While the Holidays Approach
Time continues to tick away. Tick tock. Tick tock...tick...tock...tick...
It seems everyone is busy at this time of year. Many of us are too busy to stop and enjoy the little things in life. I've been there, rushing and racing on that endless wheel, getting no where. Racing to meet deadlines now. Prior to this, I raced to meet the demands of the Corporate World. What a rat race that was!
Now, I've vowed to slow down - to enjoy the simplicity of life. After all, life is short. Every day we are hopeful to awaken to a 'brand new day.' While rushing to work, we meet the challenges, anticipating just a little more get up and go, or just a little more working until the dark of night, or -- just a little more -- until one day, or perhaps one night, something changes.
For me, it was the holidays of 1997 - I was trapped in a rat race of time at a university. Anxious and hopeful to make an impression, meet my goals and succeed. My job had become my career -- my life, until my dad phoned late one night stating that he wasn't feeling well and he thought he had cancer.
Just what was I thinking at that time? When he shared those observations about his health, I suppose I thought he was immune to illness. After all, he was my father. Nothing in life harmed him. He was the tower of strength. Never sick, never weak, and at 82 years of age, he still had a sharp mind and witty charm.
The next day I called in to work and visited with my dad at the E-R of Roper Hospital in Charleston, SC. I comforted dad when he grew irritated, telling him we would know something soon. I was convinced that the only thing wrong with him was an improper diet. My father lived in a retirement community, on a fixed income. He purchased only what he could afford to eat, and he was too independent and proud to accept money from me. On occasions when I offered him money, he threw it back at me. Nevertheless, when I baked goodies, or shared a casserole, he was thrilled to have something baked from home. Dad was a proud and stubborn man, and I am just like him!
After too many hours of waiting in E-R, the doctors informed us that Dad was being released. We were encouraged to make an appointment with a gastroenterologist.
December 1997 - Dad was scheduled to have an endoscopy. Convinced that he was not ill, I drove him to the hospital. For hours I sat, all alone. Cell phone turned off since the hospital did not allow cell phones. In the late afternoon, I watched Dad's doctor approaching me. His shoulders were slumped. The vacant stare in his eyes told me more than I wanted to know. I remember hearing the dreaded, poisonous word "cancer," and I remember screaming.
Later, the doctors asked me what I wanted them to do. I let them know that this was not my decision, and whatever he decided, I would support my dad's decision.
Esophageal cancer is dreadful. Dad endured many days without the ability to eat or drink. He weighed only 110 pounds and was melting away. Finally, the decision was made. I visited daily, feeling as if the hospital was now my home. I sat for hours watching the toxic poison of chemotherapy dripping into my dad's emaciated body. I strove to be strong around Dad. The Atrium at Roper Hospital was my solitude and I spent many hours crying while listening to a waterfall, rush hour traffic and the rat race of life. I could not allow my emotions to crumble around my dad. I had to be strong -- just like him.
For two years, I watched Dad battle cancer, while he taught me how to forgive and to move forward with life. For two years, I bonded closer with him and my life is stronger and better because of the time we shared. There were times of laughter, and a few tears.
I lost my dad on July 6, 1999 while I was approaching his room for my daily visit. So like him to call the last shots. Earlier in the day I had phoned the nurses' desk at Sandpiper Convalescent Center to see how he was doing. I was told he was fine, laughing and reading his daily newspaper. Isn't it strange how one moment things in life can be fine, then suddenly, just like a quick breath of wind, things change.
Now, seven years later, I am far stronger and a more productive and determined individual for knowing and loving my dad. I cherish the memories we made during his illness. If I could take a step back, before the invasion of cancer in 1997, there are so many things I would change. I would break away from the rat race of Corporate Life and enjoy the little things. But -- I cannot take a step back. Life doesn't rewind. I can move forward and live my life with richness, and much passion and that is what I have vowed to do for the rest of my life. After all, God has given me a talent to write and to share emotions and passions that many people fear.
What would you change if you could break away from the rat race?
Let us all make the time to enjoy the little things in life - the little pleasures like a child giggling with delight. The smile from someone we've never met. Smelling the salt air, or the freshness of life after a rainfall.
Enjoy your life while making the most of life.
I wish you a Happy and Merry Christmas season, and a great 2007!
