The year that was

Today marks the one year anniversary of my journey with cancer. Such a year it has been! Someone commented that life doesn't end with the diagnosis, but begins. Every moment is precious and must be lived to the fullest, enjoyed, mused over, recalled, mulled, discussed, and most of all a focus for a moment of thanks for the gift of life given to me by my biologic ancestors and extended by wonderful, loving, skillful, health-care workers in our community- Medford , OR. The joys of the past year have been amplified by the gift of family, friends, and a caring community. Thank you all!

Some highlights of the past twelve months:

Our daughter Maryann wedded a fine gentleman from Denmark and they now make their home in Seattle. Maryann graduated from the University of Rochester medical school in May and I was privileged to hood her in the graduation ceremony. It was a proud moment to see her give the class address to assembled parents, students, and faculty titled,"Mom's rules", a tribute to Marjorie's indelible impact on our children and their outlook on life.

In late October, Jack, our first grandson, arrived about six or seven weeks early, and the family spent anxious weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit while he gained strength. Upon discharge home he promptly had several apparent-life-threatening-events(ALTEs in medical parlance) and returned to the intensive care unit, where it was determined that he had congenital vascular abnormalities around his windpipe and esophagus and required surgical relief. Imagine sewing together wet spaghetti noodles, but they did it, and he was homeward bound in about three days. Since then he has thrived under the love and care of Liz and Tim, his parents, and multiple doting family hangers-on. There are two basic expressions on Jack's face: joy and wonderment, and "is it time to eat yet"? An interesting spectacle is six to ten adults held in rapt attention for hours by the facial expressions of an eight month old; "look, he just gurgled, he will be a talker". It reminds me of that momentous day in the 1950s when we first got TV reception in western Montana. It was some scintillating program like "Industry on Parade", brought to you by Twenty Muleteam Borax soap, and voice over by Ronald Reagen. We couldn't help ourselves, we had to watch!

I am doing well, and am functionally well, but I have to come clean, I am using performance-enhancing drugs, which is my secret term for my monthly chemotherapy. I know I'd be denied a position on the brain-bowl team if they knew I was juicing my brain up with these helpful poisons but the stakes are high and if they will get me the gold of more precious moments I will take the chance and endure the possible embarrassment of public disclosure.

Thanks to all of you who have made this year so precious; family, friends, the Creator of All, you sustain me, power my spirit, and I cast out to all enduring gratitude, vim and vigor, and know that it will make your days more precious as well.

I leave you again with my favorite poem by Emily Dickinson, "Hope" 1861.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops - at all.

And sweetest - in the gale - is heard
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little Bird
that kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
and on the strangest sea,
yet, never in extremity,
it asked a crumb - of me.

Beam me good wishes and I will return them multi fold. Eric