At the sight of his grave, Scrooge said to the inexorable Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come “Before I draw nearer to that stone at which you point, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that will be or are they the shadows of the things that may be, only?”
If there was ever a man who reacted in a proactive way to his own mortality, it is Ebenezer Scrooge.
If there was ever a man who famously responded to his own mortality with an unprecedented reserve of grit and determination it is Lance Armstrong.
If there was ever a man who needs to find just a small amount of grit, determination (but I’ll accept a small amount of motivation) to make the most of a very bad hand…it is my father-in law.
If there is a woman who needs to try to find the positive, ignore or minimize the negative and find a reason to be happy… it is my mother-in-law.
If there is a man who needs to learn from previous events, apply what he has learned, and hopefully get the help he needs on time…that person is me.
I have had far too many glimpses of mortality this year; family members, friends, and my own. It is almost to the point of ridiculous how much bad shit has happened this summer alone. And as I am prone to do, all of this mortality has caused a bit of introspection on my part. While theories of how to deal with bad streaks range from the callous “shit happens” to the completely unacceptable (to me anyways) “divine plan of God” none of it really eases the pain for the victims or comforts those dealing with it.
I should have recognized the torrential flooding that ravaged my Northeastern state as a warning that the spring and summer were going to suck . In fact, I should have stayed indoors even after the flood waters receded. But I didn’t. I have a history of kidney disease. While I am near Dialysis and am searching for a donor, I generally feel pretty good most of the time. But this Spring I was sick. Nothing specific, I just felt like crap all of the time. I was terribly lazy, lacking the energy to cut my lawn. I was constantly overtired because I was working 7 days a week to make extra money. Normally I could handle such a schedule but this Spring and early summer it was really kicking my ass. I was gaining weight despite no change to my diet. But I got through it.
In the first week of July I collapsed in a Monday morning Managers meeting. In front of my superiors and colleagues I was writhing on the floor of a boardroom gasping for air and clutching my abdomen. I was then essentially carried out of the building by said coworkers to a waiting van to rush me to a hospital. They found nothing wrong with my abdomen of course but noticed that my Kidneys had taken a dramatic drop in function. Essentially my body was awash in toxins. My transplant date was moved up.
One week later I woke up at 3 am with a 103 fever, chills, nausea and severe pounding in my lower back. I had a massive kidney infection. Or so I thought. After being rushed to the hospital (again) it was not immediately known what was causing my illness. I actually heard a nurse ask a ER doctor “what is wrong with this man?” His reply was “I don’t know”. When he asked my father if I had a health care “proxy” I knew I was not doing well. After a full day of wildly fluctuating fevers, vomiting and a near-fatal reaction to a morphine based painkiller ( I was “unresponsive”, a nice way of saying not fucking breathing, for 2 minutes) I was diagnosed with a staph infection of my bloodstream that had attacked my entire body and in particular my weakened kidneys. I was in the ICU for 8 days, which I am told is a long time to be in ICU. I was eventually moved to a regular room and discharged with very specific orders to stay off my feet for a week. At the time, most of the week was a blur to me. I never could have survived 8 days in the ICU if I wasn’t comatose, drugged or delusional most of the time. But as I pieced things together I realized what took my doctor two weeks later to tell me…that I had almost died. So naturally I took stock of things, because I had the time to do so.
I reached few conclusions. I lead a pretty good life. I don’t screw people over for fun or profit. I am generally nice to everyone. My career is OK, not great but no major overhauls necessary at this point except to make more money. I am a decent husband and I could be a better father but I was working on that before I went down with illness. But I did find a resolve to be a little more positive and embrace the notion that briefly circulated the planet after 9/11. If you like someone, tell them. Hug them today not tomorrow. Don’t let petty things be the last memory you have of someone you love. And see the good in people. Acknowledge the neighbor who fed your family a cookout and cut your grass when you were sick. The friend that you considered an aquaintance until they brought you a care package of food and gifts when you were released from the hospital. And respect the coworker who you thought couldn’t stand you that gives you a hug on your first day back to work.
The only other conclusion I reached was that I had to take my health seriously. Stop drinking compulsively, find a donor sooner than later and try to get healthy. Sounds easy enough, right? Well it would be if I hadn’t had dealt with everything that would soon happen. My new resolve to face adversity was to really be put to the test.
To be continued…