You May Disagree...

Jillian and I had a wonderful time last evening, attending a charity dinner for Breast Friends. These are the delightful women who, when a new breast cancer patient is diagnosed, leap into action with the new patient, offering support, suggestions, food and family assistance. The group has just begun a new outreach program into the local Women’s Prison, one can only imagine how lonely a prisoner might be with this scary new step in their lives.

It was not an easy evening for me. First, there is some sort of celebratory emphasis in the world of women’s cancer to have looked into the jaws of the lion more than once. “I have had three bouts in the past seventeen years,” or “she’s beat it back twice in the last ten years.” Having lost a friend in less than eleven months, it was difficult to argue with those who’ve survived…but not everyone does. I would have hoped, just a little, that they’d have celebrated those stories of women who fought good fights, had the right attitude, and just had crappy outcomes ending their lives. It certainly wasn’t Lori’s fault that she wasn’t able to attend the dinner….she did everything she could to follow the directions of her physicians—and still—took less than a year to succumb. It isn’t really about winning or losing, she didn’t “lose” the battle, the battle overcame her.

Deeper, though, and here’s where I may get massive disagreement, is the jolly reference during the evening to “chemo” as if it were a buddy. Not once, in four years, can I think of having used the phrase “chemo.” First, it dawned on me early that it was too much like “Kemo Sabe” from the Lone Ranger, and that somehow “Chemo” and “Tonto” were supposed to be buddies. Not one time, regardless of the difficulty or side effects, did I think of those poisons as buddies of mine.

MY buddies yelp at me when I hook drivers into the pasture. They call when I feel crappy, they laugh at my bad jokes. They want to know why I haven’t eaten lately when a dying quail of a five iron ends up fifteen yards short of its intended target. So “Kemo” is certainly not a buddy of mine.

More intently, though, I have never wanted to be on a first name basis with “her.” (I’m not sure why I’ve always thought of chemotherapy as female, like a ship, but that’s just been the impression from the beginning. Maybe because everyone who administered drugs in the Opium Den were women, but it certainly isn't a reflection on them.) The THERAPY is, and has been, my friend. So I use her full name. Not the poisons that come in the beginning, but the resolution and impact of the last. I try and explain this to chemotherapy patients, and they look at me like I spend far too much time with my own belly-button.

When one has been through sessions of chemotherapy, there are plenty of days when the navel is our closest friend. It stays, it doesn’t talk back, and it doesn’t disagree. You’re welcome to your own opinion…but if you don’t hear me calling out for those who’ve endured “chemo” as if it was the fun poisons that were their friends, now you’ll know. And please don't ask me what I talk to my elbows about, they are always around, too!!

Appreciation...

Today I was surprised at the large conference we're attending when a good friend and client from Oregon thanked me, mentioned that I'd be "out of action for awhile" and paid me some wonderful professional compliments in front of the entire crowd. I'm a very lucky boy. Good thing it was inappropriate for me to say more than "thank you," which would have made it look like I wasn't surprised, because my emotions have been fairly near the surface all week.

One of my business contacts in Idaho suffered a fatal coronary just days ago, we learned at this meeting, and I'd just seen him awhile ago...learning of his plans for retirement, time with family and his favorite fishing streams. No one really knows the date when your number gets drawn...is it better to plan ahead, hope for the future and put family through trials and tribulations, or is it better to have the family shock of an "immediate departure?"

Others, whom I barely know and certainly can't say that I know well, have been so kind...not only adding to the public comments from today's session, but privately sharing some of their recent personal challenges. So many have faced cancer issues, even though I know the numbers I remain surprised when I learn who...and what kind, and how recently someone may have been diagnosed. We are not alone, yet sometimes we feel like our family is the only one facing difficulty.

And appreciating one another, more than we do already, is a primary goal of my upcoming sabbatical. I really, really appreciate the help and gracious support...family, friends, barely acqaintances...it matters every single time someone asks, tells me how good I look, or wonders how the kids are doing. "How's Judy holding up?" "What do you have planned after May?"

We March On

If you're a first-time visitor, welcome to our little corner of the web. I'll do better to post some pictures, perhaps to introduce you the odd little cast of characters who generally are known only through nicknames and funny comments. Or their own names, without the connections of "that's Lizzy's friend from high school." Right now, though, I'm busily trying to wrap up a work world so that I can adjust to the world of full-time family, friends and fun. (I suppose there are some who might read this and wonder what may have changed, given that I try to make work as fun as I can, too.)
There will be more, with updates on a more regular basis...It will turn closer to a diary, when I'm not driving to the office every day. I've worried for quite some time that I might bore my readers if I did that, but for now I really enjoy sharing thoughts....and I won't have the neat folks at TDC to listen to my "water cooler" comments.

Welcome Aboard!!

An Amazing Feeling....

It has been a month, and when I last wrote something I blogged about not being very patient. If anyone still reads this collection of nonsensical sentences, I actually have an excuse. The diagnostics weren't that great, and I've decided that the best thing I can do for my health, my family, my love of Judy and peace of mind is to stop working. I simply couldn't post that here until I'd told people at work and developed a "departure plan" from running an important office to not having much say over what goes on there. Or any, for that matter.

So now, it is out in the open. I'll tie up loose ends through April, and begin a medical leave of at least six months on the first of May. Perhaps something marvelous will happen to the lesions in my liver in those six months, but for now they continue to slowly percolate...going nowhere else, thank goodness, but not going away, either. As much as I enjoy the work I do and the people with whom I'm blessed to work....both internally and as clients, they don't rank very high on the priority list that starts with three + one adult children, two Little Leaguers, my "pseudo family" of the Shira's, and Judy. To say nothing of the Chambers clan in Lompoc, the Fubarians, or anyone else in my wide support group.

The Amazing Feeling, though, came over me after describing my plan to the other managers at our office. For my entire lifetime, I've wondered "is this the best way to spend my time right now" or tried to answer other questions. Like "how do we serve that customer best?" "What are we missing that we could improve?" "How do we steal that client from the competition?" The questions never stopped, but they'd go away for a little while as I teed up a ball on the golf course....my one relief from the "you gotta do better" rat-race I've always felt.

When I left the managers' meeting, the questions stopped. They'll get my very best for the remaining three weeks, and if I get better they'll have a place for me. For now, however, I think I'll sleep really well tonight, and not worry about what we should do to fight off the competition, or whether I should be studying something that will set my skills apart.

One HUGE sigh of relief, it came as a complete surprise. I think I'll have an absolute blast over the next three weeks, knowing that most problems belong to someone else, and that I can offer input but not remedies. It will be difficult explaining my health to some dear friends and clients, but no one has said, "what a dumb idea, what are you thinking?" I look forward to chatting with them all, and filling in people on my plans. Oh, and do we all have PLANS!!