A simple phone call

This morning I decided to go for a walk outdoors following a meeting with my boss. My next appointment wasn't for another hour-and-a-half, so I had time to kill. My original plan had been to walk to the Wellness Center and go for a walk indoors. Today hasn't been that cold, and the warmth and light of the mid-morning sun made the prospect of walking out in nature that much more inviting.

During my walk I had expected to get some exercise and get a healthy dose of Vitamin D by getting some exposure to the sun. What I hadn't expected was that my hike around campus would turn out to be a walking meditation ... a meditation on how acts of kindness, even a simple phone call to say "hi" or to see if one is OK, can be profound.

My thoughts took me to many different times and places during the initial minutes of my walk. My thoughts turned to what my boss and I discussed during our meeting, to my plans to go out of town this weekend, even to when I should change the spark plugs, wires, oil, and transmission and differential fluids in my dad's pickup. The next subject to which my thoughts transitioned surprised me. In spite of ... or maybe because of ... the chill of my environment, my feelings of tiredness, and the intermittent loneliness I've experienced the past several days, my mind took me back to a time nearly nine years ago.

In May of 2001 I was in the thick of recovering from the bone marrow transplant I'd undergone nearly a year prior. By that time I'd already experienced a great deal of physical healing from all of the rounds of chemotherapy and full-body irradiation that had bombarded my body over a period of about nine months. But the psychic wounds I'd suffered still gaped.

The spring and summer of 2001, despite the fact that I had survived one of the most traumatic illnesses and medical procedures one can experience, were probably the darkest times of my life. I don't know if the darkness I experienced was post-traumatic stress disorder or if the cast-aside fear and shock of my leukemia diagnosis in August of 1999 had finally caught up to me. I do know, however, that during that time I was mired in my own personal hell - a personal hell comprising distorted perceptions of reality, months of nights filled with violent, horrific nightmares, and abject feelings of having let down everyone who supported me and cared for me during my ordeal because in my own judgment I hadn't emerged from my illness a wiser, stronger, and better man.

Anyone who knows me - who really knows me - understands that I'm not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. I tend to be rather guarded, perhaps even secretive, about what's going on inside. It's because of that guardedness that it's often difficult for me to seek help even during times of my most desperate need. Since I was unable or unwilling to seek help without or find healing within, all I could think to do was to escape, to take a ride. "Take a ride" at that time meant jumping in the car and heading for Rapid City, a place of which I'd grown fond by that time in my life. I really had no goal for such a trip apart from hoping that it would provide me with an opportunity to have some fun following the end of the spring semester and help bring me out of my funk.

The first order of business upon my arrival in Rapid City was to get checked into a hotel. At that time I didn't have the traveling endurance I have today, so I was very tired by the time I entered my hotel room and collapsed on the bed. I didn't feel that bad emotionally when I arrived in Rapid City, but I was physically spent.

Not long after I turned on the TV and began to relax after my six-hour, 400+ mile journey, my cell phone rang. I drowsily answered the phone and discovered it was one of my co-workers. He was a co-worker, a man in his mid-40s, whom I'd known for a few years and with whom I'd generally gotten along but was never close. He and I were able to work together well, but our working relationship wasn't terribly friendly. He was a seasoned worker and I was still a college kid, so there were bound to be differences and occasional friction. Given our working relationship I was surprised he called and even more surprised that he knew where I was; I had only told my parents and my boss where I'd gone.

I had never discussed my condition, especially my inner turbulence, with my co-worker. But I can only assume that he sensed from being around me in the days prior that I wasn't in the best state of mind, and that must have concerned him. Thinking back to our phone conversation, I can't remember all the words that passed between us. I don't even remember much of anything about what happened during the remainder of that trip to Rapid City. What I do remember, however, is the fact that this guy, whom I'd never expected to hear from outside of work and much less care about what I was experiencing, called me to make sure I was OK and wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help me. And that simple phone call, that seemingly random act of kindness, is something I'll never forget.

Whereas when I began my walk I felt cold, heavy, and in something of a daze as various thoughts spun around my head, I felt lighter and in better spirits when I finally stepped back into my car after my hike. I felt better because I remembered an instance, one instance out of countless others over the course of my life, when someone extended a helping hand to me even without my asking for it. And I'm grateful I've been reminded of how even the little things in life - a smile, a kind word, a phone call, or an embrace - can make all the difference in the world.

It's been a long time ...

Wow ... I can't believe it's been so long since I've written anything here. There's no good reason for my lack of text. Laziness is the only explanation I can come up with. There's been a lot happening in life, albeit maybe not as much as happened this summer when Dolly and I were on the road together and explored the western U.S. and western and central Canada. But the fact remains I've been lax in keeping this blog up to date. I have to thank my friend Frank Klock for reminding me that I need to keep writing here, and I will.

One thing I'm going to do differently, though, is use this blog for a different purpose than I had before. As with my Web site and the previous version of my blog, I've been using this blog as a journal and a way to share the happenings of my life with anyone interested in reading about them. Rather than continue down that path, however, I think I'm going to update this blog with some regularity (but not likely daily). And when I do its content will deal more with the various ramblings of my mind in addition to the events of daily life. So my writings will likely be more sporadic but will be deeper in terms of content.

All that said I'm pleased to say that life in general is going pretty well lately. It seems I've finally kicked an illness or series of illnesses that have plagued me for the past couple of months and I'm in a state of good health again. Life is busy as always and busy in a good way. For the past few months I've been working as a computer support specialist (which, considering the work I'm doing, appears to be a misnomer) for SDSU's Diversity Office and Honors College. Most of what I've done in such a position is update and build new pages for the Honors College Web site. I've also worked on developing a new structure for the new Diversity Office Web site, which I'm hoping will be ready to go by the time the existing Diversity site goes offline.

Outside of work I've continued doing research on cars and car modifications and have continued to learn as much as I can about the financial markets and business in general. I haven't been as busy musically as I have in the past since retiring from the Lilacs/Sansarc and the Bluebirds a few months ago, but I've been working on music more with my buddy Dan Merchant and with the Methodist church Praise Team. The last gig I played with the Praise Team was this past Sunday and I'll play with the group on Sunday morning. Dan and I haven't played any gigs lately, but we have gotten together about once a week to work on music. And jamming and working on music with Dan has given me opportunities to try out different percussion equipment such as the Sonor Force 3005 drumkit I picked up a couple of months ago.

I haven't done a whole lot of writing or taken many photos lately, but I'm sure I'll pursue both avenues more once winter really sets in and I'm forced to spend more time indoors. In reality I've actually written quite a bit; most of the writing has simply involved writing e-mails, writing content for the Honors College Web site, and the like. The same goes for photos; the last photos I really took were during my latest visit to Wiky, which was a couple of months ago now. Most of those photos came from a hike Dolly and I took at Cup and Saucer.

Speaking of Dolly, my anticipation of seeing her again continues to grow as Christmas draws near. Dolly won't be able to spend Christmas with us again this year because her daughter Angel is expecting her first child around that time. So what I'm planning to do now is spend Christmas with my dad and Uncle Clark and then head for Wikwemikong the following day. And assuming everything jives with my work schedule I'm planning on spending a couple of weeks in Northern Ontario. I truly cannot wait to see Dolly and my Wiky friends and family again, and I'm truly grateful to have received a blessing like Dolly on my journey through life. I've enjoyed all the time we've spent together during the time we've known each other, and I hope we'll continue to have many good times for many more years to come.