This week and next, I’m going to dive into the idea of personal responsibility and how get things done when those around you are operating from a place of fear. I thought I’d start by sharing a thought-provoking, kick-in-the-pants story about someone very dear to me, and a major lesson he taught me about the subject.
A little over a year ago, my dad had a round with colon cancer. At the same time he went in, so did someone else I know: same diagnosis, same age, same day for surgery.
While the other guy was out of commission for five weeks, my dad was out of commission for five days. Dad was walking within a week of surgery and back at work a week after that. He’s fine now, has been for some time.
I remember asking him about the quick recovery.
“The way I saw it,” he said, “I had two choices: get living, or get dead. The only thing I didn’t want was to spend any time in the middle, undecided.”
From that point forward, laughter and normalcy became the rule of the day. If he was being a pain in the butt (which he often was, with all that crap the put into his body), I let him know. No secrets, no trying to protect anyone’s feelings, no pity. If he was gonna die, he was gonna die. But he had no intention of spending what was left of his life getting a head start on the process.
He and I argued about whether or not he should tell people he was sick, especially at work. It was hard not to—everyone knew something was up—but the problem was, most people don’t know how to “get living,” and they’re bad influences on people who really do need to stay focused on life. These folks project their own indecision onto others. So they molly-coddly, pity, avoid, worry, and engage in all kinds of unproductive behaviors that generate sad, negative emotions.
What a waste.
So to some extent, I became a sweeper. When people would find out what was going on, I would tell them how wonderful denial was and encourage them to try it.
Then I’d avoid them as best I could.
But the fact is, I wasn’t in denial, and neither was my old man. We were in a place where we were gravely aware of what could be, but at the same time, able to compartmentalize that reality. I heard him describing the duality to a friend of his recently who was scheduled for a round of similar poison therapy as he had had. “You will have good days and bad days. You have to accept the bad and deal with it head on. Don’t fight it, and don’t ignore it. But don’t dwell on it, either. When you’re feeling good, go play golf, take a walk. Call your friends and go for dinner. You’ll die soon enough. Don’t be in such a hurry that you start spending your good days practicing.”
My old man is still here, and hopefully will be for a long, long time to come. I love him immensely and am not ready to see him go. But I know the score. It’s the same for all of us: getting dead is mandatory.
Living, on the other hand, is a conscious choice.
