High tolerance for frustration

The last few months have left me shaken. That shouldn’t be too hard to understand. Being handed a diagnosis of stage IV cancer is unsettling, to say the least. All senses go on high alert and jumble into a confused mess of me-first signals.

My typical reaction to life hurdles is to approach, analyze, and come up with a plan of action when I feel prepared. In fact, I know there are some who see me as adventuresome and spontaneous, because once I’ve sufficiently digested the details, my actions tend to flow fairly smoothly and without much advance warning to the outside world. My apparent impulsiveness can extend to behavior others see as risky. The outside world doesn’t know how much I may have agonized to get to the point of action.

In fact, my own evaluation is that I frequently over-think my options. My mind works on problems all the time. I half-wake in the middle of the night with answers I may or may not remember by morning to puzzles I didn’t know I was trying to solve. All this brain work is exhausting!

I never completely lost the youthful sense that I can do anything I set my mind to. That, paired with my tendency toward unending analysis, has taken me to interesting places, both in the physical realm and in the business world. Travel was a natural part of what I did.

That was then; this is now. These days I don’t like being too far away from home or from my medical team. I worry how far I can get before being overcome by exhaustion. Not insurmountable problems, of course, but worry can certainly sap motivation!

So here I am in Arizona, at a beautiful golf resort in the desert with many friends who share a passion for technology. We’re here to learn and to enjoy each other’s company. I could easily have talked myself out of the trip given my current state of affairs, but I came. I’m thrilled to be here and so far I relish every minute of it! I hope to take home a renewed sense of perspective on how far my circumstances have weighed me down.

I owe a huge debt to the friends who encouraged me to come. Being among people who make me feel so special is tremendously curative. They are feeding my soul. They remind me that I may have cancer, but I can still lead a spirited, active life. That’s truly special!

A peacock is better than an alarm clock

I’m on vacation. That may not sound strange to anyone but me. Fact is, I don’t take vacations. I do travel. And I do have fun with friends in far-flung places. But for the most part, when I leave my home, it’s for a purpose. I go to a conference, or a seminar, or a real estate site visit. I meet my friends on foreign territory and we share the experience, and food and drink. And in between the fun moments, I work.

I’ve been on my friend’s farm in Virginia since Tuesday with no agenda other than “go with the flow.” Very strange… and very fun. The sounds of nature come through the bedroom windows early in the morning, with roosters, peacocks, and guinea hens being the noisiest. The sounds all blend in with the cool mountain air.

I woke up one morning and noticed what appeared to be someone by the fence outside my bedroom window. “Why is there a person in a green coat leaning against the fence?” And then I looked closer and saw it was a peacock, maybe the one who woke me a 6:30. I didn’t get a picture of that one, but found the one above sitting in the barn later in the day.

Life is simple; my friends are caring and nurturing. I’m happy to be here. And I managed to get some pictures of the resident hummingbird while drinking morning coffee on my friend’s deck.