Cancer

Life reminded me who is in charge: I have Stage 3 or 4 Lymphoma cancer in my back. I can't walk.

I'm not that tough, after all.

It snuck up quick and silent, mascarading as a typical back-ache and scoliosis... six weeks ago. Six weeks!

At first, I did more yoga, then the upside-down traction table, then went to the Chiropractor four times, then my GP doctor and finally a referral to the back specialist who sent me to the cancer doctor. The pain was unbearable. 

All this with friends taking and helping me, and my best friend interceding. 

I was lucky that there was that new, freshly-graduated star waiting in the wings, or I'd be dead by now. She is one smart cookie cancer doctor. And even more hyperactive than me! I am also lucky to have unbelievable great friends helping me.

Have had several Radiation treatments. Yesterday had my first Chemo... all day long. Will have more of everything before the next Chemo "bullet" in three weeks.

As it is, I'm starting this tough struggle quite late, and don't know where I'll end up. More humble pie, but perhaps goodbye. Lord, have mercy on me.

- copyright 2014 by Willy

Adjusting My Mind

I have always been physically tough, but not so much emotionally. My daughter figured me out. Earlier this year, she stated it: I live like a monk for five or ten years, then date and get hurt and go back to another five or ten years of living like a monk.

Body and mind are a package. When the mind is broken, the body suffers.

My daughter is right... I am no good at romantic relationships, but I have many good friends instead. Hopefully, old friends don't play cruel singles games. I could write a book but TV has captured them... like the one that went and screwed an old boyfriend and came back and bragged to me about it. Purely a daytime TV soap.

I'm no angel. Nobody's perfect and we all have baggage, but at least let's not associate with devils. Let's leave the poisonous snakes alone.

I've been adjusting my thinking to control my passions. I keep it inside my pants. I hug friends but do not cop a feel. This adjustment is kind of like the chiropractor does... cracks the bones of my mind.

I don't have to wade through bull to find what an old friend's problems are... I just have to accept and accommodate. I've seen my friends when they are a mess due to divorce, sickness, birth or circumstances. Most of us have some degree of neurosis, psychosis, schizophrenia and bipolar/mania/depression. However, I am blessed with kind friends, and I like them... otherwise we wouldn't be friends. The question of whether they can be tolerated is made easy by the fact that I'm not living with them. And, my tolerance to anger has been zero: bitch me out once and it's goodbye forever, so my current friends have passed through some sieve already.

I've worked at this and feel like I've got it but I proceed cautiously. I want good quality for the rest of my years. Adjusting my mind will take care of my body, so I can train.



-copyright 2014 by Willy

Bare Knuckles

I quit wearing gloves.

On one level, I quit wearing bicycle gloves, removed the speedometer/computer and tossed the heart rate monitor. I ride my heavy fat-tire bike... the carbon has been hanging from the ceiling for years. When I hike my usual solo 7-mile trails, I change to boots but wear whatever I have on (dress shirt and pants)... I do not carry water nor food but I do carry a phone. Bare knuckled.

On another level, I do not use an electric toothbrush either. At my shower you'll find a bar of soap and a razor... no shampoo nor bottles of any kind. At my sink is a toothbrush, Water Pic, baby oil and hairbrush. Pretty simple, eh?

There's only beer and popsicles in my fridge. I own no iron, no mixer, nor blender. I seldom use the heat or air conditioning at home, and I open my window at work. Do I live like a monk?

I do not use mosquito spray and I do not wave a stick in front of me to break the spiderwebs on-trail. Spider bites are an acceptable hazard.

Given a choice, I do it the hard way. I do not use work gloves at the farm. I use a hand saw, I use sandpaper in a block, I cut up small trees with a bow saw, and I usually drive a screw with a screwdriver. I have better control this way rather than with motorized tools, and it toughens my hands and joints. Bloody knuckles heal.

The world is fragile.

I do have to be careful, because I'm too strong. I have twisted doorknobs off, destroyed vacuum cleaners, and hurt with a handshake or hug.

Why?

Why do I do things the hard way? Not only do I like the accomplishment, but doing things the hard way is training. I will be able to do these things when I get old... while my buddies can't already. Use it or lose it!

Storms took the power down and a neighbor with a generator invited me to watch TV, but I thanked him and said that a candle and my iPhone will suffice. I do it because I like simplicity.

Although I'm a rocket scientist, I like no frills. The more complex something is, the higher the risk of failure and the lower the reliability. In my old cars, I've cut off many unneeded gadgets, and the cars are aging rather well. I like low risk.

Sooo... why live bare knuckled? Because it improves both my body and my character. A lot of people talk tough, but I live it.


-copyright 2014 by Willy

Happiness... What It is.

Much has been written about happiness. And everyone has a different definition of it. Mine includes outdoor activity, like hiking.

I plan several outdoor activities a year that keep me happy. Some are with others, and some are by myself. And it's all with variety and balance, from backpacking to just having lunch outside in a restaurant patio. No, I don't care if it's raining or sunny, hot or cold.

Happiness is having a fervor. And being able to scratch that itch.


-copyright 2014 by Willy

P.S., the ability to scratch an itch, not scratching every itch.