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SAN ANTONIO
MEDICINE

The Study of Life, Revisited

By Winona Gbedey

I wanted to say something profoundly beautiful and philosophical I am fortunate that when I think of death, I think of my cat. My family,
about my experiences during quarantine, but when I sat down to write my friends, they are all still with me—something I am even more grateful
this, all I could think about was my cat. for now, as SARS-CoV-2 continuously sweeps across the country, claim-
She died in the spring of 2017, a few hours before my organic chem- ing lives like the Grim Reaper. When I turn on the television or tap my
istry final. As I racked my brain, searching for the answers to complicated news app, I am inundated by stories of families saying their goodbyes
scientific principles that still elude me, my beloved pet of twelve years through an iPad screen while their loved one lays unconscious, alone, en-
lay lifeless at the foot of our stairs. My parents told me what had hap- tangled in a mess of tubes and cords. Their stories remind me that I am
pened when I returned home. It was quick, they said, unexpected, shock- one of the lucky few who does not yet know the pain of losing someone.
ing. It was too much, so they didn’t want me to dwell on it while I was And then, all of a sudden, I begin thinking about my cat.
taking my exams. Grief, I soon discovered, could be all-consuming. I cannot pretend that losing a beloved pet is the same as losing a
Reconciling my last memories of Tiger with the knowledge that she beloved person. But I can say this: Tiger’s death still hurts because she
was gone was difficult. Sometimes it still is. Unlike my family, I didn’t was loved. In a strange turn of events, the pandemic has taught me that
see her wither away over a course of three days. I never got that time to all grief is valid because all grief comes from a place of love. The way oth-
flip the switch, to think maybe this is the end. To me, Tiger is still the vi- ers describe their pain mirrors the way I speak of mine; in those mo-
vacious little thing who loved to curl up next to me and vibrate my body ments, we are the same, mourning the loss of someone we loved.
with the force of her purr. Except she isn’t here anymore. I imagine this When biology claims another piece of my soul, Tiger’s death will not
is what it’s like for most people who lose someone unexpectedly: disbelief ache any less than it does now. The parts of me that I gave to her may not
and grief that indefinitely sticks to you like super glue. be as large as the ones I give my parents, my brother, my best friends or
Because of the pandemic, I find myself thinking about how fickle life my future partner, but she has a part of my heart nonetheless. One day I
is constantly—how it unexpectedly vanishes into the night while the rest will know what it is like to lose someone. But for now, I think of my cat.
of the world sleeps. After many hours in more quarantine-induced exis-
tential crises than I can remember, I’ve come to the conclusion that life Winona Gbedey is a medical student at the Long School of
is so fleeting because it is ruled by biology. Biology demands that all living Medicine, UT Health San Antonio, Class of 2023.
things expire eventually, no matter how much they are loved. Despite
the place I had carved in my heart for her, it was Tiger’s time to go. Bi-
ology didn’t care.

36 SAN ANTONIO MEDICINE • July 2021