Episode Transcript
[00:00:10] Speaker A: You're listening to the Weighing in podcast, the show that brings you inside the Daily Gazette's featured news column.
And now here's your host, writer of the Weighing in column, Andrew Waite.
[00:00:25] Speaker B: U.
I'm Andrew Waite. Thanks for listening. So five years ago, I got a stomachache that just didn't go away. I was 31 when it happened. I had a nearly one year old daughter, was a husband, and after a couple days, the pain became so intense that I ended up taking an Uber to an emergency room in Seattle, where I was living at the time, and checking into that hospital at 03:39 a.m. I still remember that time. And it turned out that I had several blood clots, including a clot between my stomach and small intestine that was cutting off all blood flow. And I ended up being rushed into emergency surgery to remove what was a dead part of my small intestines. And I saw pictures of it later, and it was a two foot stretch, and it looked like charred Kilbasa.
And thankfully, that surgery was successful, and I'm still here today. But after doctors told me just how close I came to dying, the clots could have affected my heart or my brain. And my body was hours away from going septic. And I spent nearly a week in the hospital after that surgery, recovering, just getting strong enough to walk.
And in my hospital bed, I would look down often at my ID bracelet on my wrist, which labeled me as a 31 year old male.
And I thought about how that could have been it. I could have been dead at 31. And in some ways, that would have been what my life was reduced to. A 31 year old man died too soon. And I guess as a result of that, I'm sort of always attuned to the age 31. And if there's the death of a 31 year old, it brings me immediately back to my clotting incident. And especially this time of year, since my surgery was on December 9, this is the anniversary. So my sensitivities are kind of on overdrive, which I think is why I was so affected by the death last month of 31 year old Liam Pickett, who was a beloved chemistry teacher at Amsterdam High school. And he loved theater as much as he loved teaching.
And he died of a surprise medical incident. Different in the details, but ultimately not all that different from a surprise medical incident that nearly killed me.
And even before Liam's death, I'd been thinking about how, with the upcoming five year anniversary of my surgery, I've kind of lost sight of the perspective I had immediately following that surgery and after that clotting, I promised myself I would live in the moment and truly embrace life's simple joys.
But I think that that's easier said than done. And as we get bogged down by everyday stressors, we tend to focus on the negative rather than the positive.
And so with Pickett's death, I'm trying to recommit myself to enjoying life as it comes. And I hope that that's something that maybe for all of us can come out of Pickett's death. And so I wrote a piece that was looking at that. Here's that piece.
[00:03:54] Speaker A: You're listening to, the weighing in podcast with columnist Andrew Wait.
[00:04:06] Speaker B: The death of a 31 year old man will always stop me cold, and the news of beloved 31 year old teacher Liam Pickett's far too early death last month was especially arresting, even though I didn't know him. That's because it came as I was preparing to mark the five year anniversary of the night I almost died when in a hospital thousands of miles from here, I wore an ID bracelet describing me as a 31 year old male. I was 31 and the father of a nearly one year old daughter on a Thursday in early December 2018, when a bad stomach ache never went away. By Saturday night, after medication failed to clear what a doctor assumed to be a severe case of gastritis, I rode in crippling pain in the backseat of an Uber to a Seattle emergency room, checking in just after 03:30 a.m. On Sunday, December 9, 2018, the ER doctor ordered a scan that found multiple blood clots, the most dire of which had stopped the flow between my stomach and small intestine. I was rushed into surgery so doctors could remove what I would later learn was a charred looking two foot stretch of my insides. I would also learn later that the clots could have traveled anywhere, to my heart, my brain and my body had been hours away from going septic. As I faded away into the fog of anesthesia, I closed my eyes, knowing it might be for the last time. A small part of me thought about how much, at 31, I'd still hoped to do in life, even as I'd been fortunate enough to live the life I was given. But mostly, I was just so relieved that the pain was finally easing. So, yeah, the unexpected and tragic death of a caring 31 year old Amsterdam high School chemistry teacher resonated for me. Reading about Pickett's sudden burst aortic artery shortly after teaching his final class on November 28 was a shocking reminder of life's fleeting nature. As reporter Amira Ditchi detailed, the Niski uni native was in his prime. As creative as he was methodical, Pickett was unafraid to combine two of his passions, teaching and theater. And as one student recalled in the WNYT segment in which Pickett was honored as a 2019 top teacher, the young educator's whimsy meant Pickett could be found wearing a full wizard costume to infuse a science lesson with a little magic. When someone is giving and thoughtful. As Pickett dies so young, it feels as though the world is cursed. We're consumed by the heartache and overwhelmed by the loss not only of the life he lived, but also of the life he'd yet to live. He died at just 31. Nothing about that is fair, and the death of a dynamic, motivational 31 year old teacher can make the world feel even more confusing and random. Why is one person taken and another spared? I'll tell you that the moment I woke up in the intensive care unit remains the most euphoric of my life. The room inside that Seattle Hospital was bright, and my wife was by my side. The blinking machines indicated I'd been given another chance. And in those first few months after the clotting, a medical mystery that remains unsolved, I vowed to take a different approach to life. I promised to myself I'd live more in the moment, focus on the thrill of bike rides and cold water swims, and concern myself less with daily hardships. But five years on, while the whole ordeal has instilled valuable perspective about appreciating life and caused me to marvel at the small miracle that is pumping blood, if I'm being honest, I've lost sight of much of the zeal I had immediately after my surgery. I'm not immune to the stress of deadlines. I lose my patience with my kids, including the son I wouldn't have had if that night five years ago had ended differently. And after writing in March of 2019 about wanting to savor more of life's simple pleasures, like opting for leisurely mugs of hot chocolate with family rather than cups of coffee consumed hastily for the caffeine, I fear I've too often chosen bitterness over sweetness. I fear whatever epiphany I had inside that intensive care unit has been as impeded by daily life as clotted veins. Pickett's premature passing is a reminder for all of us to focus on what matters in life. In the article Remembering Pickett, one of his theater companions described him as wishing he could do more. The last time I saw him, I saw him a few weeks ago, he was apologizing for not being more involved in my company, friend Patrick White shared. I was like, what are you talking about? How could you be more active? He was always involved. He was always out and about. That sounds like so many of us, doesn't it? Preoccupied by thoughts of how we could be better fixated on our regrets. I sometimes catch myself more attuned to pain than to joy. Pickett was clearly a gifted teacher, unique in his approach, such as when he designed murder mystery lesson themes.
