MY LUCKY BAMBOO

If the plant could thrive, maybe I could too, even with cancer

- David Meyers

MY WIFE, Hannah, and I don't usually keep houseplants. Anything in pots gets either overwatered or underwatered. But after my diagnosis with glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer, with a prognosis of little more than a year to live, I loved the idea of having something new and green around.

My friend Mitch gave me what he said was a lucky bamboo plant in a deep-green pottery bowl with three pencil-size stalks braided together. We placed the plant in the living room window across from the couch where I spent much of the day. I smiled when I looked at it over the rim of the mug of coffee Hannah brought me each morning.

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. Glioblastoma limited my ability to walk, and the treatment left me fatigued, 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.