Life is Wondrous

No matter the trials and tribulations of living in this chaotic world, the lyrics of some songs can boost one’s mood dramatically. The chorus from a Keb’ Mo’ song, Life is Beautiful, tends to do that for me:

Life is beautiful, life is wondrous
Every star above is shining just for us
Life is beautiful, on a stormy night
Somewhere in the world the sun is shining bright

Holding onto that attitude can make a vast difference in one’s experience in dealing with challenges and obstacles. The trick, of course, is to keep one’s grip tight enough that it does not slip away.

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My father died, at home, of lung cancer. He was in extreme pain the day he died. Morphine, at the time available by prescription from his family doctor, helped. It only lessened his excruciating pain; it did not make it tolerable—though he had no choice but to tolerate it. His lung cancer was not curable nor was the pain effectively treatable by the time it was diagnosed, roughly forty years ago. When I was first diagnosed with lung cancer in late 2018, I think the hope of the medical team treating me was that my cancer could be cured. The hope for treating the recurrence five years later is to extend my life, not necessarily to cure the cancer. Extended for how long, I wonder? No one can answer the question with any degree of confidence;  it could be decades, it could be months. I’m rooting for the former, but acknowledging the possibility of the latter. I am fortunate in that my treatments, so far, have all been covered by insurance. It pains me to hear patients speaking to the oncology clinic staff about making periodic payments of $100 or $35 or whatever each time they come in. I am sure some patients’ payments are dramatically higher. Looking at my explanation of benefits summaries, the costs of my treatments are astronomical. Mi novia often is tempted to step in to cover someone’s payment, especially when a patient “looks” down on his luck. Were I on the receiving end of such charity, I would be unable to maintain my composure, on one hand, and enraged by the inequities of healthcare access, on the other.

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Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

~ Buddha ~

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Another burst of energy, combined with a hankering for a good hamburger, led us to head out to the recently-reopened Kream Kastle, a burger joint on Highway 70. When we got there, we discovered the place is closed on Tuesdays. Argh! So we headed toward Hot Springs to try Walker’s Wings and Things on Silver Street. On the way, though, I checked Google and discovered Walker’s, too, is closed on Tuesdays. We then decided to try Superior Bathhouse Brewery, but before we got there, Google informed me that Superior is closed on Tuesdays. Despite the frustration, we thought “No worries,” let’s go to the Copper Penney. Nope. Closed on Tuesdays. Just moments before succumbing to starvation, we found that Rocky’s Corner is open seven days a week. And Rocky’s cooks burgers to order: I asked for medium-rare and that’s what I got. Every time I go to Rocky’s, I become more enamored with the place. It’s a true neighborhood sports bar & grille, with the sports emphasis being on horse-racing (logical, considering that Oaklawn racetrack is right across the street). The staff members are friendly and the food is good. I could do without the horse-racing focus, but otherwise the spot exudes Third Place vibes. Yesterday, several tables of old retired men—wearing sandals and shorts and t-shirts adorned with slogans—chatted amiably, ignoring the TV racing channels. A group of four guys sitting near us traded favorable comments about Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. By the time we got back home, my burst of energy had fizzled. I took a long nap, waking just in time to catch the evening news and then to continue watching Shetland. Occasionally getting out of the house for something other than medical appointments keeps me moderately sane. Watching a television program set in the Shetland Islands makes me want to relocate to Lerwick and environs.

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