(see part one here)
“A wise man should consider that health is the greatest of human blessings, and learn how by his own thought to derive benefit from his illnesses.” —Hippocrates
I am not one to often quote ancient Greek physicians, even after 4 years of Latin that I’ve entirely forgotten, but Hippocrates had a point. And perhaps this is why canes make people sad (see part one’s “minor generalizations” for details). Maybe it reminds them that all is not what it seems and to never take even the most insignificant things (like walking) for granted. Jeez, I know I don’t!
My physical cane is a minor part of the everyday reality of dealing with some pretty nasty stuff. It sits in a corner of the bedroom, and comes into plain view rarely, not unlike my proverbial cane. It’s the stuff no one sees, really ever, until things have gotten downright awful. But honestly, on average, it isn’t so bad — and who doesn’t deal with difficult things on a day-to-day basis? I like to consider Edvard Munch, whom you know him as The Scream artist, but I think of as the Norwegian guy who knew a whole lot about being sick and once said, “Without fear and illness, my life would have been a boat without a rudder.”
This week, in honor of one of my projects and with the help of an extraordinary team, we were able to put 45 more people into the bone marrow registry (34 in person and 11 more by mail). In light of all that is happening in the world, this seems Lilliputian. A literal drop in the bucket. But it makes me so happy to know that if someone like me — or someone entirely unlike me — needs a marrow or stem cell transplant, they now have 45 more chances to find a match. And with my fiancé’s and brother John & Jeff’s birthday presents of registering for the bone marrow registry, that makes 48. And how cool is that?
That feels way more like a rudder and less like a cane, but then again I’ve always been more comfortable with Piscean analogies.
