The "C" word

Recently I've been fighting being sucked into a cancer "psyche"--you may recognize the mantras...yet another person, everyone is getting it, who will be next, is it within our control, am I doomed genetically, environmentally, or as a fluke?.... I'm not sure if you share in these fears as much as I do, but cancer has been making itself known as of late in my little ol' life.

On Wednesday, my aunt goes to surgery to remove the cancerous tumor in her breast. All in a month's time it was my aunt, my college roommate, my friend's dad...not to mention the 3 under 30 crowd of the past 3 years (one has survived). It's crazy yet so ordinary nowadays. My aunt commented on how every person with whom she speaks about it mentions a close friend or relative going through treatments right now.

I came across a beautiful blog while perusing the headlines on cnn.com. It's written by a teenager currently fighting a rare pediatric cancer. Now, I can't even remember caring about what I was eating for lunch during those tumultous years, but this guy is a modern-day Thoreau. He writes beautifully and is wise beyond his young years. You can check it out yourself on carepages.com (register then search for Levinstory). I recommend reversing the posts (there's an option for this).

Until then...here's one of his first posts, shortly after his diagnosis (I think he was 15!):

I went to the driving range the other day and I was thinking... I was thinking how you start out with a big bucket full of golf balls, and you just start hitting away carelessly. You have dozens of them, each individual ball means nothing so you just hit, hit, hit. One ball gone is practically inconsequential when subtracted from your bottomless bucket. There are no practice swings or technique re-evaluations after a bad shot, because so many more tries remain. Yet eventually you start to have to reach down towards the bottom of the bucket to scavenge for another shot and you realize that tries are running out. Now with just a handful left, each swing becomes more meaningful. The right technique becomes more crucial, so between each shot you take a couple practice swings and a few deep breaths. There is a very strong need to end on a good note, even if every preceeding shot was horrible, getting it right at the end means a lot. You know as you tee up your last ball, "This is my final shot, I want to crush this with perfection; I must make this count." Limited quantities or limited time brings a new, precious value and signficance to anything you do. Live every day shooting as if its your last shot, I know I have to.