A Box of Hope
I knew the day would come and yesterday was that day. In my office closet sits a box. It is not just any box but a very special box. It is three feet long, two feet wide, and eighteen inches high. It has resided in my office closet since around April 1, 2010, when I received my first card wishing me good thoughts from one of you as I prepared for the uncertain battle with cancer that awaited me. I got literally thousands of cards, notes, and emails (I copied many of them) and put them in the box. I'm not sure why I put them there. Maybe it was because I knew in my heart that I would want to look at them at a later date. Maybe it was because I was too tired and disoriented to digest their contents when I received them. Maybe it was because I just didn't know what to do with them. Whatever the reason, they have been sitting there accumulating for 19 months. I don't get many letters these days and I interpret that as a good sign as I am recovering not deteriorating. However, the box sat there waiting for action on my part so I decided to "dig in."
One hour passed, then two, then five, and six, and I was still sitting there reading, reflecting, thinking. Diane finally came upstairs to check on me and said, "Gord, are you ok? You look exhausted. Have you been crying?" I was ok, I was exhausted, and I had been crying. After 43 years, a wife comes to know her spouse pretty well so we sat there together while I tried to explain what I was feeling. Damn, I'm a grown man, 65 years old to be exact, but I was visibly shaken and moved by what I had been reading. It was card after card, note after note, words of encouragement from YOU. I clearly don't remember opening most of them when they first arrived as I was busy resting day after day, week after week and month after month.
But I read them yesterday, all of them, and I thank each of you for your words of support and encouragement. I have done so before but not fully knowing the content of your thoughts like I did yesterday. Now I know and I am humbled. Some of you wrote every week, some once in awhile but you all took the time to bolster me and my family in our time of need. I won't even try to mention you all by name. You know who you are. I will, however, quote from one card that captures the essence of what I experienced yesterday. It was written by our former Head Men's Basketball Coach, Jack Margenthaler. He said he had been reading a book given to him by his son Matt, and he thought of me. It was a particular verse, Romans 15:13 to be precise. "May God of hope fill you with all the joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope...if we don't have hope, we have nothing."
I feel today a little like baseball great Lou Gehrig, who said, under very different circumstances, "Today I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Thanks everyone, I believe I am here today, in large part, because of each of you.
My next challenge is to read the blog. I have not read a word of it since Diane and I started writing it on March 23, 2010. I am told by those who have read it that it can be painful at times so I shall find out for myself. It's funny, you write something, send it out, but never have the stamina or courage to read what you have written. I believe that day is at hand for me.
I have been following your postings for about a year, as I was dianosed with BOT cancer last December. My treatment was similar to yours, however I think I may have tolerated the treatment a little better. I am now 9 months out from radiation and chemo and trying to eat by mouth again. My question for you is how are your eating abilities now and what was the progression (time wise)?
ReplyDeletebuster3795, I normally haven't replied to comments on the blog but because we shared the same battle with BOT, I want to answer your questions. I have been out of treatment for 17 months. My wife reminds me that at first progress was hardly that, it was interminably slow. For the first month, I was still "feeding tube only" and it was applesauce and jello at best in the beginning. I kept the feeding tube for almost 6 months after treatment and had it removed at the first of December 2010.
ReplyDeleteTo get where I am today has been a slow process. My taste buds are nothing to brag about but they are getting better. As for food, I can eat anything though I have to be careful about being overconfident. Last night, I got a very small piece of beef lodged in my throat and tonight a small piece of turkey. Now, I won't choke to death when this happens but I either have to find a way to swallow it or go outside and expectorate it.
I don't eat much beef but when I do, it must be cut into baby size pieces and I chew and I chew and I chew and then swallow with water or milk.
I drink a bottle of Ensure every morning and it is funny that while I can eat anything, I can't take pills as they get lodged in my throat. Bottom line--I eat everything but not as easily as before the cancer and certainly not with the taste I once enjoyed. Hope this helps.