On The Brink of Everything

I distinctly remember two years before I retired, my wife Emma said to me, “What are you going to do when you don’t have all those work emails to respond to all day?”  For about five minutes, I was terrorized by the truth of her statement.  But then, I actively began thinking about and planning my post-retirment life.  Today, exactly two years into my retirement, the title of Parker Palmer’s new book On The Brink of Everything precisely describes how I view my life today.

But life has not really gone according to my retirement plan.  As my retirement fling, I intended to spend 12 weeks in Peru during the summer (Peruvian winter) of 2017.  A serious bike wreck that spring cut my trip in half – and I was in considerable pain most of the time I was into Peru.  Into 2017 I had several field and teaching projects lined up that were abandoned with my cancer diagnosis, followed by a heart attack.  I spent less time at my wife’s store working/crafting and more time at Touro Infirmary in treatment.

But today, I am able to bring my experience, strength, and hope to my evolving life – and recognize, I am truly on the brink of everything.  Here is an example: I am a strong believer in the Abrahamic tradition of welcoming the stranger and radical hospitality.  I am disappointed that my fatigue precludes me from many activities around refugee support in Louisiana today.  I anticipate joining with the local Grannies Respond group in the near future and meet refugees traveling through New Orleans at the Greyhound Station.  However, today, from the comfort of my home, I am able to help coördinate a social media and fundraising campaign to support the work – something in which I have skills and there is a desperate need.

Similarly, I suspect that my work in the field with climate extremes are over whether in Peru or the U.S.  But I am skilled and enjoy developing the digital presence and overall coordination for cultural heritage work of Culture and Community in Casma, Peru, an organization I helped launch two years ago.

My gardens have certainly thrived this summer and Emma and I are particularly excited about travel plans with our new directions.  Not to mention the books to read, meals to cook, and so much more.

Truly, the possibility in life today is on the brink of everything.  It does not matter whether I live for another six weeks, six months, or six years, the brink is still there.

I am blessed and grateful for these opportunities on the journey toward true self.

Quick Medical Update

At Touro with my trusty iPad, waiting for the procedure.

For friends and family, here is a medical update from this week.  I had a CAT scan on Wednesday with the intent of seeing how much my cancer had spread since the February scan.  The results would form the basis for considering next treatment steps.

For the past couple of weeks I felt particularly dizzy and short of breath when first standing up from a seated position.  Yesterday I had a particular bad experience with stomach issues.  While I was reasonably content to wait until my next scheduled oncology appointment on August 23rd, Emma sensed things were not going well and called his office today.

In a brief conversation and follow-up call we learned the CAT scan showed very limited cancer growth over the past six months – good news – but, I had fluid in my lungs that caused the problems noted above – also good news in terms of finding the problem.  A host of possible reasons from my heart attack, current meds, and cancer could be the reason for the fluid.

So by 2:00 pm we headed down to Touro to have the fluid drained – a remarkably simple procedure.  By 4:00 pm, we were back home, thanks to the skilled and efficient team at Touro Infirmary.

This evening my shortness of breath and dizziness is completely resolved, and I have less stomach pressure and bloating.

All in all, a very good report.

Life is good.  I am blessed.

Grateful for 34 Years of Sobriety

Thirty-four years ago today I walked into the Care Unit Detox Center in Cincinnati, Ohio to begin a 30-day inpatient alcohol/drug treatment program.  I have remained sober since that day.  In Alcoholics Anonymous, anniversaries are celebrated as a milestone.  Over the years, the significance of these events has hit me differently.  Just a few years ago, when living much more on autopilot, I completely forgot the anniversary until a few days after the fact.  Today, the date looms much larger in my mind.

I have posted many times how my years of recovery from alcoholism proved a perfect preparation for living with cancer over the past year when the speculation about my cancer probabilities turned into a firm diagnosis.  I recollect well-being told I had 3-6 months to live and wondering how to handle that.

The one-day-at-a-time lesson of AA kicked in fully last August as I sat in Audubon Park thinking of what I would miss most.  I thought about the time spent with my wife Emma, our rescue dog Grace, riding my bike, gardening, sitting in the Park reading, and so forth.  While sitting on that park bench It hit me – I best get busy with those things now while I am able.

Fast forward one year to today – although imperfectly, I have not wasted away the last year in dwelling in the problem.  I spent a good bit more time at Touro Infirmary than I planned, but I also had many fantastic experiences in that process.

Emma and I set priorities that are going in the right direction to enhance whatever time we have together on this earth.

My path toward what Thomas Merton refers to as “true self” has produced many wonderful and unexpected vistas thanks to my church home at Rayne Memorial United Methodist and the School for Contemplative Living.

I knocked off some “bucket list” visits like the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, Dr. Bob’s Home in Akron, and a handful of other places.  I have continued my “institutionally retired” professional career with many rewarding experiences.

I truly tried to live into the solution and not dwell in the problem of my disease.  I attribute this perspective as the primary reason in my surpassing all of my doctors’ expectations.  Physically, mentally, and spiritually, I feel better than I did one year ago – even two years ago for that matter.

As true for everyone, I don’t know if I will be alive on August 4th of 2019 to celebrate my 35th Anniversary in sobriety.  I firmly believe that were in not for the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, the starting point for my personal resurrection, I would not have received the gift of sobriety.  I am truly grateful to Alcoholics Anonymous and the 12 Steps of Recovery for the last 34 years of sobriety and each day yet to come on the road to happy destiny.