One year ago today, I was
at the maker fair in Accident, Maryland. 3-D printing, children painting, and
Lego creations surrounded me. In this
maelstrom of creativity, I learned that Jess Jacobs had died. Funny, delightful, caring Jess was gone.
In the year hence, we
dedicated a room in honor of Jess in Salt and Pepper Studios: Home of the Walking Gallery. People all over the country made
donations in her honor. I placed flowers
on our front walk dedicated to her memory.
Yesterday, Jess's sister Lauren Jacobs
was able to visit the studio. I was
honored to show her Jess’s room. Lauren
remarked on how much Jess would have loved the room. I built a large display case full of Jess’s
art within the doorway frame to the adjoining bedroom. I think there is a kind of poetry in that. Jess lives on in a doorway between this room
and the next.
Another local artist named Ashley Folk made the header on the case. She created a plaque that depicts the name “Jess Jacobs” in nails and string. Nails and String: a perfect metaphor. Our Jess endured such pain in her 29 years. When I think nails, I think of smashed thumbs. I think of the nail that went through my bare foot at 10 years of age while walking. I think of Jesus on the cross. I think of nails and it leads me directly to thoughts of shocking and surprising pain. I look at the name “Jess Jacobs” on this plaque and see so many nails. Each nail could represent a treatment, a hospitalization, or another day of pain.
Another local artist named Ashley Folk made the header on the case. She created a plaque that depicts the name “Jess Jacobs” in nails and string. Nails and String: a perfect metaphor. Our Jess endured such pain in her 29 years. When I think nails, I think of smashed thumbs. I think of the nail that went through my bare foot at 10 years of age while walking. I think of Jesus on the cross. I think of nails and it leads me directly to thoughts of shocking and surprising pain. I look at the name “Jess Jacobs” on this plaque and see so many nails. Each nail could represent a treatment, a hospitalization, or another day of pain.
But then again, there is the string. This string glued firmly, intertwined around
all those nails to create the name “Jess.”
For that is what Jess did. She
entwined us all. I met Jess on twitter
long before I met her in person. She was
one of the #HIT100 in 2013. She was a
powerful patient leader that represented so many in health information
technology without a voice.
This year during the #HIT100 voting in July, Ross Martin said
we should nominate Jess. When the list
came out Chuck Webster made 3-D printed key fobs for all of the 100 that wanted
one. When my fob arrived, I first let
it rest a few moments in #TheWalkingGallery of Lego. Jess helped make so many of those figures. Then I gave it to
Jess. I put a key ring on it and placed
it in the display case. It looked a
little bit lonely, so I put my husband Fred’s keys on the fob.
Under the keys and fob, there is a blue rose and a blue
button. The blue rose represents the thought
that Jess will always be with us. The
blue button means we always fight for patient access to data, just like
Jess.
I've been thinking about Jess for much of the day. Thank you, Reggie, for preserving her magic in such a magical place.
ReplyDeleteI am glad she can be here, surrounded by art, visited by children, and remembered with love.
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