It seems everyone is busy at this time of year. Many of us are too busy to stop and enjoy the little things in life. I've been there, rushing and racing on that endless wheel, getting no where. Racing to meet deadlines now. Prior to this, I raced to meet the demands of the Corporate World. What a rat race that was!
Now, I've vowed to slow down - to enjoy the simplicity of life. After all, life is short. Every day we are hopeful to awaken to a 'brand new day.' While rushing to work, we meet the challenges, anticipating just a little more get up and go, or just a little more working until the dark of night, or -- just a little more -- until one day, or perhaps one night, something changes.
For me, it was the holidays of 1997 - I was trapped in a rat race of time at a university. Anxious and hopeful to make an impression, meet my goals and succeed. My job had become my career -- my life, until my dad phoned late one night stating that he wasn't feeling well and he thought he had cancer.
Just what was I thinking at that time? When he shared those observations about his health, I suppose I thought he was immune to illness. After all, he was my father. Nothing in life harmed him. He was the tower of strength. Never sick, never weak, and at 82 years of age, he still had a sharp mind and witty charm.
The next day I called in to work and visited with my dad at the E-R of Roper Hospital in Charleston, SC. I comforted dad when he grew irritated, telling him we would know something soon. I was convinced that the only thing wrong with him was an improper diet. My father lived in a retirement community, on a fixed income. He purchased only what he could afford to eat, and he was too independent and proud to accept money from me. On occasions when I offered him money, he threw it back at me. Nevertheless, when I baked goodies, or shared a casserole, he was thrilled to have something baked from home. Dad was a proud and stubborn man, and I am just like him!
After too many hours of waiting in E-R, the doctors informed us that Dad was being released. We were encouraged to make an appointment with a gastroenterologist.
December 1997 - Dad was scheduled to have an endoscopy. Convinced that he was not ill, I drove him to the hospital. For hours I sat, all alone. Cell phone turned off since the hospital did not allow cell phones. In the late afternoon, I watched Dad's doctor approaching me. His shoulders were slumped. The vacant stare in his eyes told me more than I wanted to know. I remember hearing the dreaded, poisonous word "cancer," and I remember screaming.
Later, the doctors asked me what I wanted them to do. I let them know that this was not my decision, and whatever he decided, I would support my dad's decision.
Esophageal cancer is dreadful. Dad endured many days without the ability to eat or drink. He weighed only 110 pounds and was melting away. Finally, the decision was made. I visited daily, feeling as if the hospital was now my home. I sat for hours watching the toxic poison of chemotherapy dripping into my dad's emaciated body. I strove to be strong around Dad. The Atrium at Roper Hospital was my solitude and I spent many hours crying while listening to a waterfall, rush hour traffic and the rat race of life. I could not allow my emotions to crumble around my dad. I had to be strong -- just like him.
For two years, I watched Dad battle cancer, while he taught me how to forgive and to move forward with life. For two years, I bonded closer with him and my life is stronger and better because of the time we shared. There were times of laughter, and a few tears.
I lost my dad on July 6, 1999 while I was approaching his room for my daily visit. So like him to call the last shots. Earlier in the day I had phoned the nurses' desk at Sandpiper Convalescent Center to see how he was doing. I was told he was fine, laughing and reading his daily newspaper. Isn't it strange how one moment things in life can be fine, then suddenly, just like a quick breath of wind, things change.
Now, seven years later, I am far stronger and a more productive and determined individual for knowing and loving my dad. I cherish the memories we made during his illness. If I could take a step back, before the invasion of cancer in 1997, there are so many things I would change. I would break away from the rat race of Corporate Life and enjoy the little things. But -- I cannot take a step back. Life doesn't rewind. I can move forward and live my life with richness, and much passion and that is what I have vowed to do for the rest of my life. After all, God has given me a talent to write and to share emotions and passions that many people fear.
What would you change if you could break away from the rat race?
Let us all make the time to enjoy the little things in life - the little pleasures like a child giggling with delight. The smile from someone we've never met. Smelling the salt air, or the freshness of life after a rainfall.
Enjoy your life while making the most of life.
I wish you a Happy and Merry Christmas season, and a great 2007!
posted by Barbie Perkins-Cooper at 12:26 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home