remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act
I started writing this update last week and then the siege on the citadel of democracy happened while we were there and I took some time to reflect. I feel it to be even more important to finish this not only to update everyone as I start round 4 but also as a reminder that many good things are in store for us all in 2021.
From a mountain top to a hospital bed. That’s a line I wrote in my first blog about my cancer diagnosis. For some reason it resonates more acutely now with the beginning of the new year. One week I was up on Mount Rainer and the next I was in stale hospital gowns consumed with the tumor in my chest that was trying to kill me. I imagine, in a way, much of 2020 felt like that for all of us.
The past few weeks leading to the end of 2020 and the start of a New Year, I've read several articles on how 2020 broke us and why we should be broken.
As I think about the year, maybe the pundits were right, I should be broken. You should be broken.
My 2019 ended with heart wrenching funerals and a family cancer diagnosis. Early 2020 punched it in the gut with the pandemic, upending our mere existence. Then I got handed a cancer diagnosis in a global pandemic as if battling cancer wasn't a challenge to begin with already. I spent the first day of 2021 in a hospital bed for my last day of round 3 of chemotherapy where Laura wasn't even allowed to be there and coupled it with the reception of more terrible news. The normal things that help with such crises that we took for granted — visits from family and friends, good food, holiday gatherings, and hugs — fractured and in short supply.
Round 3 of chemotherapy also brought that sinking, broken feeling. The thought of it was underwhelming. The anticipation of knowing you're tired before you even start and are just waiting for it to be over was what I felt at times. My mind was well aware of the impending side effects and experience. And I was coming off the heels of debilitating bone pain after an immune-boosting shot I received after round 2. My chemotherapy days were early, starting at 7am. The toxicity of the drugs and the side effects were more ramped up and longer lasting — it had been over a week since my infusion and my taste buds were still not even remotely back to normal, never mind the other sides. My body was ravaged — veins destroyed, clots formed, muscles atrophied, ears pained, and system fried. It wasn't the final round and the thrill of being halfway done was gone. It was just at the point in the game where your body aches, your mind wanders, your muscles are sore, and you're asking yourself how much longer. Starting round 3 and getting through it was a mental and physical fight in itself.
But, I did it, and I'm now headed into the 4th quarter to play for my life.
It's strange...during my chemotherapy week I kept having this nightmare where I’m swimming toward the shore from this consuming wave. I'm swimming as hard as I can but the shore continues to recede and I can't seem to get any closer. I keep going. I feel panic setting in; I'm breathing harder, I can feel my heart racing as my shoulders ache with a burning sensation. As the panic rises and I swim even harder it feels like I'm not going to make it in time. Then, at point break, right as the wave is about to smash into me, the edge just falls off and then darkness. Then, I’m just floating. It's like in the Avenger's End Game when Hawkeye wakes up to find the Soul Stone in his hand. He's just there floating — panicked, confused, disbelief, and relief, all wrapped in one.
After several nights of this, I realized during meditation that maybe instead of swimming hard to get to the edge I’m just supposed to stop and float.
Witness the experience as it is and not as I want it to be and then allow it to pass.
That focus of attention and change in perception made me realize that I'll never get 2020 back and that this period of treatment continues to be transitory. I'll never have this experience again. Similar, perhaps, but never the same.
Our life is ephemeral — moments slowly slipping away from our hands and minds. Our past becomes blurry with each new day as we internally absorb the mere fact that each day there might be something we will have done for the very last time in our life. Take a moment with me to think about that. From picking up our children, to walking across the stage, to climbing a mountain. From camping and walking on a sandy beach. Or remembering the face of a long-gone loved one. Or even more simply taking that walk around the block. There is a finite number of times you'll do each of these things. The clock simply ticks and tocks. Each passing second brings with it the anxiety of the next second while simultaneously reminding us of this one wild and precious life we have been given to live.
Each experience should lend itself to a poignancy to everything. There will be a last time. Most of it we spend trying to get to the end of everything only to realize that is all there is at the end. Each time we do something, pleasant or unpleasant, that is one last time we will ever do it. We rarely know when the final time will come. And we always remain completely unprepared for it.
Everything is precious then. Your life is precious. Paying more attention to our life is our actual true source of wealth. We can waste time but attention is different. And what we pay attention to matters.
As I sit here, reflecting on round 3, on 2020, and thinking about the year ahead — about my future, career, goals, health, family and friends — I can't accept the fact that 2020 broke me because it did not. Toxic positivity aside, it simply did not.
To accept it would be to accept defeat of the essence of my existence. And the retaliation my mind has is my ever repeating affirmation:
My spirit is unconquerable because I am the conqueror.
This all felt deeply meaningful to me and as you embark on a new year, I felt it might be for you as well. I'll leave you with something that's given me solace for 2020 and hope for the rest.
Most nights before bed, I've been reading "Oh, the places you'll go!" by Dr. Seuss. Aside from the many lessons that have been titillated into such a small and powerful book, it underscores our resilience in 2020 and it brings me comfort, peace, and hope for 2021. For the end of 2020 and the beginning of the new year, I felt these lines to be all the more salient for our resolutions and for the year ahead.
I'm sorry to say so but, sadly, it's true that Bang-Ups and Hang-Ups can happen to you.
You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You'll be left in a Lurch.
You'll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you'll be in a Slump.
And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.
I'm afraid that some times you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you.
All Alone! Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you'll be quite a lot.
And when you're alone, there's a very good chance you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.
But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.
You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.) Kid, you'll move mountains.
So...be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea, you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!
From a mountain top to a hospital bed is done. And back to a mountain top, I'll go in 2021!
Cheers to the start of round 4, our new year, and to living our boldest one yet!
With love and gratitude,
A
P.S. We had an incredible and honest conversation with Paul and & Katelyn Johnson on The Atypical Podcast. Paul is a pharmacist and testicular cancer survivor and Katelyn is a badass nurse. They share their story with us and the journey to beating cancer; it's truly inspiring. Listen to it on Spotify or at this link.
