Yes, YOU!

Dr. Pangloss was of course wrong: this is not the best of all possible worlds. But it is the world we have and in which we must live, and how we choose to do so can make the difference between relative comfort and misery. Every human being has his or her own set of problems and limitations. There is no one single measurement of humanity or human life--other than the necessity for the heart to beat--which is identical to everyone else.

One of the most recurrent themes of these blogs is my attempt to urge you--and convince myself--to realize, despite what problems we might have, just how lucky we really are. That I so often cite my own often overly-emphasized challenges as a base is not a plea for sympathy, but merely an example of how one single individual deals with and comes to terms with his own obstacles, and a rough measure by which you may compare yourself.

The afflictions visited upon humans are innumerable and endlessly varied. I am not the first person to have survived a bout with cancer, or to have his life almost incomprehensibly altered as a result, but by talking about it, I hope it may make those of you who have not experienced a similar life-changing event a bit more aware and appreciative of your own life.

Food is essential for life, and we all tend to take it for granted. We eat without a single thought of what we are really doing, or to the myriad of totally automatic physical actions/reactions involved in the process. And for me, my inability to eat normally has been the single greatest change in my life following my recovery from tongue cancer.

It reached the point where I've decided that I am going to stop even trying to maintain the illusion of eating. I will simply ignore it and subsist, as I have been doing more and more of late, on liquid nutritional supplements which require no chewing and no saliva to process. Yesterday a friend and I went to lunch. Because I am something of a master of self-delusion, I ordered a "Cuban Panini"...a sandwich with sliced ham, turkey, roast beef, and cheese. It was huge! It came with a gigantic portion of french fries, a tub of cole slaw, 1/4 of a dill pickle, and a large bowl of soup. I ate three french fries, two small forkfuls of the cole slaw, one bite of the pickle, and that was it. I had absolutely no interest in the rest. Brought it all home, where I had about half the soup for "dinner," cut the Panini into 4 sections and froze them for future dinners.

I know I dwell on this and dwell on it and undoubtedly drive you and my other friends crazy with my bitching and moaning, and I'm sorry. But again, I do it for a reason: to hope you might actually stop, every now and then, and be aware.

When I sit in a restaurant, or watch people eating on TV, happily taking huge bites of whatever, chewing and swallowing and totally, utterly, completely oblivious of how lucky they are to be able to do it, it truly drives me to distraction! I want to scream at them: "APPRECIATE IT, YOU IDIOTS!!!" I find myself overwhelmed with...well, jealousy...and frustration. Going to a restaurant is equivalent to having everyone scream at me: "See what I can do and you can't?? Nyaaah-nyaaah!" It wouldn't be so bad if they KNEW how fortunate they are to be able to eat normally, but they don't. They don't give it a single, single thought. It's the way things are. It's the way things have always been. It's the way things will always be. Until something like tongue cancer comes along.

I of course would not wish my own experience on anyone, but it would be nice if I might think that by rehashing my own experience one more time, it might give even one person pause to reflect, despite his or her own problems, on just how lucky they--you--really are.

New entries are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Please come back...and bring a friend. Your comments are always welcome. And you're invited to stop by my website at http://www.doriengrey.com, or drop me a note at doriengrey@gmail.com.