My best friend, my biggest supporter, and my greatest rolemodel -- my grandfather, John -- used to muse: Morgan, imagine all that you can and will be.... Most of the time as a young girl, I would giggle or shrug and go about my business, whether that was sitting back down in my chair next to one of his patient's receiving their chemotherapy or turning back to the DIY project we were tackling that morning. One of the most dedicated oncologists I've had the pleasure of knowing, my grandfather met the ultimate irony life could bestow when he himself was diagnosed with a rare sarcoma. In 2008, after years of his own fight, typically fought in the evenings after spending all day in clinic caring for others, cancer took away a great light from this earth. The love never diminishes and the missing never ceases. But now, instead of him doing the wondering, I do it for myself and I do it for him. Imagine all you can and will be...
It's near impossible to make it through either medical school or a cancer journey without once encountering Paul Kalanithi's memoir When Breath Becomes Air. Paul chronicles his journey as a neurosurgeon facing metastatic cancer elegantly, and while there are many passages that will certainly stick with the reader, two of his quotes in particular guide my own experience in medicine and life:
“Years ago, it had occurred to me that Darwin and Nietzsche agreed on one thing: the defining characteristic of the organism is striving...You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.”
“I don’t believe in the wisdom of children, nor in the wisdom of the old. There is a moment, a cusp, when the sum of gathered experience is worn down by the details of living. We are never so wise as when we live in the moment.”
In seeing, prolonging, and experiencing his own and other's suffering, my grandfather came to many of the same conclusions Paul had. My grandfather possessed an awe-inspiring drive mixed with a playful thirst for life. He worked the hardest to live each moment to the fullest. His day was not done until one person smiled a bit more and found their own moment of joy without pain. Curiosity and humor sustained him through the ups and the downs. It's because of him and his teaching that I am currently all that I've become, and I believe that it will be because of him that I will be all that I can be: someone ceasely striving for perfection while soaking up every moment. That's why I ride.
I wish I could say that my experience with my grandfather was my last run in with cancer. But I, as I anticipate you dear reader and hopeful donator have, have had many a run-in with cancer.
In 2016, my older brother had a seizure the day after I left New York City, where I had been living just a few blocks away from him for the summer. He was whisked to surgery faster than I could imagine and diagnosed with an astrocytoma that required months of chemo, radiation, and finally rehabilitation. (But he's an absolute rockstar and now raising money for kids with cancer, check out We Can Kick It www.wecankickit.org if you have a sec!)
Since 2021, as an Emergency Medicine resident working in the hospital associated with Dana Farber, I meet patients almost daily who've fought or are fighting their own battle. Their stories have impacted my own more than they could know. In imagining all that I can and will be, I hope that I can be a source of a smile, comfort, or less pain for my patients on a daily basis.
And over the last few months, friends have both been a stem cell transplant donor and recipient through Dana Farber. I ride as a part of team Bad Blood in support of the awe-inspiring Kevin who is working through recovery after his transplant at Dana Farber over the last couple of months (see more of Kev's story here: profile.pmc.org/JM1236).
I ride for myself, for my grandfather, for my brother, for my patients, for Kev, and for those who can't ride. Please consider supporting me and/or the many others raising money for a cause that affects so many. Imagine what together we all can and will be...
Cancer is so limited...It cannot cripple love. It cannot shatter hope. It cannot corrode faith. It cannot eat away peace. It cannot destroy confidence. It cannot kill friendship. It cannot shut out memories. It cannot silence courage.
I'm a proud supporter of the PMC because it is leading a charge to beat cancer. In fact, last year 100% of rider-raised revenue went directly to support the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's tireless commitment to finding a cure.
My best friend, my biggest supporter, and my greatest rolemodel -- my grandfather, John -- used to muse: Morgan, imagine all that you can and will be.... Most of the time as a young girl, I would giggle or shrug and go about my business, whether that was sitting back down in my chair next to one of his patient's receiving their chemotherapy or turning back to the DIY project we were tackling that morning. One of the most dedicated oncologists I've had the pleasure of knowing, my grandfather met the ultimate irony life could bestow when he himself was diagnosed with a rare sarcoma. In 2008, after years of his own fight, typically fought in the evenings after spending all day in clinic caring for others, cancer took away a great light from this earth. The love never diminishes and the missing never ceases. But now, instead of him doing the wondering, I do it for myself and I do it for him. Imagine all you can and will be...
It's near impossible to make it through either medical school or a cancer journey without once encountering Paul Kalanithi's memoir When Breath Becomes Air. Paul chronicles his journey as a neurosurgeon facing metastatic cancer elegantly, and while there are many passages that will certainly stick with the reader, two of his quotes in particular guide my own experience in medicine and life:
“Years ago, it had occurred to me that Darwin and Nietzsche agreed on one thing: the defining characteristic of the organism is striving...You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.”
“I don’t believe in the wisdom of children, nor in the wisdom of the old. There is a moment, a cusp, when the sum of gathered experience is worn down by the details of living. We are never so wise as when we live in the moment.”
In seeing, prolonging, and experiencing his own and other's suffering, my grandfather came to many of the same conclusions Paul had. My grandfather possessed an awe-inspiring drive mixed with a playful thirst for life. He worked the hardest to live each moment to the fullest. His day was not done until one person smiled a bit more and found their own moment of joy without pain. Curiosity and humor sustained him through the ups and the downs. It's because of him and his teaching that I am currently all that I've become, and I believe that it will be because of him that I will be all that I can be: someone ceasely striving for perfection while soaking up every moment. That's why I ride.
I wish I could say that my experience with my grandfather was my last run in with cancer. But I, as I anticipate you dear reader and hopeful donator have, have had many a run-in with cancer.
In 2016, my older brother had a seizure the day after I left New York City, where I had been living just a few blocks away from him for the summer. He was whisked to surgery faster than I could imagine and diagnosed with an astrocytoma that required months of chemo, radiation, and finally rehabilitation. (But he's an absolute rockstar and now raising money for kids with cancer, check out We Can Kick It www.wecankickit.org if you have a sec!)
Since 2021, as an Emergency Medicine resident working in the hospital associated with Dana Farber, I meet patients almost daily who've fought or are fighting their own battle. Their stories have impacted my own more than they could know. In imagining all that I can and will be, I hope that I can be a source of a smile, comfort, or less pain for my patients on a daily basis.
And over the last few months, friends have both been a stem cell transplant donor and recipient through Dana Farber. I ride as a part of team Bad Blood in support of the awe-inspiring Kevin who is working through recovery after his transplant at Dana Farber over the last couple of months (see more of Kev's story here: profile.pmc.org/JM1236).
I ride for myself, for my grandfather, for my brother, for my patients, for Kev, and for those who can't ride. Please consider supporting me and/or the many others raising money for a cause that affects so many. Imagine what together we all can and will be...
Cancer is so limited...It cannot cripple love. It cannot shatter hope. It cannot corrode faith. It cannot eat away peace. It cannot destroy confidence. It cannot kill friendship. It cannot shut out memories. It cannot silence courage.
I'm a proud supporter of the PMC because it is leading a charge to beat cancer. In fact, last year 100% of rider-raised revenue went directly to support the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's tireless commitment to finding a cure.
| 2023 | $8,690.00 | Sturbridge to Provincetown Monument (2-Day) |
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Morgan Sehdev