A Curious Mixture
I was in my car yesterday, heading for lunch, when I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in several months. I rolled down my window and said hi, and she walked over to my car.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said. “So… how’s life?”
“Life is a curious mixture of wonderful and awful,” I said.
I wasn’t being philosophical. Right now, life seems to bounce back and forth between breathtaking mountaintops and scary-dark valleys.
My writing life couldn’t be much better. With this blog, as well as new prose and poetry projects, I have more work than I could have ever hoped for or imagined. As far as creative writing is concerned, I’m exactly where I once wanted to be.
But my health couldn’t be much worse. In the last year, I’ve had cancer in three vital organs. Large tumors remain in my liver, and they are inoperable, according to one of the best doctors in the world. Chemo, which I have every other week, is zapping my energy like never before. Last week, it took me five days till I began feeling good enough to resume normal activities.
However, as a result of my books and this blog, I’ve been fortunate to connect with many people in a very real way. People I don’t even know write and say some of the nicest things, the kind of notes that are good for hours and hours of happiness. Just today I received an email from someone who said they’d passed my cancer memoir on to about ten people. Yesterday, someone wrote encouraging words about the blog and how they enjoy all the stories with humor blended in. An old childhood friend wrote me a nice note, thanking me for the video about a tree we all used to climb. A dear friend from high school sent me a long letter filled with wonderful memories of days gone by. And I chatted with another dear friend who encouraged and cheered me up.
But there’s another side to all this connecting. Believe it or not, people write mean letters too. They are almost always religious in nature and accuse me of awful things. Today, it was from some guy lecturing me on prayer. He had completely misread or misinterpreted one of my blog entries and felt “compelled” to respond, i.e., he needed to teach a dying man a lesson or two.
Oh well… you get used to it.
But on the positive side, I continue to get a steady stream of speaking opportunities. A couple of weeks ago, it was a fun writer’s group in Norman, then an incredible house concert in Dallas with my friends Nathan Brown and Billy Crockett. This weekend I’m speaking at a church. After that I’m reading at the Scissortail Creative Writing Festival, OU Law School, a local business, and the Edmond library. Future house concerts and readings are in the works in Wichita, Bartlesville, Austin, and Houston.
Of course public appearance require me to, well, appear in public. This means people I know get to see me slowly disentegrating before their eyes or, if they don’t know me, to form a first impression. This is a bit of a challenge, as my right arm, gall bladder, and hair are gone. I now wear hats as a matter of course, and I’m already dreading the naked mole rat look I’ll be sporting outdoors in the coming months.
Oh well, at least I’ve been able to spend some wonderful time with friends and family recently, collecting what amounts to many years of priceless memories during a short amount of time. At times I’ve wanted to pinch myself and ask, “Does it get any better than this?” Like when I watched my wife lead Whittier’s Math Counts team to the State Championship a few weeks ago. That was a thrill, for she will now coach Oklahoma’s team when it goes to Nationals in Orlando this May. Yea!
But, to be honest, I’ve also been at the end of my rope several times in this same time period. At least three times I’ve sincerely questioned how much more a person can take.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Highs and lows.
Up on the mountain. Down in the valley. (Valley so low)
Of course I’m not the only one in the world experiencing pain. I know many of you are too. You’ve written. You’ve called. You’ve told me, face-to-face.
And I’m feeling your pain.
Why?
Because life is real.
Really good and really bad.
A curious mixture of wonderful and awful.
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Comments
Dear Jim:
Cancer patients “get it”. “It” being the curiosity, the thrill of previously simple things, how precious each new dawn is. We (I’m fighting stage III breast cancer) also know how easy it is to go to the darkness of despair. It’s just like you said mountain to valley and back again. I like to read Newsok online, and I’m so glad I found your blog. I’m an ex-patriot living in, dare I say it, west Texas. But the folks are good out here. You mentioned Nathan Brown. I used to date his oldest brother, Bobby, many, many years ago when we both lived in Shawnee. Nate was just a young boy then and Bobby was the one with all the musical talent. I remember having Sunday dinner at Dr. & Mrs. Brown’s home and a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses rang the doorbell! How funny! Had I not read your blog, I wouldn’t have remembered that and enjoyed the memory. Wow, moment by moment. That’s how we live. As for the “prayer” guy…pray for him. Before cancer someone like that would have bothered me, but I don’t have that luxury anymore. If you’re open to it, there is a lovely little book out called “Cancer and The Lord’s Prayer”. I’ve found it comforting and opened my mind to a new way of understanding that prayer. Well, didn’t mean to be so wordy. May the peace of God be with you. I’ll look forward to more of your blogs.
I’ve decided that after reading all of these wonderful, insightful, PROFOUND posts, most don’t dare comment. You have said it so beautifully.
Thank you for helping us understand…understand what you are experiencing, and likely, what others have, are or will experience. Your insights help us love better.
So, Jim, thank you. Keep on fighting!