So life goes on . . .
And I/we have changed.
My list of "important stuff" has been
seriously rearranged, for one thing.
Second, I find incredible joy in the hummingbirds, goldfinches, egrets, and herons on our lake.
I even take pleasure in the ravenous ducks and geese who threaten to eat all of the corn that we can supply. There is even a squirrel so sneaky that he rivals the best raccoons.
I find that I occasionally receive compliments such as "You're looking really healthy," or "Gee, you sure have a great tan." Well, I spend a lot of time sitting on the deck at lunchtime, and the 5-fluorouracil makes my skin much more sensitive to the sun. I think, "Well, it's the chemotherapy that gives me the suntan," but I don't say anything. And to me, the phrase "you're looking really healthy" is uncomfortably close to "My, doesn't he look natural?"
Illness and death; is there a need to deny them built into us all? I know that I have thought about mortality more during the past 3 years than during the past 50.
And this is as close as I would like to come for a while.
There have been other changes that aren't so welcome; I occasionally deal with "SVT" or supraventricular tachycardia. Try to say that fast. Big words that say my heart sometimes beats too fast and I feel weak. Stress-related. Imagine that. So I do simple meditation/relaxation excercises to control it; they seem to work better. The medicine prescribed just made me sleepy all the time, which is not a real "career-enhancer." And after 3 years of enforced inactivity recovering from surgeries, the low level of testosterone in my body, which keeps the prostate cancer in check at the moment, requires me to work much harder to recover my strength and stamina. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Sometimes, I tend to lose my patience, but then I consider the alternative. I am very glad to be alive. And I am ever so much more alive.
"Big things" have become smaller; "small things" have become much bigger and much more fun.
Jesse. My best buddy.
Family has always been important to me, but now I understand that immortality isn't an option, well . . .
My youngest son and daughter-in law moved to a home about 15 minutes away, instead of 4 hours away, about a year ago. Their move was planned for many reasons, but I have been most grateful to them for their companionship and help--especially during those times when we just couldn't do it alone.
I have learned to be with my wife. The changes in emphasis and direction in our marriage have enabled me to experience a level of trust and intimacy that I never imagined existed.
I am a very lucky guy.
And I don't intend to stop writing and sharing my life experiences as a survivor. I look forward to our future.