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I discovered Rogue Wave a couple years ago… they just happened to play on my internet radio station.
They immediately became one of my favorite bands.
I had no idea at that time that their drummer Pat Spurgeon was enduring treatment for a life-threatening illness.
On one of many trips from northern Michigan to the Cleveland Clinic, I was thinking about my surgery scheduled for the next day. It was one of two lung surgeries to remove tumors from the cancer that had spread through my body.
The first of these was a small mass, about the size of a dime. I had one of the top guys in the world working on me and it went great.
What really no one else knew was that the second tumor was much bigger… about the size of a walnut.
It was also wrapped halfway around one of my major arteries.
This is not cool.
So we’re driving down M-23 and I’m thinking about this and wondering if I’ll be alive tomorrow.
Then right at that moment, something happened…
I had to face death…
I was staring the grim reaper straight in the eyes… and I had to say, “ok.”
It was something I had absolutely no control over… and I had to find a way to embrace it…
not in the sense that I was “giving up the fight,” but more of just accepting the truth that I might die… and that it was ok.
That was almost 4 years ago now and I’m realizing how much truth I’ve missed in other areas of my life too.
The voices in my head have told me many lies over the years and I’ve believed a lot of them…
Most of which are about the imagined trajectory of my life (if i were to do this or that…)
or that certain parts of me don’t exist or that I can control them…
or selling other people short…
or that conflict will always end badly…
or that I won’t die…
I’m just now finally discovering the real truth.
The truth that the only way to be a hero is to dive headfirst into conflict. The truth that other people are more wise and compassionate than I think. The truth that there are parts of me that really suck… but it is me nonetheless.
The truth that I’m going to die.
Maybe today… who knows?
I hope not though, because I’m really looking forward to lunch tomorrow.
Lost someone today.
You could lose half a day if you happened to sit down in the room with Tom. He loved theology and loved sharing his discoveries even more… Nothing really made him happier than talking about new things he was learning (regardless of whether you cared to sit and listen).
As he leaves mortality behind, I can’t help but wonder at the discoveries in store for him.
My brother Thunderbeard has been blogging about (among other things) the weeks leading up to his dad’s death.
Finding a way to emotionally understand their edgy past and courageously seek some sort of resolve in their relationship has been inspirational reading for me and spiritually nourishing for him.
Feel free to share a story about Tom in the comments and be sure to check out Thunderbeard. He’s my brother and I love him and my heart’s aching for him today.
I’ll have to admit that I wasn’t very familiar with Warren Zevon.
Of course I knew “Werewolves of London,” but that was pretty much all I’d ever heard from the guy until he was diagnosed with cancer in 2002.
I noticed him then.
I’d only just recovered from my first bout with cancer and anytime I saw Warren on TV or whatever, I stopped to listen.
and everything he said made sense.
There is some sort of solidarity that comes with suffering.
If you’re blessed enough to have suffered very little, then you don’t know it…
But for those of us that have endured sickness, or hurt, or oppression, or poverty, or real loss… there is a connectedness.
Following news of his diagnosis, Warren appeared on Letterman’s show as the sole guest of the evening. I never really stay up late enough to watch Letterman, but I remember watching this.
When Dave asks him what has changed since he’d gotten the news, started treatment, etc.
Warren replies, “You put more value on every minute… you learn to enjoy every sandwich”
And that is just the thing.
For those of us lucky enough to have endured great suffering, even looked death right in the eye and survived, now find the minutiae of life magical.
I can take such great pleasure in something as simple as a sandwich, or an illustration, or something silly my kid says, or a song, or a breath of fresh air.
That is what Strong Odors is all about.
Since I was first diagnosed with cancer in 2000, I’ve had several occasions when I wondered if I might die…
If I’d be alive the next day, week, month, or year…
But only one time did I actually think, “this is it.”
It was around February, a very depressing time of year in northern Michigan… gray, cold, wet…
I was home with my family recovering from a round of chemotherapy and the long trip back from the Cleveland Clinic.
I came down with a cold.
When you’re on chemo, a cold can kill you… and the way I felt (physically), I thought this one just might.
I even snapped at my wife, who was dying a bit herself, trying to take care of me.
The next Sunday, we somehow dragged ourselved out of the house to get to church…