A Window into Our World

Amanda had chemo last week. We are hopeful it will be the last time she ever has to do chemo.

At 355mg per round, her dosage is more than double what she was being given over the summer during the initial six weeks of standard of care.

She did great.

She always does great.

This time was her best round at the higher dosage.

It’s strange to use words like “best” when describing chemotherapy treatment, isn’t it?

Best, better… is it cultural? Is it societal? The need to qualify something (best/better) vs accepting something (it is what it is).

When you are focused on hope & healing, best & better are comforting. They feel like measurable progress in the direction you want to go.

They are also a compassionate breath of fresh air – no one wants to see their person feeling sick.

My heart goes out to all who have walked beside their loved ones and have watched them get sick to try and get better.

We do not do much during chemo week.

Meals are essentially the same. As the week goes on, I’ll make them blander to accommodate how she is feeling. This round she sustained her appetite for the first three days. Another “best.”

Days 1 & 2 Amanda was social.

Day one was a full day of running to and from various appointments. She felt great (another qualifier). Looked great. You would not have known she had ingested 355mg of chemotherapy that morning.

Day two was highlighted by a long conversation with her sister. They were still talking when I went to bed.

Day three – five we spent most of the time on the couch rewatching Seasons one & two of Stranger Things (getting prepared for the finale next year).

It was a welcome distraction. She was enjoying the show so much that she thought less about feeling yucky & uncomfortable.

Day six (first day post treatment) was rough. She woke up and immediately threw up. She spent the next few hours trying to sleep through the yuck. The rest of the day was a couch day complete with a “Goonies” rewatch! “Heeeeyyy You Guys!!”

Every morning, we go on a walk. Day one was about four miles. Day five it was about two.

Most mornings we stop & sit on this bench. From here we watch:

Sea lions sunbathe.

Pelicans dive for fish.

Waves crash over the rocks.

Simple things. Small things.

We rarely say more than a few words while sitting here. Words can pollute the moment.

Are we observers watching the world? Or are we participants living our life?

I’ve thought about this a lot.

12 years ago, I was sitting with my friend. We were completing a travel marathon:

30,000 miles in 19 days.

A few years prior, I thought I needed to be doing stuff like that to be:

Enough. Cool. Successful. Etc…

Don’t get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was able to visit some incredible places with some of my best friends.

My friend & I were sitting in a hotel room. I was wearing my “Simpson’s” boxer shorts and a robe that was two sizes too small. We had that kind of relationship: deeply soulful, but not too serious.

Neither of us could sleep. We talked. We laughed. We talked & laughed some more. We ended up arriving to a point in the conversation where we said, “the more you travel, the more you appreciate home.”

“Home,” for both of us, was not just a physical location, it was a feeling. It was a place where we felt safe & loved – a place where we could be fully ourselves (good & bad) no matter what.

Home, in those moments, was sitting there in bathrobes, mine two sizes too small, talking & laughing. Laughing & talking…

We had to travel 30,000 miles in three weeks to figure that out.

Are we observers or are we participants?

Most of my life has been driven by contribution. I want to help people. I passionately want to make the world a better place.

Nothing gives me greater joy than supporting people to live their best lives.

Earlier this week I wept with one of my clients. I am so incredibly proud of her. As we recounted her journey, tears flowed.

My vision for contribution has always been at scale: help one, then dozens, then hundreds, then thousands, then millions…

At this point in my life, I had envisioned myself doing the above, not laying on the couch rewatching Stranger Things or sitting on the same bench every day, watching the waves crash over the rocks.

If we were to die tomorrow…

The above has been used as a litmus test for many of us to determine which path we will travel. When faced with a big choice, run it through the ole “If I were to die tomorrow” examination.

What if it is not about choosing or sacrificing (this or that)? What if it is simply about being?

Being where life is calling you. Being where you need to be. Being where home is for you.

“Carpe Diem,” seize the day, has been my favorite expression for as long as I can remember. I briefly enrolled in Latin during college because of my affinity for the phrase.

I used to view the phrase only as a doer – do all the stuff, see all the sights, have every moment of the day devoted to doing something.

Now I see the phrase as a be-er – be in the moment, be present, be where your feet are, be where you are called to be.

I am learning, daily, that this season of life is about being. Yes, there is some doing, but the core component is the being.

Some may dismiss that. Chronic doers may view being as passive.

On the contrary, I have never been more engaged, in my life, than in my most important moments of being.

Are we observers or participants when we are sitting on the bench, in silence, my arm around Amanda, her head leaning on me, as we watch pelicans’ fish and sealions sunbathe?

In those moments, life is so:

Simple.

Beautiful.

Loving.

Joyous.

Perfect.

Complete.

Enough.

Nothing more is needed.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for continuing on the journey with us.