It has only been five weeks since my first radiation treatment and, in what feels like the blink of an eye, my last treatment is two days away. In this case, both the first and last were defined, as known points, bookending this particular phase of my life and cancer treatment. What would happen between those book bookends was the unknown. Now, those chapters of the story have been written and, in those chapters, I feel a balance. There have been some low points, to be sure. But there have also been some amazing moments for which I am incredibly grateful. Things I was afraid of never came to pass or weren’t as bad as I thought they might be. Things I was looking forward to didn’t happen. Unexpected bright spots softened the pain of the particularly rough days. Feelings of loneliness and isolation melted away with every text message, phone call, and visit from friends and family. Powerlessness has shifted to confidence with every treatment and appointment completed. And fear, rooted in the unknown, has been replaced by knowledge and experiences that have strengthened me and, as I tell my kids, built character.
Firsts and lasts are funny things, celebrated if they’re known or anticipated, often lamented if they pass unacknowledged. The significance of some firsts is more obvious, like the first time you hold your newborn child, the first day of school or a new job, or a first kiss. Some other firsts that might not seem as important at the time. In that moment, you might not give it a second thought the first time you meet someone who becomes a best friend, the first job that kickstarts a career, or the first class with a teacher who challenges you and inspires you to follow your dreams.
Lasts might be anticipated, too, like the last day of work before retirement, the last day of school before summer vacation, or the last day of radiation. But too often, lasts come and go and you may never know until it’s too late. You don’t know if it’s the last time you spend a holiday with a loved one or the last time you grab a beer with a good friend. You won’t know if it’s the last time you hear, or maybe more importantly tell someone, “I love you”.
Seneca, an ancient Stoic philosopher, said “Life is long if you know how to use it.” Choose to make the life you are given long and full. Make each day special. Make it count because quality is more important than quantity. Take a minute to slow down and savor life. Appreciate the beauty of a tiny, yellow, glacier lily next to a snowbank or a sunset painting the sky vermillion and orange. Spend time with someone who matters to you. Actively seek joy and relish moments of contentment. Say “I love you,” and mean it with every fiber of your being. Take nothing for granted, be the best version of yourself, and outlive the bastards.
"One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am - a reluctant enthusiast....a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards."
Edward Abbey
Flight of the Raven 