HERMAN CA...N

I'm not saying anything about politics.  Heaven knows I have my opinions, but I'm going to spare everyone from those.  But here's what I do want to say.  I really like Herman Cain.  I want to meet him.  I want to have lunch with him and hang out for the afternoon.  I don't care what we talk about, so long as we hit on his time as CEO of the pizza place and having cancer.  He says things like, "That dog won't hunt."  If he doesn't look like the cat who swallowed the canary when he smiles, no one does.  I love it.

Five years ago, in 2006, Mr. Cain was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer and Stage IV liver cancer.  Can you imagine?  According to WebMD, the 5-year survival rate for Stage IV colon cancer is about 8%.  http://www.webmd.com/colorectal-cancer/guide/treatment-stage?page= and, with regard to liver cancer, "Advanced liver cancer has no standard curative treatment."  http://www.webmd.com/cancer/understanding-liver-cancer-treatment?page=2  I've heard that when Mr. Cain's doctor told him they would be removing a significant portion of his liver, he is reputed to have asked, "Can I survive with just a sliver of liver?"  Obviously, he did.

So, here's what I want to know from Herman (we're now on a first-name basis):  did he smile like the cat who swallowed the canary before he prevailed over such odds and use phrases like, "That dog won't hunt," when he was discussing treatment alternatives with his doctors?  Or did grasping a one out of 12 chance to live somehow infuse some "happy" into him?  I mean, I don't know if I could do that.  Of course, if I think I cannot, then there's a good chance (better than 1 out of 12) that I won't.  Even if I say I will try, I'm painting a bleak picture for success.  In the words of the great Jedi knight, Yoda, "No! Do or do not. There is no try."  So I'm guessing Herman just picked himself up and said, "I'm going to beat this cancer," and he did it with that smile of the cat who ate the canary.

So here's what this tells me.  If I want to go on with life and figure out what I can do so that I'm not constantly focused on my Parkinson's, I have to get off my bottom and take affirmative action to do it.  I get that.  The problem is knowing what "that" is.  For me, I substitute teach.  In fact, right now, I'm sitting in Honors Algebra.  And I write.  In fact, I doing that right now while I'm substitute teaching.  I'm having trouble figuring out if there's anything else I want to do.  I have some things in which I'm involved, but they don't make me happy like subbing and writing do.  So I don't know if I'll keep doing them or not.  In the meantime, I will continue subbing and I will continue writing and I will capitalize on the "happy" I experience from them.

 Happy hunting!

G 

P.S.  Look over at the right side of this page. There's a short poll on today's topic.  Take a minute and vote!  Thanks! 
  

The Gambler

Remember that Kenny Rogers song The Gambler?  "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em; know when to walk away, know when to stay. You never count your [winnings/money?] when you're sittin' at the table; there'll be time enough for countin' when the dealing's done."

Well, today I'm applying that to talkin' - er talking.  I don't have anything to say that's worth saying.  BUT, I do have something to ponder.  Take a look at the article on the other side of this link.

http://www.michaeljfox.org/podcaststranscripts/Depression.pdf.   

It discusses the connection between depression and Parkinson's.  In a thumbnail summary, it identifies depression as one of the major symptoms of Parkinson's - not a byproduct, as many people might think.

The person being interviewed in this script raises a good question.  Why are people who suffer from depression associated with their Parkinson's so disinclined to reveal they suffer from depression, but have no hesitation in admitting they have Parkinson's?
 
Each person who suffers from depression has his or her own reason for disclosing he or she suffers from depression.  I suppose one of the most obvious is stigma.  Do you suffer from depression?  Why would you be willing to disclose or not disclose your depression?  Would you disclose to anyone or perhaps just your closest friends?  I've taken the gamble.  I've disclosed my depression and bipolar disorder in a big way, but I don't know the results yet.  I'll let you know when next we meet.


Happy thinking.


G
 

PEACE, MAYBE

.

I keep a journal.  It's not fancy - just a medium-sized spiral-bound notebook.  Usually, I record what I'm thinking.  Usually, it's something that frustrated me that day.  That helps to externalize it - push it away from me.  There's a recurring theme in my journal - how do I strengthen my spiritual internal self.

Last year, at just about this time, I took a personal retreat.  I reserved a cabin in Townsend, Tennessee.  Townsend is known as the "quiet side of the Smokies," and that it was.  Only one or two fast food places.   No shopping.  No movie theater. No tourist attractions.  In fact, when I was talking to the person who met me at my cabin, I asked her if Townsend was just a little farther down the road.  She chuckled and said, "Oh, no.  This is it.  You're here."

What's important is what I didn't take with me: a computer, an iPod; in other words, nothing electronic that would shout at me for the week.  As soon as I backed out of the driveway, I turned off my car radio/CD player and I drove from Lexington to Townsend in silence.  It was wonderful.   When I arrived in my cabin, I unplugged the TV and pushed the radio to the back of the refrigerator top.  I did take my phone, but advised people that I would check text messages only once - at the end of the day.  And I stuck to that promise.


Townsend is at the entrance to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.  Each day, I woke at around 6:00.  I didn't set an alarm - it just happened that way.  I read for a bit on the screened-in back porch.  It was spirit-driven reading - I opened my Bible to Luke, closed my eyes, turned to a page and put my finger on a verse.  I read the verse over and over - slowly, and then thought about what it was saying.  Afterwards, I ate breakfast, got dressed for the day, and headed out to the Park.  I drove.  I walked.  I sat.  I even fell in a creek and hurt my wrist.  (I'd like to think that was a slippery rock and not Parkinson's.)   More days than not, I didn't talk to anyone for the entire day.  But what I did do, especially while sitting and staring into a creek, was contemplate what that passage from Luke meant for me. Amazingly, I managed to stay away from thinking about "why me?".  Why am I bipolar and have Parkinson's?  The answer didn't matter.  It was my intent to try to hear what Luke was saying about the here and now - not about what happened a couple of years ago.  

After a full day in the Park, I headed back to my cabin for dinner and some light fictional reading.  I went to bed around 10:00 and as I went to sleep, thought some more about what I could take from that morning's reading.  The next morning, I got up and did it again.

My last day in the Park.

I can't say that  I had any type of life-changing revelation while I was there.  I didn't find permanent inner peace.  I'm glad I didn't set my exceptions that high.  What I can say is that this introvert found a way to get calm for a few days and minimize the daily assaults on her brain.  I had to respond to no one's needs other than my own.  Doing so next to rippling water quieted me.  Of course, I took my journal with me  - and I'm pleased to report two things.  First, there was a difference for the better in the tone of the entries while I was in Townsend.  Second, going back and rereading those entries brings and looking at pictures I took while I was there lets me relive a little peace, if only for a moment.  I believe I will plan a return trip just as soon as I can.


Peace.
Gayle