My lucky bamboo

My wife Hannah, and I don’t usually keep houseplants. Anything in pots gets either overwatered or underwatered. But after my diagnosis (诊断) with a brain cancer, I loved the idea of havingsomething new and green around.

My friend Mitch gave me what he said was a lucky bamboo plant in a deep-green container. We placed the plant in the living room window across from the sofa where I spent much of the day.

I told Hannah I wanted to care for the plant myself. When it didn’t immediately turn yellow or brown or lose all its leaves, I was pleasantly surprised.

Tending to the plant gave me a sense of accomplishment at a time when I sometimes felt useless. The cancer limited my ability to walk, and the treatment left me worn out, making it hard for me to accomplish everyday tasks. As a family physician, I was used to being the one who provided care, not the one who received it.

Since my diagnosis, it seemed that I had to rely on help from other people. The enormous change left me feeling unsettled. Watering the plant, as small an act as it was, connected me to a core part of my old identity and taught me I could still be a caregiver.

Over the next few months, I recovered from surgery and completed treatment afterwards. Even after I returned to work, I continued to care for the plant. Soon, it had nearly doubled in height and its leaves were shiny. Both the tree and I were thriving(茁壮成长).

Then, surprisingly, it began to show signs of stress. I increased my watering. I fed it commercial plant food. No matter what I did, the leaves kept browning and dropping to the floor.

I grew more and more discouraged and uneasy. “I can’t even care for a simple plant!” I yelled. “I’m failing!”Hannah reminded me that we’d seen houseplants die before. She asked me why I was getting so worked up about this particular one.

“If my lucky bamboo dies,” I said, “I might die too!”

As my anxiety decreased, I began to dig into online courses to help me figure out how to care for my ailing (状况不佳的) plant.

She came into my life when I was seven years old. My dad found her at work. She was wandering and starving. He took one look at her, and said, “Seems like you could use a good home.” He opened up the door to his truck and she jumped in. Her tail wagged (摇动) all the way.   

I was still at school when dad arrived home with the puppy. Mom and dad fed her and gave her a bath. This would be my first pet.

I had always wanted a dog. My parents told me when I was old enough and responsible, I could have one. Well, I guess they figured the time was right.

When I walked back home, a white and black puppy with a red bow stuck to her head greeted me with many many puppy kisses. A wild joy took hold of me and a very special friendship was born that day.

Now she needed a name. My older brother laughed at her and said her tail didn’t wag back and forth like others, but went in a circle. He moved his finger around his ear, and said, “She’s squirrely”. Thus my puppy got her name, Squirrely.

Squirrely was a smart dog and brought me much joy.

However, arthritis (关节炎) hit my best friend when she was 12.

On a sunny day with no clouds, Sally sat on a chair in the garden, hemming (缝边) a handkerchief. All of a sudden, there came a little ant. It was in such a hurry. Finally it ran across the small stone table and stopped by her side. The sewing was not done, for Sally easily got a little bit distracted by this little ant. Suddenly, she dropped her thimble (顶针) over the little ant by accident while she was looking at it.“Can it mind? But it is only such a little tiny thing,”said Sally in doubt.

Then Sally ran away, for her mother called her to have lunch, and she forgot all about the ant under the thimble and the handkerchief outside. There the little ant was, running round and round in the dark place, with little horns on its head quivering, little perfect legs bending as beautifully as those of a racehorse, and it was very scared.

If Sally had remembered the ant, she would have heard this little ant say, “I can’t get out! I can’t get out! Is there anyone out there? Can someone help me out?” But unfortunately, till the bedtime, Sally failed to hear the little ant's silent calling and just went to sleep. In the midnight, there was thunder, lightning and heavy rain. The next day, when Sally woke up, she came to the garden, only to find the handkerchief was soaked (湿透的) as if somebody had been crying very much. When she was about to fetch it as soon as the sun shone, it suddenly came to her who was under the thimble. “Oh, how could I forget that little ant? I hope the little ant is doing fine,”said Sally, running with her worried face.

But when she lifted up the thimble, what came to her sight was the little tiny an t lay stiff and still. It seemed like this little poor thing was away from this world. “Oh, did it die of being under the thimble?”Sally said aloud with her trembling voice. “Why did you do that, Sally?”said her father, who was close by and looked unsatisfied.

Nada Popovici was at a professional hockey (曲棍球) game. She kept looking at the back of the man’s neck. She wrote a message with the words “mole (痣)”“cancer” and “doctor” on her phone in bright red type. She did it to get the attention of the man, Brian Hamilton. He is an assistant equipment manager for the Vancouver Canucks hockey team.

Mr. Hamilton had a small mole on his neck. It was irregularly shaped and red-brown. These are the signs of a cancerous mole that Ms. Popovici had learned to spot. Maybe he already knew? But if so, why was the mole still there? She thought that Mr. Hamilton did not know.

“I need to tell him.” Ms. Popovici typed a message on her phone. The game ended. After waving at him several times, she finally drew Mr. Hamilton's attention. She placed her phone against the glass. The message read, “The mole on the back of your neck is possibly cancerous. Please go see a doctor!”

Mr. Hamilton looked at the message, rubbed the back of his neck, and kept walking. He was thinking, “Well, that’s strange.”

After the game, Mr. Hamilton went home and asked his partner to spot the mole, and she said she could. He asked the team doctor if it was worrisome. It was. Then after he had it removed, he waited for the biopsy (活检) results. Was the fan sitting behind the team's bench right？

Indeed, Ms. Popovici was correct. She had saved Hamilton’s life. Doctors later told him that it was a type of skin cancer. They said they could remove with ease and treat. But early detection is important. “The sooner you find something, the better it is,” a doctor said.

Mr. Hamilton recalled the doctor telling him, “I am going to diagnose you with cancer. And I am going to cure you of cancer in the same phone call.”

Once he knew he was fine, Mr. Hamilton tried to find the woman he described as “a hero”.

Mr. Hamilton wrote a letter posted on the team’s Twitter account.

A couple of days later, at the next game, they met each other.