Boy, do I strike out on this one!

Yes, I thank God everyday for being alive.  And last night I took our dog, Finnegan, out for a midnight walk down to the beach under a glorious full moon.

But truth be told, I get too caught up in all I have to do every day.

There are advantages and disadvantages to working from home. Yes, I can get up and write in the shorts and T-shirts I slept in last night if I’m too lazy to get dressed. Forget shaving. I can graze throughout the day, eating and drinking what I want and feel my body needs.

But it all isn’t rosy working from home. There’s always the “honey-do-list” tugging at me; clean this, fix that.  I can’t blame my wife Pattie for that; I have my own arm’s length list of projects I want to complete before I leave in a short ten days for the modified autologous stem cell transplant I discussed in my April column ^[1]. But I realize I need to slow down.

This column isn’t so much to give you advice. I’m writing this column as a reminder to me.

Pat, the next six or eight weeks are going to be hard – really, really hard.

Why do it? High-dose melphalan ^[2] (Alkeran) is bad enough. But adding thalidomide ^[3] (Thalomid), Velcade ^[4] (bor­tez­o­mib), and dexamethasone ^[5] (Decadron) to the mix before, during, and after my recovery is guaranteed to add to the “fun.” Why endure the nausea, diarrhea, bone deep fatigue, and all the rest?

For the joy of life!  The joy I’ll be able to feel on the other side. The joy of feeling my dog rest his head across my feet as I write. The joy I get from hearing from a reader, thanking me for helping them get through a bad day or similarly tough time. The joy of kissing my wife goodbye in the morning as she rushes out the door, heading to a job she hates to pay for the insurance that helps keep me alive. (OK, sometimes there’s some guilt, too.)

The joy of marveling at the fluorescent green sheen of the quarter-sized tree frog climbing our pool screen. The joy of watching wild horses graze on unspoiled Cumberland Island, a ten-minute boat ride across the Amelia River.

I’ve been reading about the history of the 17-mile long island that runs parallel to the border between Georgia and Florida. The Carnegie family built audacious mansions that used to dot the island. The ruins still stand, a monument to the days of steel barons and their excesses.

Rekindling my interest in history – Pattie and I were both history teachers in a past life – is something else I can look forward to “on the other side.” It brings me a joy that I lost for a time.

I love being productive. Helping others; feeling like I matter! I’m guessing most of us feel this way. At some point my body will give out and it will all be too hard. But until then, the joy of being alive makes the fight worthwhile.

Whether you are an experienced, late-stage patient like me, or were only recently diagnosed, it’s only natural to get caught up in the physical and emotional toll living with our cancer takes. But there is so much beauty around us; so many people that need us.

We all have a lot to live for. The trick is to find it, grab on, and not let go!

Feel good and keep smiling!