke up, I had the dreadful experience of looking in the mirror to see half of my face missing. I no longer had a mouth or half a nose. All that remained was a gaping hole above my chin. It was all together the most terrifying sight I have ever had to witness, and it was all me, myself, my small stature, weak, humorless, contrite self that was suffering from this unfathomable loss of face.
I remained at UCSF for one month (until Thanksgiving) while they worked to upset and alleviate the pneumonia. They were, praise God, successful at saving my life. Then I was transferred back to Saint Francis, where I remained through the New Year and after. I could not go home because the hole in my face keeps me from being able to eat or drink orally. Therefore, I was semipermanently linked to a Gastrointestinal Tube for feeding. I had to learn to talk without lips and to smell again -- all this in preparation for facial reconstruction surgery.
Halfway through January, I was transfered to the permanent acute medical residency at the Laguna Honda Hospital & Rehabilitation Center. This is where I am writing to you now. I remained here for two weeks, until the first of my multiple facial reconstructive surgeries scheduled for January 30th.
On the 30th of January, I was transferred for a two week stay at San Francisco General Hospital, where the plastic surgeons conducted what they attested to be a very successful cosmetic operation to replace the missing bone and skin of my upper jaw. They took a rather large piece of flesh for my lower leg and bone from my fibula to graft on my face.
For the two recent weeks at the start of February, I remained in intensive care, suffering from immense pain and swelling. As the inflammation in my new face began to subside, I was able to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror to discover that I awfully resembled a cartoon version of a sea mammal: sea lion, walrus (without teeth), or manatee. It was a depressing sight, to say the least. I have to stay this way for 3 to 6 months, until my next surgery. Since November, I have been wearing surgical masks to cover my unsightly visage.
Laguna Honda is an old, antique hospital form the 1920's. I fortunately have a private room in what otherwise would be for me an open ward facility. There are 25 people on my ward: The Positive Care Unit (O4), all living with HIV. Most of the residents are elderly. I am the youngest person in the entire hospital. At 28, I can't say that I feel very at home. In fact, I am suffering form heightened anxiety.
The loneliness of the hospital setting is inexorably unbearable. I can't describe to you well enough the stark silence and motionlessness of laying in my hospital bed with nothing but the steady hum of an area fan and the quiet click and groan of my feeding machine to keep me company. I like to keep the door open to be able to watch people as they pass by: nurses and patients alike. As its rather uneventful on my ward, I generally anticipate with great enthusiasm the arrival of my good friend Curtis Moore, MPH, the Executive Director of Bay Area Young Positives. He is as outstanding a person as I fondly remember you to be.
Despite the humdrum atmosphere of the clinial setting, there are occassional activities organized by a very special woman: Melanie, the Art Therapist. The Social Workers have scheduled various times during the week to keep me occupied and to have my mind remain safe from negative emotions. They are Jackie and Stephanie.
In fact, I just had a sit-in with Stephanie today, and I told here my life story ever since the day you discovered me in our dorm room senior year at William & Mary, trying to end my own life. I told her about you, your studies at Boalt Berkeley Law and your trips to Venezuela to study the Warao. Is that where you are now? I told her that you are my best friend. Is it appropriate to refer to you as such now after such time and distance? I dearly hope that I have your confidence still as such.
Above all else, beyond the pain and terror of losing my face, past all the despair and psychological turmoil, I know one thing to be certain: I miss you!! and I love you with as much of my heart as can be spared. I am terribly sorry that there has been such silence between us ever since you left the Bay Area. I dream to know of what amazing adventures your young life continues to lead you on. I expect that you are still as diligent and driven a social activist as ever I'll know in this world. I yearn to hear your stories, and I gladly anticipate your return to the states.
I love you, Peter! And I wish you the best of health and happiness while you are away from the country. I look forward to talking with you upon your return. Please stay safe and continue to be that super hero we all have learned to love so dearly. You are my heart and soul. I am so proud to have you as a friend. God Bless and good tidings. À Bientôt mon meilleur ami! You are my hero.
With the greatest amount of love and admiration...
In a state of undeniable despair, but ...
Full of hope and wanting to reconnect.
Your dear friend,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
