August 24, 2024

        When I started writing blog posts over a year and a half ago, I said that I wouldn’t write just to write.  Something had to move me, especially after the immediacy of writing to keep you updated was no longer an issue.
        For the first time in about four months I felt moved to write a blog.  I am scheduled to return to Mayo Clinic in five weeks for a six-month follow up with my hematologist.  Maybe that being on my mind was the catalyst for me to write. 
        For those of you who don’t see me often or maybe never, I have been doing as well as I could ever have hoped.  In April the chemotherapy treatments were reduced from four a month to just one a month, the one that is the most significant.
        Most of the time I feel relatively normal and I have resumed most of my typical lifestyle, though I do require a bit more sleep.
        I was moved this evening to write.  You’d never guess where it happened.  In our above ground swimming pool.
        I have tried to swim every chance that I have had this summer.  I can’t ride a bike or jog because of the cancer surgery on my leg over 20 years ago.  I’ve loved to swim since I was a kid. 
        I must admit that today was a challenge.  The cool days and even cooler nights the last 3-4 days curtailed my swimming.  I did swim once in the spa, but it’s just not the same.
        The weather warmed back up today (Friday) in Kentucky and I thought that I’d give it a shot.  I had pulled back the solar blanket earlier, hoping that the sun might warm the water a bit.
        When I stepped down the ladder, I gasped and then looked at the pool thermometer.  The water temperature has to be 80 degrees before I am willing to endure it.  The thermometer registered a balmy 80.5 degrees.  I finally took a deep breath and plunged in. 
        Some observations:
1. The Lord willing and I am still alive next summer, we might just splurge for a pool heater.
2. Bart, the cordless pool vacuum, didn’t seem to mind the cold water.
3. Apparently, I haven’t lost my competitive edge.  I can swim faster than Bart. 
4. Teresa didn’t consider a dip in the pool.
5. Today’s swim was the quickest that I have hit my target distance all summer.   I guess that there was some incentive.
 
        Let’s try to find some redeeming value in this blog.
 
        I swim for lots of reasons.  Beyond enjoying swimming, I swim for my health.  I have returned to a pretty active lifestyle but mowing the grass or working in our business doesn’t give me the exercise that I need.  Swimming is simply a different kind of exercise.  I swim to try to lower my blood pressure and lower my heart rate.
 
        And let’s face it, I swim to try to get in shape and lose some weight. 
 
        Most of you know that I have been “husky” all my life.  When I was a kid I actually wore clothes that were called husky.  That does a lot for a 13-year-old’s self-image.
 
        Though I am called to be a pastor, I am no different than any of you.  I am tempted like everyone else and deal with all the feelings that are a part of living in this world.
 
        I have written more times than any of us could count that most of the time, I have felt like I was the healthiest and the healthiest looking patient in the cancer center. 
 
        Over the past year and a half, I have come to understand that there are two reasons why cancer patients look like cancer patients.  1. They have lost their hair.  2. They have lost weight and look emaciated.
 
        By the grace of God, I didn’t have to have the stem cell transplant and most of my hair that was there before the chemo has returned.
 
        The second issue is where I have had to deal with some feelings.
 
        Over the past six months I gained back about 20 pounds of the almost 50 that I had lost a couple of years ago.  There are several reasons why.
 
● I don’t have negative feelings that cause me to overeat.  I simply like Reese’s cups, cinnamon sticks at Gatti’s, banana milkshakes, and Teresa’s cooking, including her cinnamon bread.
 
● I went with the youth this summer on a four-day mission trip.  I ate like a teenager.  Pizza and “nutter butters” may make the palette happy, but their presence continues to linger.
 
● But maybe the most significant reason I let my guard down was a self-centeredness on my part.  It seemed like the more weight I gained, the more people would say how good I looked—as a cancer patient.  That’s a first in my life.
 
        We talked some months ago that one of the results of the Fall in the Garden of Eden was that Adam and Eve became self-aware, which is the precursor to self-centeredness. 
 
        Self-centeredness is one of the issues that every one of us must try to master and overcome.  It never goes away.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in our dominating discussions so that we are the focal point.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in demanding our own way and feeling like we know better than anyone else.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in putting down others, often in a self-righteousness.
 
        And sometimes even cancer patients have a tricky walk to balance the realities of what we look like and what we wish we look like.
 
        Some weeks ago I laid down the cinnamon sticks and decided that my health was far more important than if I looked better than some cancer patients.
 
        I decided that I wanted to get back to the weight that I was just before the first cancer was diagnosed. 
 
●  I guess that there would be one more reason I decided to shed a few pounds.  The trip back to Mayo looms.  A few more pounds in the next four weeks and I will go back to Rochester happy.
 
        Lord, help me when self and self-centeredness seek to control my life, which usually leads me to try to control the lives of others.  May I do as Jesus said, “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me.” Help me to love others as Paul describes love in I Corinthians 13.