Let’s get lost

Rainclouds over San Jacinto

I have thought for a long time that when all is said and done, I would like my life to “add up to something.” And those four words used to mean something, though I can't say just what anymore. I don't mean a CV or resume-style summary of my professional life, which used to be enough for a job interview. (What job would I be applying for now anyway? Good question.). I don't mean an obit page wrap-up either, or a Ralph Edwards This Is Your Life portrayal. So I know what I don’t mean, but whatever I do mean, the idea won't go away.

Maybe this is just a long way around to saying that I've begun to resist being a cancer patient. My days have become increasingly organized around that identity: the MRIs and daily meds routines, the appointments with doctors, the chemo and its side effects, the regime of exercise, physical therapy, meditation, and relaxation videos, while staying positive and getting enough rest. etc. 

Cancer consumes one’s waking hours and leaves little time for simply living what's left of life. Neglect anything on that list (which I do), and I feel like I'm not doing all I can to flourish as long as I can. I know, it may seem more than a bit like the thinking of a workaholic.

Desert "downpour"

Lately, when I put this all out of my mind, I find myself gravitating to what I’ll call “unfinished business,” a choice of words that sounds too much like work again, but that’s the best I can do. Yesterday I spent an hour clearing clutter from the garage for the trash and recycling bins, knowing that I have many more hours of this to go. Instead of borrowing new books to read, I work my way through the unread ones that have been sitting on my shelves for years, mentally flagging the ones to box up and send off to friends someday.

Meanwhile, I have another MRI on Monday and see the oncologist on Wednesday. I started on an antidepressant that the pharmacist says should show results in two weeks. I believe that means I’m supposed to begin feeling normal again, but I've begun to forget what normal feels like. So who knows?

On YouTube I stumbled upon a Tibetan chant of healing by the Dalai Lama for his ailing Czech friend Václav Havel (listen here), and I feel delivered for a while from the work of being a cancer patient still wondering about the purpose of his life. And lest I forget as I write this, thanks to all who stop here each week, especially for the comments left. You make my day.

So life goes on. 

And, of course, for both diversion and illumination, there’s still jazz to remind us of living life spontaneously and joyfully. Perfect choice this week suggested by a reader, Chet Baker’s cheerful love song, “Let’s Get Lost.”



Any other readers with jazz favorites of their own, links to them are welcome. 

Previously: Drifting