Any guesses as to what I am guilty of? Depends how far you go back. Gotta be careful here as my kids read this blog and if you travel back as far as my college years, well, you can just imagine. Or even back to my kid days. OK, I’ll fess up to:
- Putting my feet in wet cement
- Along with my buddy, setting his backyard tree on fire
- With my nefarious grammar school chums, denuding a neighbor’s house of all its Christmas lights, but feeling guilty a day later and leaving them in a box on their doorstep. Yes, I still feel bad about that one.
- Buying firecrackers and cherry bombs on the black market
- Purchasing alcohol before I was 21
- Drinking that alcohol
- “Partaking” in college (defined however you wish)
- Sneaking into a movie theater without paying
- Cheating on my wife. Yeah right. I’d already be dead.
- Jaywalking, speeding…OK, now we’re just getting silly.
Why come clean now? Eh, I’m sure a lot of you are thinking, “is that all?” OK, I was mostly a goodie two-shoes in high school, never even having cut one class. Might even have made the goodie three-shoes level. Too afraid of getting kicked off the football team I suppose. Made up for it a bit in college. And this was all BR, as in Before I joined Rotary, with its 4-way test. Reading this Chuck? BTW, this is not an all-inclusive list. Gotta leave some mystery.
But the question remains: what am I feeling guilty about?
The easy answer: feeling too damn good.
OK, that that is a pretty lame statement. No, let’s be honest. A pretty stupid statement. But on a certain level, it is how I feel. Let’s face it, relatively speaking, a year after being diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, I am feeling very fortunate to be in the position I am. Quite a few don’t even make it this far and many others have, or are having, a very tough time. So I don’t mean to be glib or come across as not having sympathy for my fellow survivors who may not be doing so well when I expound on my good health. Just the opposite in fact. So there is an element of guilt that creeps into my perspective. Yeah, I know. Nobody said I was being rational. And I know this whole scenario could turn on a dime and I would not be blogging this same conversation. But I’ll take what I have. Plus, as I said, it’s all relative.
Now that I’ve talked so much about how good I feel, here comes the “relative” part. And yes, I talk about my relatives. Always in a good way of course. Remember Hawaii? Nuf said. But my buddy, Tarceva, likes to play games with me and right now he (she? I’m an equal opportunity druggie) is treating me to a frustrating case of Don King-itis. OK, I’m not a Photoshop genius like my daughter but you get the drift. Have to slump way down in my seat in my car so I don’t poke holes in the overhead lining. Plus my eyes feel like I’m constantly being barraged by a dust storm. I can now be legitimately described in that lineup above as “squinty-eyed.” Eh, small stuff.
This past Friday, the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center, where I work, was privileged to host a fundraising concert in honor of Loren Nancarrow, who recently lost his battle with brain cancer. It was a very cool event and raised quiet a bit of dough for Scripps Radiation Therapy Center where he was treated. They are trying to raise enough ($500K) to have the Healing Gardens there named after him. Click here for more info.
Well, tomorrow is D-Day. Back to the gym for the first time in over a year. Gotta get back in shape for those weekly triathlons I mentioned. Right now I get winded retrieving a beer from the fridge. Notice I didn’t use the term “ice box?” I’m not that old. But yeah, gotta get back on track. If I’m successful, I will have to do some convincing of my onc-doc that I lost weight on purpose. He ain’t gonna like it.
Oh, and I totally forgot what I promised in a prior blog. For those of you (I’m assuming none) that have been wracking your brain trying to remember what TV show filmed it’s final scenes at Pacific Ocean Park (P.O.P) back in the 60’s, it was The Fugitive. Now you can relax and add that bit of trivia to your next party conversation.
Business as usual. Day at a time.