31,536,000 seconds. 525,600 minutes. 8760 hours. 365 days. 12 months.
These numbers all have one thing in common. They all equal the same thing.
1 year.
One year ago today, two days before Thanksgiving, my doctor called me with the results of my regular follow-up exams and told me that I had cancer. Again.
Two days before Thanksgiving.
We were already packing up to head out for the big family get together. We had been looking forward to getting away, and suddenly we weren't feeling to much like going. We had lost the desire to be a part of it, and we didn't want to ruin it for everyone else.
But we decided to go anyway. We decided not to say anything till after we got back from Thanksgiving. We would go. We would force a smile when it was time to smile, laugh when it seemed everyone else was laughing, and eat the food even though it we really weren't all that interested in eating. We didn't want bring everyone down so we just put on our best show and went through the motions. We just acted normal.
"Hey Tony, you've been staring at that cookie for 5 minutes and it's starting to creep me out. You ok?"
"What?!? Who said I was dying?!?... I mean, I like cookies. No cancer here."
Gag.
Ya, it went well.
Now, go ahead and ask me if I was feeling overly thankful. The answer is decidedly "no."
Fast forward to yesterday.
We are sitting in the doctor's office waiting for the results of my latest post-chemo tests. I started thinking back over this last year. Trying to smile through Thanksgiving. Going through all the tests with all the tubes and needles poked and inserted into various and unpleasant places. The surgery to put in my access port for chemo. The anticipation of the hell that was to come. Praying to God the day before chemo that I would wake up from the nightmare to find that it just a big dream or mistake. Going in the next for my first treatment and realizing it wasn't a dream and it wasn't a mistake. The next four months nausia, vomiting, head aches, weakness, chills, loss of hair, anemia, blood infusions, pain, erratic emotions and the realization that it was all much worse than anything I had anticipated. The unpleasant surgery to remove my access port. The recovery. And now I was there waiting to find out if history was going to go in circles for me.
Fortunately, it wasn't to be. My CT scans were as they should be and my blood tests were frighteningly close to normal. My doctor said, "It seems like you might have to suffer through till old age kills you after all."
Fair enough.
Now, it's two days before Thanksgiving again and I'm ready to go. I can smile and laugh and eat some great food... and I won't have to pretend too much.
Now, ask me if I am feeling overly thankful. The answer is "hell ya."
Now ask me why.
Is it because I have no cancer currently? Is it because I don't have 4 more months of chemo-torture looming ahead? Is it because in two days I'll get to put up with some of my crazier family? (maybe, maybe, and probably not)
Maybe it's because not have to die soon.
Maybe.
Do you know what a "shell game" is? I'm sure you all do. It is a game where a person hides a small object like small ball, or pebble, or pea under one of three cups, and then shuffles them around in order to confuse a player, then get them to place a bet as to which cup it is under. It was originally played with thimbles and a pea, then later walnut shells(hence the name "shell game") and a pea.
They show you the pea, put it under a cup, shuffle it around trying to confuse you, then stop and ask you to bet and choose a cup. They tell you that you have a one and three chance in choosing the correct cup. They are very good at shuffling the cups quickly so that they can mess you up. They usually let you choose correctly once or twice to suck you in. Then they make it hard for you, until you start losing.
It seems easy enough, though. If you just pay close enough attention, you should be able to follow the pea or ball because there are only three places the ball can be. Cup 1, 2 or 3.
And there in lies the illusion. The con man gets you to buy into to the parameters of the game as if they are actually true. The player knows that the con man is being tricky with the cups. They expect it. They expect the con man to switch up the cups or shift the ball from one cup to the next. But what the player doesn't realize is that it is an illusion with in an illusion.
The ball isn't under any of the cups. The player is given a false set of choices and then made to believe that they are the real ones. They are convinced they have three choice. Cup 1, 2, or 3. But really the ball is in the con mans hand the whole time.
Most of you probably knew that already. But have you ever stopped and looked around at your life to see just how often we believe that the set of options around us are really the only choices we have to choose from?
We habitually buy in to the parameters put in front of us and rarely try to see around them. I doubt any of you would ever fall for the shell game. And yet we do it every day.
Back to me being thankful.
Do you know why I'm thankful? Or maybe I should say, what I'm most thankful for? Because, yes, I am thankful that I don't have chemo anymore. I'm really thankful I don't have cancer anymore. I'm glad I'm not actively dying. I'm super glad I had my wife with me the whole time. She's awsome. But none of those things helped me accept the reality of this last year. None of those things had meaning beyond themself. (except for my wife, but that is another topic.)
I made this myspace(refer to first blog) page BECAUSE I had cancer. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have done it. I didn't feel like I had the time. But I had it, so I did. You are reading this blog BECAUSE I went through hell. And most importantly, I got back in touch with alot of people I had forgotten I cared about and had missed for a very long time BECAUSE my life was jeapardized by illness.
I'm thankful for my cancer because I'm thankful for all of you. Surviving is great. But having something more to show for it, to have made it worth not giving up, this brings meaning.
It brings thankfulness.
Don't let life convince you that your options are small and meaningless. Don't let yourself be convinced that the bad situation you are in is out of your control or without meaning. That the only options you have are "bad" and "worse" because what you see in front of you is often just an illusion.
It's just a shell game.
It's a false and flawed premise. There is more going on than what you see.
Look for it.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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