Have you ever received an egregiously offensive email?
I know I have. Whenever I do, I type out what I call a "response flambe" and immediately send it to ... my wife—for a reality check. If she sends me the equivalent of an electronic thumbs down, I simply hit "delete" and the message is gone from my computer. Simple. No harm done.
Life, however, often presents us with reality checks whether we like it or not. It is at those times that we are often forced to become introspective, reflect on our past, re-assess our current values, and contemplate the future.
I should know.
Over the years, I experienced two such "meaningful" reality checks from which I learned certain lessons or had confirmed certain beliefs, all of which boil down to to perhaps three different pieces of advice I would offer to anyone who might ask:
First: live life to the fullest. No one is guaranteed there will be a tomorrow.
Second: help others on life's journey wherever, whenever, and however you can.
Third: when your body speaks, pay attention.
In 1991, around Thanksgiving, my girlfriend and I decided to get married, put a down payment down on a house, and move in together to begin our new life after the first of the year. It was a very happy time as you can well imagine.
As the December holidays approached, I was preparing for a business trip to California. The morning of my flight I awoke feeling queasy and a bit feverish. Nevertheless, having been instilled with the proper work ethic, I board the plane and six hours later I found myself in the emergency room of a hospital in San Diego, with a fever of 103.
The doctors gave me a choice, and a rather monumental one at that. They said they could give me some medicine and send me home. The meds would help me sleep, knock out my fever, and by morning I would be fine. Or, I could have myself checked into the hospital.
To me, this was the proverbial "no-brainer." I wasn't going anywhere. I was one sick puppy and had myself checked in. The doctors then ran me through a series of tests and took some x-rays and an MRI.
After that as I recall, I had some chicken broth, took some prescription medicine, and went to bed.
The next morning I awoke refreshed, the fever was gone, and I was ravenously hungry.
About 4:00 p.m., the doctor on duty came into my room to discuss the results of the tests. He spoke for about five minutes but did not really say very much.
Then, the dawn broke. I interrupted him and said, "Excuse me, Doctor, but are you trying to tell me that I have cancer?"
He whispered, "Yes."
I don't remember any of the conversation after that, although I do recall thinking what soliders on the battlefield say, "There are no atheists in foxholes." And, here I was on the front lines.
This was my first reality check.
The radiologist had spotted a shadow on my right kidney that later turned out to be a tumor the size of an orange. Four weeks later the tumor and my right kidney were gone.
For the past twenty years I've gone back to my urologist for semi-annual check-ups; so far so good.
Now, turning the pages of our calendar to December of 2006, I became cognizant of strange sounds coming from my abdoment that I attributed to digestive issues I'd had for years. Howevver, they soon became constant, loud gurgling noises I could no longer ignore.
I phone my doctor for an appoinment and was told he was booked solid for the next three weeks. Did I "want to see the physician's assistant?" Absolutely. I met with her that day. She ran a slew of tests.
The test results came back fairly quickly. I had tested positive for stage 4 lymphoma. My second reality check.
What followed was two and a half years of chemotherapy as prescribed by a team of 15 doctors and healthcare specialists at Johns Hopkins University Medical Center. To that group of people I owe an eternal debt of gratitude because it was the most targeted and least physically damaging treatment I could have gotten—and as I was told, would most certainly have received otherwise had it not been for their recommendation.
Now, twenty years later, my lymphoma is in remission. I am thankful for each day I have.
To you reading this article, I would urge you not to wait until life presents you with a reality check. Rather, beginning now, this moment, promise yourself and your loved ones that you will live life to the fullest, help others along life's journey, and when your body speaks: pay attention.
George Selby - Live life to the fullest, every day...Help others along life's journey...Believe in yourself
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