One year and one day ago we thought we'd cleared the scary pancreatic cancer from my otherwise healthy body. The December CT-scans had looked promising.
One year ago I received the report on my June scans, and my world turned upside down. The pancreatic cancer was not gone and had in fact metastasized to my lungs. I was suddenly facing a grim prognosis.
Going through a period in which one feels fine, but has been given a death sentence, could be a time of 'woe is me' and the gnashing of teeth. Somehow that's not how it went for me.
Each summer, when Alva and I rendezvous with as many of the Caprons as can make it to our New Hampshire summer house, Alva and I like to walk down to the Cold River that runs along the back of the property so we can skinny dip in the deep granite pools burbling with fresh, very cold water.
Being told that there was no cure and that I had an aggressive form of metastasized cancer, I felt thrust into the Cold River. Shocking. Startling. Somewhat frightening. And yet. Invigorating. Bracing. And utterly enlivening.
With everything, every moment on the line, my life became exceedingly clear. Nothing had changed, except that my inevitable mortality had been given more clarity, more light, more freezing cold water, than it had before.
What changed? Everything. For the past year I've found such vibrancy in every moment, every conversation, every opportunity to think about you, about how grateful I am for my life rich with love and friendship and teaching and learning. What a fortunate man am I.
And now, thanks to the efficacy of the drug trial I've been on for six months, instead of getting more and more metastases, the PARP Inhibitor is shrinking the tumors in my lungs and lowering the cancer markers in my blood. I have been granted months more of full-bodied life. And we shall see what's down the road, but here is the road. Because this road is lit by love, so much love, it will never really end.
And yes, we are sheltering in place since March 16. I've been dealing with some serious lower back issues. Alva turned 80 in April and I turned 70 in May. Surprise ZOOM parties. delicious treats mysteriously appearing on our doorstep, and in May a very safe, actual visit with our beloved Seth & Jane.
My deep serenity, my sense of living from a joyous heart, and all the loving notes and letters I've received....all of these are what count.
Now. Notice your blessings. Express your love. Listen carefully to those whom you love. Savor every morsel. Let go of anger, while maintaining your righteous indignation at racism wherever its ugly head emerges. We are all one now. We each have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Marvel that you began. Give everything to the middle. And don't be afraid of the end.