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Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

The Best Times of Your Life

“Now is the time, now is the best time, now is the best time of your life!”  

That was at one point the song that played in Disney’s “Carousel of Progress.”  I torture my family by insisting on going through that ride whenever we go to Disney. But I really like it. I am not sure why. The first time I saw it as a child I was amazed by it. The animatronics were cool. But also, the idea of how things have changed over time fascinates me. More than that, it is trying to imagine what it was like to live during those times.

Image result for disney carousel of progress
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Do you do this? 

I love to think about what life was like for my parents when they were my age. I love to think about my grandparent’s lives. 

What did it feel like to be alive in WWII? What was it like in the 50’s. I look at old pictures of my parents when they were young and wonder what they felt or how it was for them. I take my current age and think about what things were like when they were that age. Is it odd that I would have nostalgia for them? I will call this “empathetic nostalgia”. That is – trying to feel what they feel when they look back.

One day my father said something that was very profound. 

I have never told him but this wisdom has had a huge impact on my life. I am very thankful to him for having taught me this.

He said, “Some of our happiest days were when all of you kids were home. We could put you to bed at night and know that you were all safe and sound upstairs.”

Why was this so profound?

It is not just about the safety of our children. That is important but that is not the main point.

The main point is that life is fleeting and temporary. Your day today is only going to be here today. You will not get it back. If your children are sleeping soundly upstairs and it feels good, you must enjoy it because it will not be that way in the future. In fact, you should savor it like you would the last bite of a delicious dessert. Love it. Enjoy it. Taste it. Make it linger in your mouth for as long as you can.

The lesson he taught me was to cherish today.  

Especially as a father – the lesson – was to really really enjoy my children when they were with me. 

As we had our daughters this was imprinted on my brain and impacted how I lived my life.  What sort of a father was I going to be? Was I going to delegate everything to my wife because she was the mother? I was NOT going to do this. I knew that I was only going to get one chance to do all of the phases of their lives and I really wanted to be a part of them.

What does that mean? 

For one it meant that I got down on the floor. 

I remember this as a very conscious decision that I made. I decided that I was going to get down on the floor with my daughters and play with them. If they were interested in something, I was going to enjoy it with them. If they wanted to watch a movie cuddled under a blanket, I was going to be under that blanket with them. If they wanted to wrestle and play, then I was going to have fun and wrestle and play. When they were outside, I would play the big bad wolf and chase them around the yard while they giggled and ran to their play house. I would do it. And I would savor every minute.


Of course, I had to work during the day, but at night when I was home, I was going to be with them as much as was possible. And so the second thing was that bedtime was a Daddy job.I got to take them upstairs to help them get ready. I got to go through the bedtime rituals. And I loved it. The hardest part of the year I spent in Cleveland (as a geographic bachelor) was thinking about not being the bedtime parent. Bless my wife who would still let me be a part of it every night via phone. Those phone calls saved me.

As they progressed through their growing up years, the principle stuck. Today was the day that I was given to be a part of their lives. I was going to live today as much as I was able to do so.  I was going to force myself to stop and savor the moments.

I won’t claim to be perfect. I was clearly not. But the thought of the wisdom from my father stayed with me. Yes, it was good to have them all home. I had better not miss out on it, whatever that might look like.

I may write about this later (I have written it but not yet sure if I will post it), but the 3 hardest days of my adult life have been related to missing out on, or thinking of missing out on, things in my girls’ lives.

It is really nice now when they are all here. I want to make sure the house is warm and secure and cozy. I want to enjoy knowing that they are all here and safe.

But also, I really want to thank my Daddy. Because of his wisdom, I have savored – I have worked to truly enjoy – all of the times that I have had with them.  Today only happens to be here today. If I get a chance to be a part of their lives today then that I will do today.

Thanks Dad!

Trinity College Dublin, 2008. That was a really good time with the family!
Same location, same pose, 9 years later! That was also a really good time with the family. But of course, they are all good times. We enjoy all of them. Now is the time. Now is the best time of our life!
Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Updates on my health

Skydiving Through Life – Or Burnout Chapter 2

When Sarah went skydiving it was different than what I imagined it would be like.  

I always imagined the free fall as – well – “free”.  Wouldn’t it be first the amazing feeling of falling – like the initial drop on a roller coaster. Then would come the part where it would be like superman flying around in the sky.  Next would be after the parachute opened. You would be floating gracefully through the air. You would be looking around from way up in the sky with the amazing feeling of peace and freedom.  

