Living Forever in the New Year

A while ago I got past the idea that with my cancer diagnosis I could not plan more than a month into the future.  Today, with my first regimen of chemo behind me, coupled with my monthly x-geva injections, I am feeling better than I have in a couple of years.  I am able to commit to early morning events because I now wake up by 6:00 AM as opposed to dragging myself out of bed at 8:00 AM.  Two months ago, riding my bike 2 miles was exhausting, but now 10 miles is not a problem.

I picked up a book recently called How To Live Forever: The Enduring Power of Connecting the Generations by Marc Freedman.  The book is not about the taking health supplements, or freezing your body in liquid nitrogen for a future thawing.  Rather, and in a similar way to the Parker Palmer’s On The Brink, Freedman deals with the relationship of older and younger generations to the benefit of both.

The relationship discussed in the book considers a subject in which I have considerable interest – mentoring.  I have written about this elsewhere.  Freedman got me thinking about this subject anew.  In the past year, I intentionally pulled back from professional responsibilities in academia including formal teaching.  However, I continue to have a keen interest in mentoring and the reciprocal benefits to all engaged in that process.  That is where the Freedman book hit me.

I considered several mentorship projects in the past year but was reluctant to begin the long-term process to bring them to fruition.  A good bit of my reluctance was not knowing my ability and longevity beyond the next chemo round.  I am comfortable making plans that extend into the spring, but was hesitant to think much beyond that, as I blogged about with my gardens.

But applying Freedman book process very much aligns with my experience in cancer recovery.  As good as chemo and x-geva might be, I know too that the attitude and actions in my mental and spiritual lives are as integral to my cancer treatment as the medicines.  My oncologist will not offer a prognosis today because I have consistently proven his past estimates wrong.

So, into the New Year I am taking the attitude that I will live forever and I am going to fully engage with some of my half-formed projects I have been hesitant to commit to fully.  I still understand that 30-days from now the cancerous tumors and bone lesions might be back in full force or that I could be hit by a car, struck by lightening or die from any number of incidents.  I have lived under the “being dead in 3-6 month” prognosis for past two years.  I am now ready to live forever!

A Christmas I Was Not Supposed to See

Our family at The Fly getting ready for the holiday.

In August of 2017, my gastro doctor told me that I likely had three to six months to live.  My oncologist suggested I get a back-up for the fall course I was teaching as I might not make it to the end of the semester.

So here I am 16 months later, feeling considerably better than I did back then.  I am riding my bike regularly, working in the yard, and going on a cruise in January in preparation for a longer stint of travel this spring.

My four rounds of chemotherapy in the fall were very successful.  My monthly x-geva injection has stabilized the bone deterioration of my metastasized cancer.  I have received excellent medical care from Touro Infirmary.  Now, my oncologist will not offer a prognosis for me as he notes that I have outlived all expectations to date.

But there is much more than the medical and physical to my being alive.  I have reasons to get up every day, one day at a time.  That understanding from my three decades of recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous has proven absolutely key.  I thought about this when working in the garden over the past couple of weeks.  We had good crops this year and we are looking to expand in 2019.  As I have cleared for new beds and hacked through some of our tropical backyard jungle, I initially thought if my future chemo proved less effective and I was not able to eat again, then the garden produce might not be of use.  But then I thought too that we have family and friends with whom we already share our crops, and if we could not eat the future crops, we would just share more.  I thought too that our gardens are a small step we can take to support our earth in this time of environmental devastation and our government’s inaction.  But mostly, I thought, today I am able to work in the garden – I cannot predict what tomorrow will bring any more than when told in the summer of 2017 I had 3 to 6 months to live.

And there is more than one-day-at-a-time to my continued health:

  • My wife and best friend Emma has stood by me through the good and bad, particularly in the last year.
  • My faith community at Rayne Memorial is a key to my spiritual path and my cancer treatment.  I have many friends and opportunities for service that feed me physically and spiritually.
  • My weekly meeting with the School for Contemplative Living has led to friendships and a spiritual path that have led me down roads that I would never find alone.
  • The book studies that began at Emma’s store on the Artists Way and now moved into other creative directions also provide a community and insights to grow with.

