Blog. Sounds like something the Swedish Chef from the Muppets would say. And by it's nature is almost as difficult to make out. One word, but an infinite number possible fulfillments. Should I blog about my house? My job? My zit? Someone elses zit?
God? Yes, yes. I'm sure you figured that's where I'm going. "We all know you are a pastor now, so clearly you are going to spout on endlessly about God.
Probably. But not this time.
Oddly, not even for my first official myspace blog. But I'm sure I'll get there eventually. It is what I do, after all.
As with all things in my life, I feel God does weigh in, in some way. But tonight I'm going to blog about me.
"Well, isn't someone all full of themself?" I hear you say.
Touche'.
But it's not that kind of self rambling. I've been trying to come to terms with something over the last 4.5 months. Some of you, but not all, know that I've had cancer. Twice. Once over four years ago, and again this year. Four years ago I went through surgery and radiation. This year I did chemotherapy.
Cancer immediately brings to mind visions of death. And that's one of the top issues you deal with when your doctor tells you that you have cancer. But this isn't about that. I dealt with that four years ago. The prospect of immanent death doesn't bother me. It's not because I'm brave. I'm a coward. It's because I'm a realist. I know where I stand. And I understand the reality of my reality. (this is the part where I tell you all kinds of things about God, and how I dealt with death, and blah blah blah. That's for another blog.)
Chemotherapy causes incredible physical discomfort. It was easily the most horrible experience of my life. And it lasted for four months. Five days a week, every fourth week. My doctor said it like this. "You are young and we are playing hardball here. It's going to suck."
He wasn't wrong.
But this isn't about that either. (however, you do notice how I'm trying to draw you in and gain your sympathy... is it working?)
Before chemo, I was witty(a lie), handsome(another lie), funny and charming(also both lies). Well, at the very least, laughing came easy, I socialized easily, and I was decent at keeping a conversation going.
But now, I'm different. The wit is gone. Being charming and funny and clever... it's become hard work. I used to be goofy. Now it takes effort to be who I was.
All because, for some reason, I no longer am. And even when I try, I don't always succeed.
One could argue, "Well, you've gone through a traumatic experience and that changes people."
Perhaps.
However, it hasn't changed my outlook on anything. I had already dealt with all the issues that come with near death and trauma. No, this is something else. Chemo is basically poison injected directly into your veins. So, I have no doubt that I lost more than a few brain cells. I know it has effected my short term memory in a significant way.
But it's also changed who I am on a fundamental, psychological level. My wife has noticed. However, she was kind enough to not say anything. But I noticed also. I find myself doing things that I have always done, interacting as I've always tried to, but now, it's as if I'm just watching it happen from the inside. I have to force the smile more. Witty comment doesn't flow right. It's as if I'm an actor playing me.
Then suddenly, and unexpectedly, I'm normal for a while. It comes in short bursts. In certain situations, it comes back, and I'm me again. But it never lasts.
If I were counciling someone like this, I would probably conclude it was situation depression of some sort. The only problem is, I'm happy. My life is no more stressful than normal. My wife is great. My home is great. I still love my work. I'm probably closer to God than I've ever been.
And yet somehow, I'm often much more apathetic than I would normally be. And knowing it's true does nothing to change it. I don't feel bad. I just feel different. It's palpable. The emotion is there, but somewhere between the inside and outside it dissapates.
I'm happy about my level of health right now. I love my life. But now I'm a different person.
Me. But not me.
And I haven't decided if I like the new me yet. The new me isn't as fun. He's harder to use. Unwieldy. Clumsy. He didn't come with an instruction manual.
Most people don't notice. The witty flows if I force it out. The funny is there when it needs to be, but it's no longer natural.
I find myself living for the moments when I feel normal as I used to be. In those periods of time, it's easy again. I don't have to work hard for everything. Socializing, smiling...
Thinking.
