On Borrowed Time

On Borrowed Time

It's been a long time since I've published a blog post, but I felt this topic was a worthy one. Over the past two years, I have dealt with a series of health issues. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer two summers ago, and spent the following summer getting radiation therapy (which appears to been effective in eradicating it). Last year, I developed an antibiotic-resistant, E-coli based, urinary tract infection that landed me in the hospital for four days with IV antibiotics and temperatures of 104. Adding insult to injury, we were supposed to leave for Tuscany the day after I was admitted to the hospital!  After going to a pain specialist two months ago for lower back issues, and having been sent for a lumbar (lower) and cervical (upper) MRI, it was discovered that the spinal stenosis I've known I had for a while had become so severe in my cervical spine that without surgery, it would put put me in a wheelchair permanently in approximately five years. I had the surgery (laminectomy and laminoplasty) six weeks ago and have recovered completely. I have also been having problems for the last couple of months with increased light sensitivity in the afternoon sun (quite bright out here in Arizona). Two days ago, my ophthalmologist told me that the light sensitivity is due to developing cataracts that will need to be surgically removed sometime in the future.

I have not shared this catalogue of heath issues in a bid for any kind of sympathy. Actually, I'm feeling quite fine at the moment and am in excellent spirits. I could, of course, have dropped into a funk each and every time one of these diagnoses and need for treatment occurred. What saved me from doing that is the Buddhist philosophy I espouse and have shared with you on a number of occasions. First of all, I truly adhere to the phrase, "It is what it is." All of the clothes-rending, hair-pulling, woe-is-me responses that are possible in such situations (and sad to say are often adopted) are simply a waste of time. Railing against the gods, attempting to deny the reality of the situation, and complaining to one's self or others only serve to take our attention away from seeking whatever options might be available (and they are many) to deal with the issue at hand.

This is not say that I, or my wife and family were not concerned, and frankly a little scared as each of these occurrences unfolded. We were, and there were certainly some tears shed along the way. I am an ordinary person, and my first reactions are always going to be those of anyone else. However, because of my Buddhist perspective and frequent meditation, something else became abundantly clear, and made all of this much easier to accept. The fact is, all of these health issues are simply proof in the most real sense that everyone and everything are impermanent. I'm 66 years old, and have enjoyed a full life, with many interesting experiences and adventures along the way. I certainly hope to continue to do so for many years, but the simple truth is that the last two years have made it abundantly clear that the sand in my hourglass is gradually running out, and there is a lot less in the chamber than there used to be.

This is not in any way dwelling on a morbid thought; I do not think about death with any regularity. Rather than being a reason to wring our hands, the fact that each of us has a shelf-life should focus all of us on fully appreciating the miracle that is our life in every moment; we see, hear, taste, smell, feel, create thoughts, love,  are aware of the world around us! Being reminded of my impermanence has in fact renewed my commitment to living each moment with awareness, and savoring the preciousness of being aware, alive, and in love in each new day.   

Namaste