The most disciplined decision I’ve made recently did not occur at 5 a.m. It wasn’t a juice cleanse or a digital detox. It wasn’t even resisting the urge to buy something I didn’t need with two-day shipping.
It was canceling Amazon Prime.
Tag Archive: Life Lessons
Nobody warned me that 66 was the year my body would take a good hard look at my life choices, print out a PowerPoint presentation, and schedule a mandatory all-hands meeting. No agenda. No RSVP. Just a pop-up calendar invite that said: ‘Your body requests your immediate and undivided attention.’
I didn’t RSVP. My right foot showed up anyway.
It started subtly. I went to pivot left — a perfectly normal human maneuver I’ve executed maybe a hundred thousand times — and my right foot looked at me like I’d asked it to speak Mandarin. It dragged. Across the floor. Like a disgruntled coworker who just found out they’re not getting a raise. My foot staged a small but unmistakable protest, and I went down.
I didn’t fall. I performed an unscheduled relationship check with the floor. It went poorly.
I had planned to tell people on my own terms. I had a whole timeline. There would be a right moment, a considered conversation, perhaps a tasteful announcement. I would control the narrative.
Instead, my bladder did it for me.
I have conclude God has a sense of humor.
Not a ha-ha humor. Not a sitcom laugh track humor. More like the kind of humor where He leans back, folds His arms, looks at the angels and says, “Watch this.”
I have trouble kneeling. Can’t walk very far and use a wheelchair. My fingers tremble like an addict overdosing on caffeine. My hands ache. Spine aches. Knees ache. Got cancer. Still have cancer. Have Parkinson’s. And my right foot, who went to sleep perfectly fine on January 16th, tendered its resignation on the 17th. “Dude, not working today. And by the way, not sure when I’m returning.” Trust me, this stuff was never on my childhood vision board.
Meanwhile, my persistently aloof brother jogs five miles every day.
Five. Fucking. Miles.
Every. Day.
No limp. No wheelchair. No mysterious clicking noises when standing. He casually hints winning the health lottery as though one might casually say, “Oh, I built an entire home at work today and grabbed a case of beer on the way home. What one?” I’m not saying I resent him—but if I were God, I would at least have given matching symptoms, if not in fairness, but for symmetry. I often think of what happened on the assembly line. You might presume the system would distribute aches and pains evenly. Heck, you might even believe there’d be a cosmic spreadsheet (with pivot table): “Okay, this guy gets bad knees, that one gets shaky fingers, and so on. Everyone gets something.” Nope.
For some? Sampler Platter.
I don’t think about overcoming cancer. I can’t. Multiple Myeloma is undefeatable. Most days, one can hardly recognize that I fight past overwhelming fatigue and nausea. I do it because I have no choice. I am just an average Information Technology worker trying to make it until 65 when federal healthcare benefits become available. I could work from home, but I chose to push myself. The question therein is, “Why?”
As of ten minutes ago, the death toll from the ongoing violence between Israel and Hamas has passed 1,800, with over 1,000 killed and 2,700 injured in Israel and at least 830 people killed and 4,250 wounded in Gaza, according to Palestinian and Israeli health services. Worldwide, people witnessed one inhumanity after another. Festival celebrants were gunned down while escaping. Hostages taken. Terrorists removed one family’s daughter and executed her. An unconscious woman at the festival was displayed by armed militants in Gaza as onlookers shouted “Allahu Akbar.”
Allahu Akbar (God is most great)? Really? If God is so great, where the fuck is He now? Would a god so excellent begat violence upon violence and hatred upon hatred? If God was so great, what was the tactical outcome? Or, as I would ask any terrorist before undertaking any mission (which I never have), “Then what?”
A friend knocked at my door and dropped off a bottle of seaweed pills. “It will fix metabolism and fight cancer.” Of course, I accepted the offer unconditionally. After some small talk, I shut the door and tossed them on the counter behind my toaster with the other worthless crap I received. I don’t take ‘magic’ supplements because they don’t work. And technically, it’s hard to do something when there’s a lack of faith. Supplements do not make you invincible.