Rosemary Quigley (1971 to 2004)

Rosemary Quigley, whom I never met, was a Baylor University medical ethicist, trained as a lawyer, who died in 2004 as the result of having cystic fibrosis. I became a fan by reading her obituary in the Boston Globe.

That, in turn, led me to one of Rosemary Quigley's friends from high school, Rick Klau, via his blog. Rick, in turn, helped me connect with Rosemary Quigley's family, to which I wanted to offer my respect and admiration, in light of my personal interest in cystic fibrosis. Rick, I discovered, found his having facilitated that connection to be a remarkable moment in the history of his blogging, so much so that he commented on it publicly when making a presentation to a Lutheran group on the value of using the internet for building spiritual communities.

So I thought that the least I could do would be to comment on that in my own blog -- and, more importantly, post some words penned by Rosemary Quigley that I continue to think of as among the most inspiring sentiments I have ever read:

"These days I am often awake in the hours before sunrise. I wonder what future lives will inhabit my tiny studio apartment--who will read my copy of Gatsby, moderate debates on organ procurement, visit the hospice patient in the nursing home. And though I worry that I do not exist uniquely enough to make a tangible difference, I think enough of myself to believe the world will lose something without my verve. Disease has given me license to be outrageous and demanding; those who don't have the context for these characteristics cannot grasp me. I am discouraged by people who confer admiration on my most basic accomplishments; I seek supporters who never think I have done too much, who will push me further for as long as possible. I focus my spirit to outlast my withering body. Illness trumps the freedom to pick one's fights.

Like generations before me, I ponder my stunted legacy. Some say I am too young and vital to do so. But it is a soldier's preoccupation."

p.s. That's not Rosemary Quigley in the photograph -- it's my daughter, when she was four. she just turned six.