We’re all terminal, but some of us have accelerated time lines.
A few months ago I was diagnosed with late stage metastatic lung cancer. The prognosis, as you might imagine, is not good, and the timing is uncertain. Do I have six months? Three years? More? Less? No one can say.
Before the diagnosis I lived for months with intense pain, a wildly plummeting heart rate, a lost voice, and questions. Many questions. As of today, the pain and heart rate are under control, the voice is returning, albeit sporadically and in a diminished state, and the questions have dwindled. WHAT has been answered, and WHY no longer matters. I am left with the ever-wavering WHEN, which I refuse to dwell upon, and HOW, which has morphed into “how shall I spend my remaining hours”?
To that end, I choose to celebrate, to share those brief wonders and observations, the sights, feel, smells and sounds of tangible and intangible joys, the moments and experiences, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant, that weave through our days and add immeasurably to our lives.
I’ll post these brief notes here from time to time, as circumstances allow. I hope you might join me, lend your wisdom and insight, tell your stories, offer poems, share your moments, memories and precious time. Life is good! Let’s celebrate!
O at the Edges 
Very sorry to read this but am also very impressed with your attitude towards it. I wish there are many thoughts for you to share as life beats strongly inside you.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you, Leonard. This blog, and the people participating, are good medicine!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Books for me are a consolation. And poetry the best of all.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Books were a way of life for me. They defined my existence, even as I earned a living doing other things. And yes, poetry. Best of all!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I always have 1 or 2 books of poetry on my desk. More so than novels now. The only other type of books I read are history: ancient & middle ages. Lots of lessons to be learned which are political leaders seem to fail to grasp.
LikeLiked by 2 people
When I had a job that allowed me to ride the bus to work, I’d carry two books—nonfiction for the morning, fiction for the evening. I was able to read a lot back then!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Some jobs provide ample time to read. Teaching, though, took up too much time correcting papers. It wasn’t until I went over to the dark side of administration that I could finally read again.
LikeLiked by 2 people
My bookstore days offered scant time for reading, though I recall getting caught up in a book from time to time, much to the detriment of regular chores.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about Faulkner when he worked for the post office and would refuse to sell stamps, often mislaid mail pouches, and spent most of his time in the back reading.
LikeLiked by 2 people
That sounds about right. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
We do have a wonderful family here on WordPress 🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
We d, indeed!
LikeLiked by 2 people
👍🥳
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our time here is but a moment in the universe … keep enjoying the moment my friend …
LikeLiked by 4 people
Just a few days ago I was 14 years old…
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a moment…
LikeLiked by 2 people
Time dragged on back then. Now it zooms by.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I cannot catch time
I cannot see time
And sometimes
I have even lost time
LikeLiked by 2 people
It’s always getting away.
LikeLiked by 2 people
In catchable
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m sorry, Robert.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Andrew. Good to hear from you. I feel good today. Can’t ask for much more than that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome. I’m glad you had a good day.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Sending you much love and healing vibes and to Stephanie and your family as well.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Luanne. We appreciate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am so sorry to hear this news, Robert. I will keep you in my prayers.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you! Life is good. Keep celebrating!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes it is…
LikeLike
Plan a nice day for yourself. Watch a hysterical movie. Play your favorite music loud. Hug some puppies or babies. Enjoy a fancy dinner.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Every day is nice. Some are just filled with appointments. Ha! Today I’m cooking my stepson’s favorite pasta dish. It is a joy to watch him eat. A joy and a wonderment. How does he pack away so much? 😀 And if the mood strikes, I may have a beer or a glass of wine. And maybe a popsicle. And perhaps I’ll pluck guitar strings and watch baseball (a recent enthusiasm), and kiss my wife multiple times. So much to celebrate!
LikeLiked by 2 people
That is wonderful! We all should be like that everyday!
LikeLiked by 2 people
That is my goal. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Goodness Robert. I’m sorry I missed this when it was posted. The news hit me like a thunderbolt. I shall spend the early morning – my silent space – reflecting on your eight poems published in “No more can fit into the evening”. One a day and remembering you. “Even tongueless bells ring”.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Bruce, for sharing your silent space. Much appreciated!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for sharing. I am sad about your pain and I am encouraged that you have worked out which questions to ask and which ones to ignore. I pray that your days are filled with celebration. Thanks for leaving a positive mark on this world through your writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your kind words. Life is good!
LikeLike
Bob, I’m only seeing this now. I’m so sorry. Your words and your blogging friendship mean a lot to me ❣️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Mek! The feeling is mutual. I’m feeling pretty good, and celebrating each day. Life is good!
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for sharing this news with us. You have a great attitude and I believe that keeping realistically positive is beneficial.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m not hoping for a miracle, but science has given me additional time. No one can say how much, but I’m grateful for what I’ve been gifted.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Gratitude, itself, is good medicine.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heartbreaking news, Robert! I’m sorry I missed this when it was posted. Your poetry has meant much to me over the years. Thank you for sharing it. Thanks also for your blogging friendship. May your days be filled with celebration! Hoping your doctors can give you that long extension.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dianne, for your support and friendship. I’m feeling good today—that’s a start!
LikeLike
So good to hear!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think of you each week, and this is one poem that resulted from those thoughts this winter: https://frankhudson.org/2024/01/04/to-not-be-scared-of-death-that-doesnt-understand-us/
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your blog is always thoughtful and interesting, Frank, and I am envious of your musical prowess! Always much to process.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I popped by your page not expecting this painful news. I’m so sorry, dear traveler. I hope that our paths will cross for many more moons and then into the next lifetime as well after you return to the river of love from whence you sprang.
Blessings.
Kay
LikeLike
Thank you, Kay. I’m grateful for every day I’ve been gifted, and I’m looking forward to those ahead. Our house is full of love and laughter. What more could anyone ask for?
LikeLiked by 1 person
💜 How wonderful. Indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your courage and insight are admirable and inspiring.
LikeLike
Thank you, Carl. I’m just trying to live a good life, to be a good person. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I fail. But I keep trying.
LikeLike