"Yesterday is gone, tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today; let us begin." (Mother Teresa)
I have waited for this day for a year. I never doubted that it would come, but I've always known that it would be a special day for me. Each of our lives are punctuated by events and experiences that we know are significant and memorable. Sometimes they are joyful; sometimes painful. But no matter their nature, we remember them because of the impressions they make upon us. And if we're lucky, they change us for the better.
As I sit here reflecting, something else came to me. These moments are not the "usual landmarks" that we typically think of: the "grand days" (birthdays, weddings, honors received, adventures had, etc.)...nor the "sad days" (deaths, losses, betrayals, disappointments, etc.). Instead they are quieter moments whose impacts echo through us far past their occurrence. Such is the case today.
Today is the one year anniversary of my surgery for prostate cancer. One year ago, I began my journey from cancer patient to cancer survivor. I had written a year ago about the 1st steps of that journey and I've been eager to write again about what I've learned and experienced over the last 365 days, and perhaps how I've been changed. Most importantly, I knew I simply wanted to express deep gratitude. There is much that I am thankful for.
"God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well." (Voltaire)
One year later, I am as healthy and strong as can be. Four checkups with my indefatigable urologist, Dr. Kadi Bryan, have found me still cancer-free. And like many who've gone through similar physical trials, I've come out with a renewed desire to live a healthier and fitter life. During the year I made several changes to improve myself physically: I quit drinking alcohol, altered my diet and eating times, and got more active again (Yoga classes, working out at the Club, more walks with Deborah, and lots of golf!). And the rewards are obvious: Lost 15 pounds. Blood pressure excellent. Strength and stamina improved. Not bad for a senior citizen.
But the most important changes have been of a subtler nature and it's taken me awhile to recognize them. But I know I have felt them plant themselves inside of me and germinate over time. What are these "seeds"?
First and foremost, as I noted above, there has been a deep, deep sense of gratitude in me. For Life. For my life. I wake up every morning and the 1st thing I whisper to myself each day is "Good morning, Lord. Thank you for my life.". It stuns me sometimes now how I could have gone so long breathing and moving and doing what I've done on this planet for 65 years - and never really acknowledged the MIRACLE of life that I've been given. The old adage is true: One rarely appreciates what they have, until it's gone. But just like Ebenezer Scrooge after the visits of the Christmas Ghosts, my eyes have been opened and my heart changed.
"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." (Galileo)
At my last checkup with Dr. Bryan, I asked her how long we might be doing these. She smiled and said "You and I are going to be seeing each other for quite awhile". And in that moment, I learned what all cancer survivors do: Cancer will always be a part of my life. It doesn't just "go away". There is always a chance for it to return and other challenges to be faced. So that means that doctors' appointments, lab tests, sitting in medical waiting rooms, etc. - which used to be "once a year affairs" - are now a much bigger part of my "social calendar". But I haven't found that to be depressing or sad. What will be, will be.
Being a cancer survivor also granted me "membership" into a club populated by friends and acquaintances that I never knew belonged. For example, this past spring I learned that one of the first players I ever coached - some 40 years ago - was battling cancer. As an 8th grader, Scott Kellar was my star and a joy to coach. He went on to become a legendary boys' basketball coach in Oregon for the last 26 years. It was a special privilege to learn of his ongoing battle with cancer and to reconnect with him this year. And I'm a lifelong member of "Kellar's Krew", a support group formed by an ex-player of his. He, and all like him, inspire me to face whatever I must as life goes on,
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| Sporting my "Kellas's Krew" t-shirt |
I have a different view of my life than I did a year ago. There is a much shortened time frame that I tend to view things through. This is inevitable, I think, when one gets an unmistakable glimpse into the fact of their own mortality. Sooner or late, the notice that "the warranty is running out' is delivered to us all. But that message can be received with gratitude and grace, instead of fear or resentment. As a result, as I noted in my last blog, "We'll see" has become a mantra and guiding thought for me. Acceptance of "what is" is true alchemy. I have a greater degree of patience with many things.
Yet, at the same time, I have less willingness to waste time or take things or relationships for granted. Individual moments - especially the small ones - are more precious to me than before. I've read some cancer survivors talking about how this means they want to do so much more and to not miss a chance to live life to the fullest. But for me, I've found I'm less interested in another "adventure" or "doing one more thing". I've travelled to places around the world; I've seen sights and "done things".
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| Deborah snuck this pic of me thinking deep thoughts on the patio |
Now I am happiest when I'm outdoors, enjoying the beauty of southern Oregon, no matter the season. Taking pictures of the glorious fall leaves on the golf course. Walking in the woods with Deborah. And when it's too wet to be outside, I can sit here peacefully watching the gray rain dripping and pooling on the ground outside. Reading has become a lost pastime newly appreciated. Remembering our rambunctious grandkids far away brings a smile. Hearing Deborah laugh lights a glow in my heart. Sitting quietly, like now, and just reflecting. And so much more than can be listed or described.
"Not how long, but how well you have lived is the main thing.” — Seneca
So a year later, I am still learning and working at how to "live well". In the end, I can't think of a more useful task to pursue or greater gift to be given. And for that I say, in the immortal words of a true spirit of the season:
"And God bless us, everyone!" (Tiny Tim Cratchit, "A Christmas Carol")
Happy holidays to all!
