SUNRISE - August 29, 2011

August 29, 2011 Sunrise 6:07 a.m.

“Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away”.  ~ Charles Caleb Colton

SUNRISE - July 19, 2011

July 19, 2011 Sunrise 5:57 a.m.

"The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people."   — Randy Pausch

SUNRISE June 16, 2011

June 16, 2011 Sunrise 5:41 am

"The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking places."  ~Author Unknown


"When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."
~Author Unknown

SUNRISE - June 2, 2011

June 2, 2011 Sunrise 5:43 am

As a vaguely interesting side-note, I am required by well-intentioned doctors to take a lot of pills.  Every day. To keep them straight, I have these little pill boxes marked Sunday through Saturday.  Two of them.  There is a large blue rectangular box that holds my obligatory night meds for cholesterol, heart, and blood thinner meds, etc.  Next to it is a smaller white rectangular box that holds my required morning meds that includes a pill to settle my stomach down from taking all the other pills.

Note: these pill boxes conveniently stack on one another next to the two types of eye drops I take every morning and every night for Glaucoma.  I supposed if the Glaucoma issues deteriorate enough, I won’t be able to clearly see the pills I have to take – ha.  Just inches away, is the tube of chloride paste I have to squirt in my custom teeth molds and wear nightly to protect my teeth from the ravages of the radiation and chemo treatment for the Cancer treatments that precipitated my growing fascination with the extra gift of TIME and what to do with it in the first place.  

Every Friday, the boxes are empty.  A week has passed. TIME to refill the pill boxes.  A week of my life has passed. What did I do with it?  I find myself measuring the passage of my TIME in the weekly required pill - box refills – a glaring and unavoidable marker of precious moments in the rear view mirror.

rlw

SUNRISE - February 9,2011

February 9, 2011 Sunrise 7:03 am

 Go for it now.  The future is promised to no one.  ~Wayne Dyer

Tomorrow is the big trip for Sarah to travel to Anaheim on a charter bus with her school orchestra to play on stage at Disneyland.  She is very excited as am I for the opportunity to see her participate in this grand adventure. 


I am grateful for the opportunity to see it.  


The third person from my Tonsil Cancer forum that was about 2.5 years out from treatment, was diagnosed also with Lung Cancer.  Seems like an unfair follow-up to feeling like you beat this thing and then get whacked when you were off guard.


One must maintain a certain sense of humor at what life decides to throw at you.


“Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe ten million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for thirty-five years and you pay it back and then -- one day -- you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then -- one day -- you step off a curb at Sixty-seventh Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe.” - Denis Leary

SUNRISE - January 30, 2011

January 30, 2011 Sunrise 7:13 am

"Like tomorrow was a gift,
And you got eternity,
To think about what you’d do with it.
An' what did you do with it?
An' what can I do with it?
An' what would I do with it?"

...Tim McGraw

I have had people say to me, after I (in detail) described the six month endurance run through Hell to keep Cancer at bay (you only get the Iron Man/Woman title after you make it through), that they wouldn't go through that.  They said they would just let the Devil take its course.  

Recently, my seventh grade daughter got "called up" to the big high school orchestra because of her skill with the cello (Principal Chair/Cello for the Intermediate School Orchestra), for a tour bus trip to Disneyland, to perform on stage and cut a CD this coming Friday. Is Dad taking a vacation day, driving ten hours down to Anaheim, buying a day pass to Disneyland, and stand in the front row at the concert with the movie camera?  Absolutely! 

This will be a Golden Moment I would not have had, if I had chosen the weaker course of action in 2008 and not gotten fitted for my custom claustrophobia mask, had two months of radiation and chemotherapy treatment.

Will this cherished Golden Moment extend beyond me?  Absolutely.  My gift to my daughter, from all of this, will be her being able to look up from her music stand, on stage in front of a huge crowd in Disneyland (she is still young enough to know this is way cooler than Carnegie Hall), smiling at her Dad beaming with pride, and actually SEE me in the front row of her momentous concert, rather than having to say "I wish Dad could have been here to see this.  He would have loved it."

rlw

* excerpt from a longer post at 'Another Day in Paradise'

SUNRISE - January 24, 2011

January 24, 2011 Sunrise 7:17 am

"Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it". • M Scott Peck 

Today is 1111 days since I was diagnosed with Tonsil Cancer.  Wow.  What a long strange trip it has been (apologies to the Grateful Dead).


I had an opportunity to exchange emails today with a fellow Tonsil Cancer patient, about to begin his journey this week.  Some days it seems like it was just a few months ago when this phase of my life began.  Some days it seems surreal, like a dream/nightmare and that it never really happened.


What is the value of the miracle of a Sunrise?  What is the value of watching and listening intently, as your beautiful daughter plays wondrous music on her cello?  What is the value of glancing up to see love in the eyes of your soul mate?


I am truly a very rich man, indeed.  One thousand, one hundred, eleven days - 1111.  There is a good omen in there somewhere.

rlw