Is Survival Enough - Redux

A couple of days ago, I blogged about surviving cancer. You may want to read that for context.

My post the other day was a partial answer. There is so much more to surviving (and wanting to survive) cancer than simply wanting to live. It is so simple to say, it is so much more complicated to explain.

I've had more than one experience to remind me that I'm meat.

In the summer of 2010, I had my own, non-cancer, near death experience. No, I wasn't eaten by a lion. I did have a terrific bicycle accident - landed on my head and shattered my collarbone. Despite having my brain's reset button pressed, I can recall every detail of those moments vividly (Thank you, helmet). The most striking memories that stand out are my reactions to the situation.

After I came to a rest and the world got quiet, I remember thinking, "I'm laying in the middle of the street. I can't move. I sure hope a car doesn't hit me. Oh, well, nothing I can do." Then, I cracked open my left eye and saw someone walking past me talking on a cellphone. I thought, "Hmmm, perhaps that man will protect me." I then shut my eye and laid there cooking on the hot, June asphalt just like the meat I was.

After a bit, I did a quick check running through my body parts to see which ones still worked and which ones didn't. Hands and fingers, check. Wrists, check. Feet and ankles, check. What's that bright shining pain in my left shoulder. Ouch! That cannot be good. Pain too much, need to turn over, someone please pull the bike away from me, bones grind and crunch in my shoulder, I don't like that sound - nope definitely not good.

Some time later the man told me he called an ambulance and asked would I want him to call someone. Only then did I remember I had a wife. Somehow, I rattled off a string of digits, and all I could think about was how upset she would be with me because I ruined her hike with her friends. Then, I remembered I had children. I didn't see faces, only silhouettes. When I remembered they weren't grown up, the silhouettes shrunk into kids and I thought how upset they would be that their daddy was hurt. I recalled I had parents and made a note that I had to call them before the day was over, they would be worried about me and upset if I didn't tell them right away. I remembered my brother and his family and knew I would have to call him, too. This was all before the police officer arrived and asked me for my name. "Hey, I think I have a name!"

There's a point, here, and I'll circle back to it, soon.

This morning, I went out for a run and saw a friend. He told me he had found out his daughter died. 26 years old. Very sad and I feel for him. We discussed how he found out, how she died and, most important, his memories of her. One memory he shared was of a time when he visited her at her mother's house, and she showed him her closet and how neat and organized it was.

And, that is my point about wanting more than just to be alive. Simply living isn't enough.

It's about being there for other people. It's the being there that matters most to them, and therefore, to you. When I was laying on that road surface, living wasn't even a concern of mine. I might as well have been a leaf on a stream. Only when I remembered I had loved ones, only then did I have concerns and those concerns were for them and their feelings. Of a lifetime of memories my friend could share, he chose to tell me about his daughter proudly showing him her closet. Why? Because he was proud of her, too, and she knew it.

If I don't live, then who will be there to watch my kids graduate high school and college. If I don't live, their lives will be diminished because dad was not there to pat them on the back say "Great game!" or "Good job on that paper." They will not have me there when they make their own way into the world or marry the person they love or have families of their own. I want to live so that my wife will have me to share her joy and sadness with. I don't want to think about the hole I will leave behind in the lives of those I love.

They make me who I am. Their eyes light me - enlighten me. And, I lighten them.

This is more than just surviving, this is more than just being alive.

I want to live.