When Hubby was diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer—because he was relatively young and in good shape—they gave him two years. So what do you do when you’re told, “Maybe two years of life left”?
The truth is, no one knows how much time he/she has. Cancer or not. So maybe the question ought to be: “Given that none of us are going to live forever, how, then, should we live?”
Photo credit: Pixabay
With the how then should we live question in mind, here are 4 thoughts:
1. Do the no-brainer stuff. Love better. Stay connected. Write more thank-you notes. Forgive that person you should have forgiven long ago. Speak words of encouragement. Tip well. Live gratefully in the present.
2. Start checking things off your Bucket List. Visit the old homestead your grandparents farmed where you spent childhood summers. Take a road trip through all the national parks (there are 58, so you should probably get started). Cruise Alaska’s inland passage.
A few years back, Hubby and I had enough saved for a 25th anniversary Alaskan cruise. I mentioned to our daughter — away at college at the time — that we were thinking about getting a much-needed computer instead of doing the cruise. “Mom,” she said in a rather firm tone. “You’re going on the cruise.” Where do you think our 1998 computer would be at this very moment had we gone the more practical route? And where do you think the Alaskan adventure is? In my heart. Irreplaceable memories with Hubby in the beautiful land called Alaska.
3. Consider some charitable goals. Hubby and I instinctively knew that if we could give back in some capacity, it would help make sense of this senseless diagnosis. One of the things we did was train to offer peer support to others dealing with cancer. There are numerous volunteer opportunities where your time and the sharing of your expertise can truly make a difference in the lives of others.
4. Make healthful lifestyle changes. Add more physical activity to your days. Manage stress wisely. Eat your fruits and veggies. I like the 80/20 rule that the registered dietician in the cancer center encouraged: “80 per cent of the time, eat healthfully.” The other 20 percent of the time, go ahead and have that piece of pizza after your son’s basketball game, that cupcake at your grandkid’s birthday party. (I may or may not have had two pieces of pie this Thanksgiving Day.)
And to illustrate that living fully doesn’t have to cost much — Hubby was on a treatment that caused osteoporosis. We started pounding the neighborhood pavement to strengthen his bones. And then we took on the nearby wilderness trails. Hiking and snow-shoeing. The cost: $25 annual sno-park permit and $30 annual wilderness pass per vehicle. Which, with only two of us in the vehicle, equated to 53 cents per person per week for unlimited year-round recreation and fun. Not to mention the producing of all those good endorphins.
Obviously, those who have been told their days are numbered are in different stages of health. Which means some of these points may seem moot. But remember the two years predicted for Hubby? He lived ten years with metastatic disease. Ten years.
In case you were wondering, it was President Abraham Lincoln who instituted this national day for expressing gratitude — and eating pie — the last Thursday of each November.
I’m thinking the expressing of gratefulness shouldn’t be relegated to one day a year; it ought to be a year-round sport. This Thanksgiving feast. These in-laws. This reminder to live gratefully while there is life.
How about you? Who can you love better starting today? Who do you need to forgive? What’s on your Bucket List? Why wait until you’re dying to start checking things off?
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