This is Sarah and the instructor on their way to earth!

She tells me it wasn’t like that at all.  Not at all.

The Go-Pro video recording showed the reality.  

In reality she stepped off a plane flying at speed (150 mph). The free fall was instead the sensation of getting blasted in the face with wind at 150 mph.  At that speed – she said it wasn’t really that easy to appreciate the beautiful view. The video shows her cheeks violently flapping around in the wind in a not very graceful way.

Sarah is being brave but on the video you can see the 150 mph wind whipping her cheeks!

And then the shock and pull of the parachute against her arms and legs pulled into her skin.  The pressure and bruising and associated pain made the parachute ride also less idyllic then what I imagined. The trip down was a balance between trying to look around and wondering how long it would be before she would be free of the pain of the harness.

So also, with my life. 

Everything in my life seems to move at 150 mph. 

More often than not I get blasted in my face with the forceful wind of life.  I try to look out at the trees and grass and sunsets. But most of the time I am just feeling my cheeks pushed back and pretending to enjoy them and wondering why I can’t.  My iPhone is a constant temptation and a constant pull into the wind. Just when the wind slows, one email or text speeds it up again. One comment can be a reminder that triggers worries or thoughts of things that I have not done or that need to be done. 

There are good things in my work. But once again, the beautiful sunsets or the glint of the sun on the leaves get only a cursory appreciation as I pound through on dozens of things grabbing at me. A success on one patient but yet a long note to write in Epic and several patient calls and the enormous number of unread emails.

Someone told me once about eating a hot sauce that was so hot it just numbed up his tongue. In the end he couldn’t feel it – and he couldn’t even taste it. My life feels that way. I feel numb and long for times when I felt more human. Could I really have time to indulge emotion. Could I even know what I feel – and then be free to express it. Artists and poets and song writers get to do this. Can’t I get to do this also please?

Last night (10/3/18) I had the gift of driving alone with a sunset outside my window. Recent events made me not care about anything else. It could all wait. Putting on music and turning it up loud enough so that I could feel it was like the greatest indulgence. 

And for a moment it was there again: emotions. Appreciating what it means to be truly human. Unlike the real skydiving – it was better. I was floating and able to look around and see everything. Not blasted by the wind. But able to feel a gentle breeze and see colors and feel pain and beauty at the same time.


This is chapter two of my discussion of burnout.[1]  I wrote this three days after I was told that I had a “large retroperitoneal mass” that was likely cancer. 

I had been feeling the blast of life in my face for years. It was only with the threat of my own mortality that I could get angry enough to defy it all. It is odd that it took anger to overcome the stress of the world, but I think that was what the emotion was. I was finally determined and strong enough to fight against the pressures that would keep me from enjoying life. Sometimes you have to get angry at the circumstances that are destroying you.

It is now more than two months later. 

I am still only functioning with training wheels on. I am continuing to learn. My cancer diagnosis and the associated treatments are training wheels. They are keeping me from falling back into living a more certain life that pretends to let you feel and see and smell and love but mostly just keeps you numb. I am more human today than I was two months ago. I am working hard via prayer and study and writing this blog to learn. 

All of my family, friends and coworkers are making it easy. Their kindness to me has been overwhelming. Thursday night a large group of them from the transplant and VAD programs showed up outside my front door. They sang Christmas carols to me! They were all bundled up in the cold. They held candles. Their voices were sweet! Their faces were some of the greatest beauty I have ever seen!

The most beautiful faces in the world are my dear friends who love me!

 I tried to not cry. Their sweet children in the front were so adorable it made it easier. They made my heart happy. I had to steady myself on my wife because the emotions were so intense – so good – so real. I was fully human standing there. Thank you for making it easy. I didn’t need my training wheels that night because of you.

My beloved Sarah. She is always there to steady me.

I promise that I will continue to learn. My last week of radiation is next week. I hope that as I recover from that I might regain some energy and stamina. I am warned that the fatigue can persist for a while. I am also warned that the chemotherapy doses will be ramped up after this and they can and will cause fatigue and nausea. I guess the Lord thinks I still need training wheels for a while longer.

But I must learn because I feel a deep obligation to teach it to you. I want to somehow teach you to truly:

  • Feel
  • Taste
  • Smell
  • See
  • Hear
  • And love.

[1]I promise a chapter 3 with more insights and answers will come in a few weeks. I have written it based on the feedback from many of you but I want to spend some more time in reflection and study before posting it. So please bear with me. More will be coming.