A couple of weeks ago, Emma and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary.  Tomorrow, we will celebrate a Christmas that I was not supposed to see.  Now it is not so much a matter of just being alive, but also to live a life of meaning.  Being able to do so is the best Christmas gift I could receive or give.

I am truly blessed and grateful.

Old & New Tools of Recovery

When I first got sober, I relied on a set of tools to guide me through the early days of recovery.  These tools included regular attendance at AA meetings, service work, daily readings, and going through the steps with my sponsor.  Over the years, I have added more recovery tools to my toolbox.  Other tools I have taken on include making gratitude lists, prayer and meditation, writing, book studies, retreats, expressing my gratitude to others, participating in my faith community.  The list goes on.  Some recovery programs have their own prescribed sets of tools.  For example the nine tools of Overeaters Anonymous include a plan of eating, sponsorship, meetings, telephone calls, writing, literature, an action plan, anonymity, and service.

Based on my experience, I have come to believe that if whatever tool I am using is not working today, then it is time to put it back in the toolbox and try another tool.  Until recently, I had a set of tools that I used to start each day for the past couple of years: journaling, writing a thank you note to someone, a gratitude list, and a reading.  When I began my first round of chemotherapy, that two-year old practice became too much of a rote routine.

I went back to my toolbox and pulled out some unused tools.  A friend had sent me a couple of books with short daily readings that allowed a new reflection on life and recovery.  I began posting my gratitude list to an AA Facebook page and participate in the life of that page.  I have taken on more in service in several aspects of my life.  I have a deeper involvement in my faith community.  These tools are working today.

I found this approach very effective in not just sobriety, but my total life today.  If I think over my three decades of sobriety, much has changed over the years including family, career, retirement, and more recently being diagnosed with a stage 4 cancer.  It makes complete sense to me that different tools fit different life circumstances.  The new tools always bring new understanding and growth toward true self.

I look forward to the new tools that will guide me in the future.

Our 19th Wedding Anniversary

Today I celebrate 19 years of being married to Emma.  Over those we had many adventures that have taken us literally across the world.  Over that period too we both changed our careers, lived into new possibilities, all with the mutual support of each other.  

The “sickness and health” aspect of our wedding vows seems to loom larger for both of us as we age.  My cancer in particular has caused stress and anxiety and a need to reevaluate our priorities.

But over the last two decades, whether good times or bad, and we certainly experienced both, I am grateful that I have never once doubted our commitment to each other as life partners.

I am grateful that as we both have retired from our careers, that we look to spend more time and energy doing those things we did during our first few years of married life – whether traveling, cooking, spending time with the children and grandchildren, or following and sharing our spiritual paths.

My years in sobriety and now my year plus with cancer brought me to a better appreciation of the blessings of the last 19 years with Emma.  To begin with, I know that were it not for sobriety, Emma and i would never have met. Without recovery, I would not have the maturity, insights, or direction to live as a couple through the challenges we faced over the years.

And of late, we both have come to see that our retirement years are taking a shift from our original plans.  For our first few years of retirement, we both continued as though still employed but just not getting the paycheck – Emma in her store, and me with teaching and work in Peru. My cancer has been the wake up call, dare I say a blessing, to let us know that we are not assured of one day more than the breath we are taking today on this earth.

To that end, we are (slowly) slowing down and spending more time in traveling back streets together, getting ready to hit the road in January for new adventures, planning our gardens, and returning more to the pace and existence that brought us together at the start.

We went to a Waffle House for breakfast on the day we got married.  Our logic was that in celebrating future anniversaries, there would always be a Waffle House wherever we were living and that we would be able to afford the meal.  We have not been terribly faithful to that plan over the years, but this morning, we will be off to get some waffles!