Uncle Joe

“Being alive is a wonderful thing, but the price you pay… well its not free”

-Uncle Joe

Uncle Joe might have been the first volunteer I met at SVDP. I remember coming to visit the men’s center last June, a few months before I began work. He handed me an old, tattered, three ring binder from his backpack. It was filled with yellowing photographs, certificates, and mementos that Joe had collected during his years of volunteer work. He believed in what he was doing. About half of the volunteers I spoke with that day told me that they had been here since the start. Later that day, Steve told me Joe was one of the few who had actually been here since the start.

Jumping forward to my first day of work; I sat flipping through some binders that last year’s JV, Joe Adams, had very kindly put together for me. I spent most of the day reading and listening to the people I met, trying to get a feel for what I would be doing for the next year of my life. Joe came over to me, “It’s a fun place; things will get better and better.” By my second week of work, I began to find bags of food in my office. From working with the last two JVs, Joe understood that we live on a tight stipend (100 dollars a month for food), and he always kept an eye out for us.

A couple of weeks ago, Joe found out that he had throat cancer. His voice had turned into a raspy whisper and he was rushed into the hospital for surgery.

I don’t know a lot about Joe’s past, but I do know that this guy is tough as nails. From what he told me, Joe completed two tours as an infantryman in Vietnam. He jumped out of airplanes and braved the infamous nighttime patrols. When I asked Joe about fear, he told me that the jungle took away his fear. Well that was Vietnam.

This week, Joe told me that he was afraid. The same guy that survived two gunshot wounds in the field, not to mention the streets of Oakland, had met a new adversary. He kept saying, “of all the things, f---ing cancer.” I asked Joe what made cancer different (as I sat in my comfortable chair at my desk… never having experienced either war or cancer). He whispered, “for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I am in control anymore. My killer is invisible.”

Rather than staying in the hospital, Joe chose to stay in my supervisor’s apartment above the men’s center. I don’t blame him… Saint Vincent’s is more fun than a hospital. The idea of lying in bed all day was really getting to Joe, who is accustomed to staying active and working hard. To help stave off the boredom, Joe visited my office every few hours to chat and take his mind off of the wrenching pain he was experiencing. I feel extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time with Joe. It’s hard to illustrate with words, but I learned a lot from the guy.