The other day I had a great day trading stocks. I flipped a stock that rose quickly. It was the most profitable fifteen minutes of
my life. The euphoria had me pacing
around the room, yelling, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and making whooping sounds. What a great way to start a day.
The next day I noticed that same stock rocketing upward and
bought it, only to see it collapse. In a
panic I dumped it. Then it shot up
higher than ever. I ended up giving back
about one-third of my profit from the day before. And I felt really, really stupid.
Sure, there was still a nice chunk of change left over. But nobody likes feeling stupid, especially
when it costs a few hundred dollars.
This and a few other minor irritants dampened my mood. It wasn’t a terrible mood. I’d give it a C- if moods had a report card.
A short time later I went to a checkup with my
oncologist. When I arrived I saw the
waiting room was packed.
“Great. I’m going to
have to wait a long time,” I thought pessimistically. But within three minutes I was called back
for my blood draw. Then I had an even
shorter wait to see the doctor.
But, that brief time in the waiting room was enough to
remind me of how bad I used to feel when I had cancer and waited to have lab
work done and see the doctor. Looking
around, I saw some pretty sick people and their loved ones sitting there with
them. It was never hard for me to
realize cancer patients felt awful whenever I saw them. This time I knew how they felt.
Three years ago right now I was dreading chemotherapy, which
began the Monday after Thanksgiving. The
cancer was diagnosed the first week of November, which meant the entire month
was spent with a dark cloud over me.
Fasten your seatbelt.
It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Aside from losing weight, my hair, and my lunch, I knew
little else about the side effects of chemo.
I tried to prepare myself physically, mentally, and emotionally as best
I could.
Those few minutes waiting to see the oncologist upgraded my
mood to an A.
I don’t have
cancer! There is nothing for me to
dread.
No comments:
Post a Comment