A Time to Look Back

In a few hours, 2017 comes to an end and a new year, 2018, will be ushered in with fanfare. Already, several countries around the world have showcased extravagant New Year celebrations. Millions of people across the world from Austria to Australia, China to Chile will celebrate with fireworks and parties, the exuberance of a new beginning.  It’s good to put the past behind and look forward to the possibilities and expectations of a new year.  However, before we move on, I would like to take a last review of what 2017 was for me.

Looking back one can find moments of joys and sorrows, moments of exhilaration and times of foreboding, moments of ecstasy followed by times of grief. That’s typical for any year, but 2017 was particularly noteworthy for those emotional swings. Here are a few of those encounters which are etched in my memory.

 In April, I celebrated the ten year anniversary of my diagnosis with nasopharyngeal cancer. But within a few days, I was informed by dermatologist that a suspicious nodule removed from my inner left leg had tested positive for angiosarcoma. After requesting a second opinion, it was confirmed that the initial diagnosis was correct and I now faced a protocol that would include surgery to remove a larger swath of tissue from the offending area followed by six weeks (30 sessions) of radiation therapy. The first attempt of surgery was suspended after anesthesia was administered because the doctors encounter difficulty performing an intubation as a result of the traumatized and scarred oropharyngeal pathway from treatment 10:years prior.

After a second successful attempt at surgery, and before the radiation began, I received the sad news that my 95 year old mother was hospitalized. She had suffered a fall, which by itself appeared innocuous. However, accompanied by suspected pneumonia, she quickly declined and passed away on September 29. I postponed the start of my radiology treatment to travel to Tobago, where along with my siblings and scores of relatives and friends, we were privileged to pay tribute to our dear mother as she was laid to rest on October 8.

I completed my radiation therapy on November 29. It was also the day on which my wife, Nichole had surgery for a seriously torn rotator cuff and biceps muscle. We were both incapacitated for several weeks - she, painfully enduring the post-op pain, and I, hobbling with the raw deteriorating skin as a result of six weeks of radiation. 

As we both improved, we received news that my now widowed, 99 year old Dad had experienced several falls. As his muscles wear weak and his sight fails, he finds it more difficult to keep his balance. But old habits and manly ways along with the tendency to suppress his desire to be active lends to the habit of perhaps taking too many risks that a 99 year old should avoid. The mild bruises and short hospital stays nonetheless, he carries on towards the landmark of one hundred years.

As Christmas approached, we received news that our older brother was admitted to the Scarborough General Hospital in our island home, Tobago. He had experienced several hospitalizations over the last few months and this time appeared ominous. The new year will begin with him clinging to life after being medivaced to the larger and better equipped  San Fernando General Hospital on the larger sister island of Trinidad as he tenuously clings to life.

What a year! Despite the foreboding of Junior’s health, hope springs eternal and every day, every year, bears promises of love and laughter amid the pain, sorrow and hurts that are a natural part of living on this earth. I am grateful for a loving, caring wife, two devoted children, three wonderful grandchildren and blessings too numerous to count.  I look forward to the Centennial celebration of our dad, Henry - his 100th birthday. What a celebration that would be!  “For everything there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth:”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1‬ ‭NET‬‬

http://bible.com/107/ecc.3.1.net

Love and blessings, always!

The Meaning of Birthdays

Birthdays are important days.[1]  At least that’s what most people think.  As a child, my birthday was rewarded with a special meal from my mother – maybe my favorite, and sometimes a special homemade birthday cake.  Mama, my grandmother, would often prepare something special as well, and invite me over.  There were no parties, cards, special gifts or toys.  That would be for Christmas.  But even then, the best thing about birthdays was that the food was especially good.  Growing up in a poor family on the Caribbean island of Tobago, life was centered on hard work, diligence in our studies at school, and faith in God.  But at birthday time, we received the reinforcement that we were special, we were loved and God loved us.

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.

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[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.