There’s a moment in everyone’s life when the morning alarm sounds, and you smack the ‘snooze button.’ “Oh God,” we whisper, “Just five minutes more.” That very moment begins another day of weirdness. For instance, I chose to drive to work yesterday. And there’s that weird moment when a white Toyota confused me. At that moment, I lost orientation. Where am I? What am I doing? Where am I going? Why am I here at this spot? What the hell is a white Toyota out here? I couldn’t place my finger on it. Ten minutes later, my brain operated flawlessly. It was weird.
Category: Life Lessons
Question: When diagnosed with severe illness, do you fight like hell or walk away (from life)? When faced with the ultimate choice, there may be offers of comfortable, safe, warm places to stay. However, in the end, will you choose the solitude and movement of life or pour a host of chemicals through your body’s veins in hopes of living three, six, or nine months more? There will be a myriad of kindnesses and struggles, each bringing people together and, on occasion, sometimes challenging their commitment to the vision set for themselves.
To be more visionary, stringing the body to repeated rounds of chemotherapy offers non-joyful, conflicted rounds of clinical togetherness through an endless maze of medical tests. Moments such as these highlight that aging in America makes people invisible. Even in crowded waiting rooms, in the thunderous booms of clanging bedpans, like a salmon swimming upstream against the tide of infirmity, one wanders the solitary existence of medical marvel. Even in such moments, it’s hard for the ship to remain moored, but it’s never wholly undone.
Bone ache has increased its presence since the last blog post in early February. It makes one weary, and the angel of death suddenly feels more present than ever. It’s not that I am on death’s door. At least not yet. But it’s gnawing its way closer. (At least, that’s how I feel.)
My energy is decreasing. By 7 PM, the bed looks wonderfully beautiful and seduces me with potential dreams of another world. I want to eat, but I cannot. And I hunger for sustenance, but eating makes me nauseous. “Forty-one pounds,” I muttered to myself. “Wow. Forty-one pounds lost since mid-October 2022.”
When people receive a cancer diagnosis, they are stunned. I wasn’t. The clinician was direct and matter-of-fact. “We suspect cancer.” The calmness was amazing. Not my calmness. His. Thinking back on the exchange, I wish the clinician had hyped it a little more, like that old Dell commercial. “Dude. You’re getting a Dell.” Fist bump and smack, smack. Instead, just the standard textbook delivery that they suspect cancer, followed by a wave of the hand as if to say, “Now get the hell out of here. I am late for lunch.”
“We don’t know” comes in many forms. For example, the car mechanic quizzed about a part failure often states they don’t know why it failed. The heater-air conditioner technician told me two weeks ago that he did not know why the blower motor was leaking oil. “It’s old.” Children who spray-painted the car are asked why often retort with “I don’t know.” Then there are medical doctors.
“Doctor, I was cutting vegetables. My right wrist, elbow, and shoulder hurt painfully with each cut. So much so that I had to stop.” The doctor looked at his computer, “That’s a great question.” The comment ‘that’s a great question’ is like, “We don’t know.” Of course, the pain could be tendinitis, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, or “You sleepwalk and play drums all night.” A lot of times, doctors don’t know.
The company’s Human Resources issued an email titled “Yearly Goals.” Unfortunately, the email has been in my inbox, unread, for the last six days. I decided I was no longer interested in goals. Technically speaking, I do not want any further treatment, no radiation, no dexamethasone. I want nothing. I wish I were ready to go, but my body seems to say, “Nope. Not yet.”
According to news reports, Buffalo Bills safety Damar Hamlin, remains in critical condition (Tuesday). I hadn’t watched much professional football this year, but yesterday night, I sat in my chair, surfed to ESPN, and started watching the game at approximately the 7:01 mark of the first quarter. I was reading some prework material and missed the play that downed Hamlin. Looking up, I rewound the game to see what had occurred.
Upon viewing the play, the former medic inside knew what had happened. “Cardiac event,” I horridly whispered. Outside of watching professional soccer players experiencing cardiac events in old YouTube reruns, I have seen this type of incident only twice. And, I vivdly remember both.
I thought of an October 2021 blog post the other day. I thought of the word ‘control’ when my Neurologist informed me I was likely in Parkinson’s Stage 2. Although I don’t feel significantly different from 2021, tremors, rigidity, and other movement symptoms are present. I remain independent, but some daily tasks have become more complicated. And that’s where I’m at: Life continues to be more complex, challenging, and painful. So, although I am still living [I expected otherwise], a friend suggested I make some New Year’s resolutions.
New Year’s resolutions have a long history dating back to ancient civilizations. The concept of making a resolution at the beginning of the year to do something better or to change a habit has been around for thousands of years. Unfortunately, I’ve never been into New Year’s Resolutions. I break most of them. So, I started a list to accommodate my friend’s best intentions for 2023. Here are the first five.
A Spanish commercial for J&B Whiskey celebrating love and affirmation went viral for its heartwarming message. The commercial centers upon a grandfather quietly learning to apply makeup and finally assisting his grandchild in transforming on Christmas Day. The ad is heralded for its inclusivity and its final moments highlight the heart of Christainity: The magic of Christmas is about a God of acceptance and love. And that love is not only in Christmas but in all of us.