Monday afternoon, August 30, 2010


How many people can claim that an L.L. Bean’s shoulder bag saved their life?

I can.

To wit:

My dual bags of saline solution and high-dose chemo drips nearly finished, our star nurse Christine strides into the exam room with an armload of equipment. I knew I was in for it. We had been forewarned.

For the next few weeks, she announced, I would be tethered to bags of saline solution 24 hours a day. What’s more, the same would be true for anti-nausea medication as well. This nausea compound would be doled out by a battery-operated electronic device about the size of a large paperback book, with both meds fed through five feet of plastic tubing that would enter my chest through my already-mounted catheter or port.

This machine, which makes a sound every half-dozen seconds or so akin to that of a digital camera when snapped, permits me to supplement my automatic doses of anti-nausea medication with the touch of a button, at the same time carefully ensuring that I do not over-medicate. It’s powered by a nine-volt battery. At the first sign of an upset stomach, I can push-button my way to relief.

And what binds this rig together? Christine has fitted it all into a green canvas, dual compartment L.L. Bean valise, with handle and shoulder strap.

I’m not sure this is what old L.L. had in mind when he first opened shop in 1912.