Walking the Dog
So yesterday was the big day: the day The Oklahoman formally launched its stories about my family and me in the newspaper.
Yes, we’ve been blogging in this “Life is Real” series for well over a month now, and many people started reading weeks ago. But the internet’s not for everyone, so yesterday was officially the “big day.” For on that day the story was due to appear on the front cover of the paper, and many thousands of readers would decide for the first time whether or not my story was something they were interested in.
You might be wondering how that made me feel. How does it feel to have a third party (Ken Raymond) reflect on your life after many weeks of careful observation and then report his thoughts to a great many others who don’t know you from Adam?
Well, I felt a little queasy, to be honest. Oh, I wasn’t nervous about how the story would be told or received, mind you-that was out of my hand(s). I would instead liken it to those college days when grades are due to be released. The work was done. The grades were due and beyond anyone’s control. And although you think everything will probably turn out fine, sometimes it’s just a little easier not to think about it.
Listen. I believe in what we’re doing here, and I know Ken’s a seasoned writer who’s more than up to the task. Nevertheless, it’s a little intimidating to read what an unbiased third party thinks about your life. Plus, even after all these years of dealing with and writing about cancer, I still find it difficult, at times, to look at what the disease has reduced me to.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to face the story right away. I had a poetry reading in Tulsa on Saturday, so my wife and I spent the night there at the Warren Doubletree. I awoke on Sunday morning to a hotel full of Tulsa Worlds and USA Todays, but virtually free of other newspapers. Plus, my computer was back home in Norman, so I had no ability to read the story online.
I suppose we could’ve found an Oklahoman in Tulsa if we’d really wanted. But instead of heading to the nearest 7-Eleven, LeAnn and I drove to the Blue Dome Diner for a fabulous breakfast. (The French toast rocks, by the way.) After that, we carefully avoided all newspaper-selling stores and drove home.
We arrived in Norman sometime after one p.m., and within minutes the newspaper was staring us in the face. I picked it up, flipped through the photos, and then went to the back bedroom for a nap without reading a word. I awoke an hour later. Rested, I again fought off the urge to read what had been written about me and went to walk the dog.
As my golden retriever Gracie could tell you (if she wasn’t a dog), I’m not the best dog-owner in the world, at least when it comes to taking her out on walks. A couple of years ago, I was much better, walking three miles a day, four days a week, with Gracie and my friend Dave. But I fell out of the habit, and the latest cancer diagnosis made returning to such walks difficult. My fatigue always seemed to take precedence over Gracie’s need for a walk, despite how much I love her and despite all the guilt I’ve recently experienced after watching Marley and Me.
Poor dog, even she was suffering as a result of my cancer.
Anyway, you know I’m procrastinating about something when I suddenly announce that I’m taking Gracie out for a walk. But walk we did.
It was a beautiful, glorious day, especially for January. Fifty-five degrees, sunny, no wind. Gracie and I walked over to a nearby park. There, I took off her leash, and she ran back and forth in the happy-go-lucky way dogs do, as if we had no problems, as if we owned the world. I breathed in the crisp air and considered my surroundings. Some children were playing on the swings nearby. It hadn’t been too long ago when my own kids were out there on the playground. Time passes so fast.
After awhile, I called Gracie back over and put her leash back on. I patted her on the head and told her what a great dog she is. I told I was lucky to have her, that I didn’t know how a person made it through cancer without a dog like her, always happy, always ready and willing to give as much time as was needed. She licked my hand in response, and I told her how much I love her.
Then we turned and headed back home. There was a newspaper story waiting. It was time to return to the real world.
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Comments
Jim, knowing you the past few years has meant a great deal to me. My admiration for your courage knows no limits. I grow angry when I think about how long the doctors delayed giving you a correct diagnosis. It also bothers me that a person with your illness has to worry about the unbelievable medical bills. Many Americans lose their homes and life savings every year because of medical expenses. My thoughts are with you and your family.
I read the article Sunday, which drew me to your blog. I am a healthy middle aged woman who is experiencing a new gratitude for life through your unfortunate circumstance. Know that your challenges are not in vain to family, friends, and even strangers like myself. Peace be with you.