Worst. Nights. Ever.


Remember my bad days and really bad days? We can now add worst nights ever. For the past month I have had nightly episodes of violent coughing and chocking.ir-leasing.ru

Having endured over 30 of these seizures I have adapted in the same way I have adapted to the many storms in my life. I’ve survived dozens of life and death experiences. I’m beginning to think I am damn hard to kill.

Each time I have one of these episodes and think this might be it I am reminded of the many times I survived certain death.

Many years ago I was windsurfing on a river in Chile. Much to my peril I did not take into account that the wind was blowing downstream toward the ocean and that there was a mountain on the launch site causing a wind shadow that prevented me from making it back to shore. Dead in the water, I was slowly and painfully being swept out to sea. My only hope was to catch the wind and sail to the opposite shore. This proved to be ineffective and as I was approaching the mouth of the river I decided to swim to the opposite shore. Swimming there without my gear would make matters worse so I broke down my sail and board arriving 30 exhausting minutes later. I was now a mile downstream.

I figured I could shlep all my gear up river, (way up river) rig up, catch the wind, get up a big head of steam and coast right into the launch site. Unfortunately my calculations were a bit off.

Here was the intended formula:
Distance (1.5 miles) shlepping gear upstream, minus down river wind, minus outgoing tide, minus mountain wind shadow, plus big head of steam = safe landing. WRONG! the correct answer is 10 feet from shore and another ride out to sea.

Inasmuch as I was originally ten feet from my destination I could handle the swim back to shore. WRONG AGAIN ! The current and the outgoing tide increased dramatically and in a few short minutes I was once again closing in on the mouth of the river and an angry looking sea.

Here is where the Gods of old age and stupidity had my back once again. Jutting out at the mouth of the river was a short peninsula. The current conveniently deposited me on the shore line, allowing me to hike back to the car, load my gear and make a hasty retreat

Life takes on a new perspective when faced with insurmountable challenges. I hold no illusions that I can beat this disease, but everyday that I wake up is now a good day. There will always be fire in the belly with family and friends continually fanning the flames.

Athough my body is broken, my spirit is stronger than ever. Everyday is a gift which I accept with gratitude. Being terminal does not mean you have to stop living, It only means you have nothing to lose and that you can do anything you put your mind to while realizing that true joy is doing things that people say you shouldn’t be doing.


Comments are closed