Hopefully he knew how much he was admired and adored. Hopefully he wouldn't be surprised to learn that a four by six foot piece of paper outside his classroom would be so bursting with students warm messages of gratitude and love that a second sheet was needed almost immediately. Hopefully the inspirational teacher can help us remember that at 31, at any age, we are all so full of life.
[00:09:21] Speaker A: You're listening to the weighing in podcast with columnist Andrew Wait.
[00:09:34] Speaker B: And now here's a reader response.
I wrote a column recently about investigations in the Saratoga Springs School District into certain athletic programs and whether coaches have been abusing student athletes over the years. And the school has recently hired outside counsel to investigate. And at the meeting at which they hired that council, there were several people who spoke up kind of in support of the coaches and basically saying that that's the price of success, that students need to be worked hard, that the demanding nature of athletics requires discipline, requires restrictions of diet, et cetera, which were some of the abuses that were alleged.
And I just wrote a piece about how it's kind of short sighted to focus on the athletic success in the near term. Because while it may be true that there's sacrifice needed to perform well, trauma that manifests from abusive coaching, if that is the case, that might not actually manifest until decades down the line and affect a person's career, relationships. And so I wrote a piece looking at that and got this reaction. It's fairly long. I won't read the whole thing. I'll give you just some of it. All right, so here is John from Bolston Spa.
I agree that the investigation should conclude, but I have known Linda Crannick, who is a running coach, who is one of the subjects of the investigation. I've known Linda Crannick for many years, and I know they're tough on kids. She and her husband, the Crannix, are the coaches in question. Some of the coaches in questions here. They have the best program in the entire United States, and to be that, they have to be tough. I don't think they abuse girls, but let's be honest, running is a sport where weight does matter. I'm not saying you have to develop an eating disorder, but unlike other sports, female runners, unless they have a tremendous metabolism, have to stay away from donuts and other foods that other athletes may get to eat. I'm not saying that's the right thing, and surely you have to be careful in how the message is worded. But I have run, coached and followed running for 40 years. As girls develop, they often get slower because they gain weight naturally and beautifully. I might add in the hips and breasts. The good ones adjust. But if you look at cross country results, often the best runners are 8th graders, 9th graders, even 7th graders. That's because they are sticks.
I have seen great 7th graders slow down as they get older. It's just the nature of that sport for women. Boys get stronger as they mature and it helps them. Then John writes, I went to school at SUNY Brockport. We had a wrestling coach there who used to visit the school library at night to make sure his wrestlers were studying. He told them they better stay out of the bars and cannot have girlfriends. He was tough, but he won several national championships. Now, I knew some of the guys. They managed to hide their girlfriends, but some couldn't take it and quit. It's easy to say that if you don't like how the Krannocks coached, then just quit. But that is easier said than done because kids want to be part of something as slow as my daughters were, and my youngest was one of the last ten finishers in every race. They didn't want to quit because they enjoyed the experience. And being on a team to be great, you have to be tough. There is a fine line, but I do not think the Krannix crossed it. They hovered on it for sure, but until you can prove they crossed it, why would you not let them coach track and field? Okay, that's from John, and then just share a short one from Denise about a piece I wrote about council member Carl Williams, who I wrote saying that amid this fractious council, it's time for Williams to step up as a potential divide between council members who support Mayor Gary McCarthy and those who have been oppositional. So Denise writes yet another thoughtful column. I agree that Councilmember Williams has leadership potential. My conversations with him have been few, but he impressed me with his thoughtful responses. That's it for this week's episode. Thanks to Aaron Palaya, who provides marketing for this podcast, and Jim Gilbert, who handles production. I'm Andrew Waite. Take care.
