Good Riddance!
At the end of 2007, just after I was diagnosed as “terminal,” the city of Norman began a major road construction project on NW 36th Street, the main road that leads to the housing edition where I live.
The project was supposed to be done in November of 2008, I believe, for I remember the signs saying something to that effect. However, not knowing whether or not I would make it to November of 2008, I was a little miffed. It didn’t seem fair that I would have to deal with the nuisance of road construction for the remainder of my days.
A year came and went, and I was still alive, somehow. But the road construction was still alive too, and thriving. There seemed to be no end in sight.
As 2009 rolled around, I couldn’t help but wonder which of us would outlast the other. Would I live longer than the road construction project or would my funeral procession be driving through gravel and orange cones?
These are the crazy little mind games one plays when facing death.
In mid January things were looking pretty grim for me, as a long-shot medical procedure failed to give the hoped-for results and cancer spread from my liver to lungs. Meanwhile the road construction seemed to be nowhere close to being completed. Arrgghhh!!!
But then, lo and behold, the tide started turning. I made it to mid April with no further progression of the disease. Meanwhile, several phases of the road construction suddenly ended. I had a real shot, it seems.
This week, after recuperating from another surgery, I finally had sufficient energy to head to work. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? Four brand new lanes and real sidewalks, my dear.
Eureka! I’d done it. I had lived longer than that mile of nonstop traffic, tractors, gravel, and dust.
I was thrilled.
Until I hit I-35. Road construction is due to be completed on that project in June of 2010.
I wonder…
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Comments
Jim, I found this story so ironic and funny, funny, funny! Maybe, it’s because I was reading the article while waiting for my latest cat scan. I and my sister met you in the waiting room last year at OU Medical while waiting for chemo. I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 2 years ago and I’m still here!
Since then, I have kept up with all of your postings and I have found them fascinating. I have not had all of the battles that you have, but I am always encouraged by your humor, insight and wit! Thank you for being such a blessing in my life.
Little things do mean a lot. (Wait, isn’t that a song already?) It’s a long and winding road (whoops again), and at least now it is a little smoother, too, for you. Thank you for continuing to share your story, and know people are pulling for you. Doctors at M.D. Andersen told my husband and me that they hope cancer someday will be considered a chronic disease rather than a death sentence, and I know medical advances are being made. You are proving that. Lung cancer did cut short my husband’s life, but his determination and that medical community gave us almost two more years as a family, when doctors had expected his time was shorter than three months. I know for sure: There is always hope. Your writing comforts me, and I thank you so much for that.
You’ll make it! Feels nice to drive on a brand new street doesn’t it? Glad to hear you are up and about again!