Ha. Now this is strange. I was just realizing how depressing this all sounds. And it made me laugh. That's probably not normal. But I suppose that is just me. All throughout my treatments, I kept having odd situations present themselves that even my oncologists considered unlikely and rare. And now that I'm done with the chemo and cancer, I'm still having things pop up. Apparently I have a genetic abnormality that puts me at risk for Hemochromatisis. A condition that causes the body to absorb more Iron from food than it should. He checked for it cause my iron is high. My doctor recognized the strange nature of being me when he said, "well, it could be Hemochromatosis, or it could be residual side effects from chemo. You have the gene for Hemochromatosis, but you have the gene that is least likely to cause it. But then again, you're wierd."
I really like my doctor. He doesn't sugar coat stuff. He's a realist, like me. We get along great. He asked me to perform his sons wedding. It was pretty darn cool.
But I digress.
My parents were here this weekend. And it was all I could do to be conversational. It was hard all weekend. I just couldn't get it to click. And it showed. My wife just thought I was in a bad mood. But I wasn't. I was happy. I was glad they were there. I hadn't seen them since May. But it was hard. I just couldn't get into the groove.
They left today, and it was during this time that I realized that I was no longer sure who I was anymore. I don't mean as a Christian and my service to God. I don't ever question that anymore. Perhaps the nature of the service, sure. But I did that anyway.
But I mean, me. My personality. What makes me, me. The old Tony doesn't really exist anymore. And the new Tony... I don't know about him yet.
Why do I share this with all of you who may read this? Maybe in part because it's cathartic. It's good to get things off ones chest from time to time. It's the down side of my life now that it's not always appropriate for me to share whatever is on my mind. Although you wouldn't know it to listen to me. I usually talk first and think later.
But I'm also sharing this for another reason. This is where I bring up that God guy again. People have this idea that pastors are just perpetually blissful and oblivious to reality. They don't understand what the suffering of normal people is all about. Pastors are either about perpetual hope or they pound fire and brimstone. Either way they are detached from reality.
Some(many?) are.
They think they have answers for everything. They think they have it all figured out, and because they work for God, they are either better than everyone or more privilaged than everyone else.
That's so much crap.
I can't even figure out my own experience completely, I won't even insult anyone else by thinking I know what theirs has been like.
I keep running into people who are trying to figure out their life just like i'm trying to figure out mine.(That'd be everyone...) Some keep telling themselves the same biblical answers, hoping that they will start to believe it. Others don't even have answer to try to believe.
I was sitting in a meeting with a group of pastors. And don't get me wrong, I work with some really good people. But there was some talk about people just like you and me. People trying to figure out what happened to their life. And one of them commented on how that was such a great opportunity for us to share some of our beloved doctrine and truth.
And I thought to myself, "Are you freaking kidding me?" Some poor guy is trying to figure why his life took the turn it did, and I'm suppose to run over tell him about how great the sabbath is? Or the lady who is standing in front of her fathers coffin, and I'm suppose to tell her what I think the bible teaches about dead people?
It was the most ridiculous thing I had heard in at least... well... propabably at least a day. You'd be surprised at the things people say to me. But the point is this. I'm trying to figure out me. But, it's my job to help people who are messed up just like me. How can I know about me, and try to give them something that isn't even relevant for them? How can I presume to think that what matters to me, matters to them?
I'm going to try to put out a blog from time to time. And I shared all of this with you, all of the gloom and messiness of my life, so you can know that I know better. Not that I am better. Just that I won't insult you. Everyone wants something in their life that means something. Something relevant. And I want my blog to be useful in some way. I want to share things that are relevant. Share things that have meaning.
To me. To you.
If anyone actually reads this, well, I really am as crazy as I sound. Next time, it will be funnier. Wittier. I don't want to depress people. But it will always be honest and straight to the point. And if you want or need to hear about something, let me know. I'll answer questions. Or I'll listen. Whichever. Maybe we can be useful to each other.
Till then.
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