As I grew older, birthdays became ho hum. I carried on with
the busy events of making a living, raising a family, and accepted the ubiquitous
“Happy birthday, Len!” greetings unemotionally.
There were more gifts and cards, but I accepted birthdays as just
another sign of growing older – another notch on the chronological pole. But
something happened in 2007. I was diagnosed
with nasopharyngeal cancer – a bolt out of the blue. For a person who enjoyed remarkably good
health, I often regarded the gift of life as a just reward for my religious moorings,
living a fairly healthy lifestyle, and staying out of trouble. I was the one who exercised relatively, had
good eating habits and regular exercise, and one who never drank alcohol or
smoked, I was a statistical outlier. But
illnesses don’t always follow the statistical lines. That isn’t to say that healthy habits are to
be avoided. However, after a very
difficult experience through surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, I have
returned to good health. Despite the ill effects of radiation and chemo, I am
back to normal health doing most of the things I enjoy.
So how has life changed?
Birthdays are celebrations of life and living. Gifts and parties don’t really matter as much,
and I don’t really care if anyone forgets (or remembers) my birthday. But most of the people I know remember and celebrate
with me. Living through the difficult days
of treatment and recovery has created a special shrine of hope that is worthy
of a celebration of smiles, high fives and reminiscences. It was a journey I took with my wife and
children, my parents and siblings, and some special friends who walked the dark
way with me. So birthdays are special in
a way no other day is special. It reminds
me that life is a gift. It is a gift meant to be shared with those I love and
everyone else. It is an opportunity to treasure
the many blessings of life that I previously took for granted. Since my return to health I have devoted my
hobby of road biking to raising money for the American Diabetes Association’s
fight for a cure of diabetes, a devastating metabolic disease that affects
increasingly millions of people. The 100
mile ride on March 17, 2013 will be my third Tour de Cure. Over the last three years, my friends have
supported my efforts by donating over $10,000 towards this cause, but nothing
gives me greater pleasure than my heart’s smile as I pedal along knowing that
the lease of life I now enjoy is a privilege far beyond words. Life is to be enjoyed to the fullest and time
to be spent sharing with others, enjoying the grand children, smelling the cut
grass, watching the clouds drift by, or marveling at the limitless blue sky. Every year, March 1 reminds me that life is
special gift.
[1] This
post is dedicated to my wife, Nichole, the love of my life; my two children,
Lilly and Nicholas and their spouses; my two grandsons, Chris and Caleb; and my
loving parents, Henry and Millicent Archer, 95 and 91 respectively, who taught
me what true living is all about.
