Life Lessons

Fourteen years ago, my life changed. A lot. And, I think, for the better.

That's the year I was first diagnosed as being bipolar. After that, I had a basal cell cancer removed from my left cheek, just under my eye. That was traumatic: I was surprised how weirded out I was that they were going to cut my face. But shortly after that, I found a melanoma on my left arm.

During the time when I thought I was dying faster than usual -- because, of course, we are all dying, all the time -- I decided I'd better reevaluate my life and what I was doing with it. By the time I found out the melanoma could be dealt with surgically, I had decided to leave my career and the city and to return to Sewanee, Tennessee, to help care for an elderly lady who was one of my dearest friends in the world.

I had come to the conclusion that never again would I work for the money, nor would I keep a job because I thought I had to do it. As soon as my work became miserable, I'd walk away.

I've done that, more than once.

And somehow I also ended up marrying a long-lost high school sweetheart and moving to the farthest ends of the earth: Alaska. We've had some ups and downs, some great happiness and some devastating disasters. Sometimes our marriage hangs by a thread; other times it is the cable that holds both our lives together.

Somewhere along the line I think I must have forgotton some of those lessons I thought I'd learned at the feet of Master Cancer. I can remember the joy I felt when I realized it didn't matter how long I had to live: It only mattered that I spend my time well and, as much as possible, happily. But I haven't felt that joy -- or serenity -- in a long time now.

So I guess it should be no surpise that I learned yesterday that I have melanoma again. So far all I know is that it's in a spot on top of my head. I'll fly back to Anchorage Monday to see the dermatologist again to discuss excision and treatment.

I was in shock when I got the call yesterday morning, and I also was surprised at how afraid I felt immediately afterwards. Oddly, I had fully expected to be told I had another aggressive basal cell cancer that would require Mohs surgery (as I had in March), but melanoma had never crossed my mind. And apparently the doc was as surprised as I was.

I've been sick with some horrible crud since August 3rd, unreasonably exhausted and have had a hard time working because of pain in my hands, so of course I immediately began wondering if all of this is related. But it does no good to speculate about that. Best to wait until there are some facts to go on, no?

I still alternate between cold fear and tears, but now I'm beginning to feel some of the pools of peace I remember from the first time around. It's amazing how simple life becomes when you realize that most of the things you obsess about are pointless wasters of time and energy, and that the really important things aren't that difficult to figure out.

Now, let's hope that I remember enough of my lessons from 14 years ago that it isn't too hard to cope with the new ones coming my way.