What's in a name?
I've gotten various pronunciations and spellings of my name over the years. Eventually, I just fell back to any nickname of Ed to not bother people over introductions, Eddie my most common pick.
Eddie G, the silly guy in high school.
If it was up to my dad, I would have just been named Nelson. But my mom had different plans than a George Foreman kinda deal.
Eduardo Francisco Mendez Vargas, my grandfather, my namesake.
I never got a chance to meet you, cancer took you away before I was ever even in the picture.
You met my dad though. You were remembered as a very kind and compassionate man; almost everyone in San Pedro back then knew who you were even if it was a small town at the time.
You made 3 best friends for life who all stuck by each other, right until your death. They said you 4 were a force. You went out of your way to help people; you always wished you could have done better to put your 12 children through college. Never was enough I guess?
My mom was a silly little girl one day, and played hide and seek where she shouldn't have. She ended up majorly lacerating the medial side of her right foot, you were away getting things done for your little brush business.
It was pretty bad, right to bone, right across the whole foot.
Her grandmother saw to pack the wound with ground coffee to stop the bleeding, there wasn't much then. The closest hospital was in the capital, about 30 minutes by bus? San Pedro, your town, had no transportation back then. The closest bus stop was in Coronado.
You got back late that night from work, you weren't happy. That wasn't good enough, your daughter needed to go to the hospital. She could lose her leg. Your family was saying it was way too far of a walk to catch the bus in Coronado, let alone San Jose.
That didn't stop you. You took my mom and put her over your shoulders, and you walked to catch the earliest bus in Coronado and trekked to the capital. The docs took a look, it wasn't gonna be a simple sew job. Contaminated open wound, going for quite a few hours now.
They needed you to keep coming back for aggressive wound care.
So you made the same hike every other day to the capital to get your daughter her care, while balancing work. A perk of self-owned businesses.
Whatever they did in San Jose worked, my mom still has her foot. The scar is still there to this day. Quite a few stories defined who you were. Your children still think about you and miss you.
Mom remembers the most important thing you taught her:
"Be humble; don't pretend to be something you aren't, always carry what you feel in your heart and be honest with yourself."
Bernardo Mendez and Catalina Vargas passed this on to you, whom you passed on to my mother who passed it on to me.
At my lowest points, I always go back to what has been ingrained in me, in my name. I stumble here and there, but if I can live up to even a fraction of what went into my name, I will be content. It’s almost like a hand pushing me forward when I can’t budge anymore.
As I look at the profession I have chosen, I look back to this story of my grandfather and my mother. This journey we students chose is long and unforgiving to our wellbeing and the chaos that life can bring. The delayed gratification, the pursuit of performance for the well-being of our patients. At times, even demanding that we put a mask over our struggles. To anyone outside this field, it could be easily interpreted as selfish or self-centered. The only ones who truly understand what we go through is our own classmates and mentors. This point, in my belief, makes it crucial that we all try our best to be supportive of each other. You never know what someone is going through outside of our medical bubble. Physicians have to wear masks for our patients after all. But that doesn’t mean we are barred from seeking help either.
What’s in a name?
Sometimes a memory of which to follow. A wildcard that simply can't be taken from you, no matter how hard life tries.
I like my name, maybe I should go by it more often.