Lessons from Bettie's Challenge

After posting "The Wedding Gift" I was thinking: "Gee, I could go on a long time telling stories about Bettie and me". Sorry...no, I can't. Not now anyway. I think we're getting close to the end of the road here. Readership is way down to just a handful each day...five to seven of you die-hard fans. Ah ha, you didn't know I was watching, did you? Yep, every day I get a report of how many readers there were, how many new, how many unique visits, that kind of stuff. Makes you wonder what else I know, doesn't it?

C'mon, lighten up...it is all anonymous. I just know the numbers, not the "who" of them.

The last time I titled a post "The Next to the Last Chapter" it turned out to be six posts ago, so what do I know? Anyway, I'm planning to put up something about "moving on" after this one, and that will probably be it.

For now, I'd like to perhaps ramble a bit here about things I've learned through this challenge, in no particular order. You may remember in the beginning (About This Blog) that I said this may be therapeutic for me and in (Why Me, Why Not) I said: "The real tragedy would be to travel the entire road, whatever it turns out to be, and not scatter some bread crumbs along the way for the next person who might venture into this wilderness."

Actually, both of those things have happened. Not only did I find it therapeutic, I actually learned I could write stuff, other than technical (which I do for a living) and quite enjoy myself in the process.

As far as helping others, there is still a link on Dr. Aaron Heide's web site to this blog, in hopes of helping other stroke victims. Just the other day, a fellow who works on my daughter Kim's team at Comcast called me just to talk ... it seems his wife is dying of cancer.

For you people of faith, Romans 8:28 comes to mind in all of this, doesn't it? I've seen enough examples to realize that my family's experience, and my writing about it here, is merely a small but never-the-less important piece of a giant puzzle. It's a humbling realization.

Another "lesson" is one I brought out in Where Else but America. The outpouring of love and support one receives in times like these is something you simply have to experience to truly understand. I suppose a cynical person could say, "Where has this been all my life", and maybe they'd have a minor point.

But busy lives or not, when you're hurting, people in our society respond like you wouldn't believe. I have a basket full of cards with the sweetest, most sincere and touching sentiments, many from people I hardly know.

When the entire staff of a busy medical clinic takes time to write personal messages, you know you're supported. (Two clinics did that.) The lesson is this: There is a big reservoir that will be ready for you, should you need it, and you are part of everyone else's reservoir. We are blessed to live in a society with values like ours. Americans don't go through this kind of stuff alone.

Speaking of clinics, let me speak a little of the professional care we received though our "challenge". For many years, Bettie and I have been more into the natural as opposed to the pharmaceutical approach to health.

We would be more likely to seek an "alternative" solution than the "traditional" one in most cases. With this situation, my 911 call on that fateful Tuesday morning in June, plunged us directly into the middle of traditional medical care. It was the best, and only, option available. Through the ensuing months I have come to have a deep appreciation and respect for the professional people who have dedicated their lives to careers in this field.

It grieves me to hear high public officials imply that the health care professions are filled with greedy doctors, merciless insurance people, and care facilities that routinely turn sick and dying people into the streets. If American health care is broken, somehow I completely missed it. I saw people working unbelievable hours providing loving care because they wanted to be in a helping profession.

In numerous previous posts I have singled out many of them. When your life is on the line, who do you want looking out for you, a politician or a medical professional? Now there's a no-brainer for you.

Now for some things that I would do differently if I had the chance.

• This first one I mentioned early on in the post "I'm Watching My Phraseology". The last seven months I have proven to myself that it is possible to live with a person and find absolutely nothing to criticize, condemn, or complain about...nothing, ever. As I said, it is just a choice and I wish I had made it, oh, 50 years ago or so. Things would have been even better.
• If you or a loved one are diagnosed with a condition that elevates your risk for stroke, take it very seriously. If a blood thinner is recommended, take it while you are looking for a more natural alternative, if that's what you want. I know of no side-effect that is anywhere near as bad as a stroke. We don't know if Bettie's stroke was from atrial fibrillation (which we knew she had) or lymphoma (which we didn't). But by the time she finally found a cardiologist she liked and got on a blood thinner, her stroke was 24 hours away.
• If you are a "natural and organic" kind of person with your dietary regime, may I suggest that you extend that same concept to other areas of your life. Now that I've learned a little about lymphoma (and this is true of many cancers I'm sure) I have a strong suspicion that a major contributor to this killer disease was toxic cleaners.
  
  Bettie, as many of you have surmised, waged an epic war with dirt all her life. Mrs. Clean, that was her. Every Friday the house smelled of pine oil as she worked her magic with mop, sponge, (often leaky) rubber gloves, and the famous bottle with a tree in its name. Read the label. It is highly toxic, as is much of our society. It behooves you to watch more than just what you eat. From now on, if I can't use it in my salad dressing, I'm not using it on my floor.
• Say it now. If there is any positive thing at all that I can say about Bettie's Challenge it would be that at least it gave us time to tell her what we wanted to. Your challenge may not afford you the same opportunity. In fact, Bettie didn't have the same benefit ... she could never say what she really wanted. We knew it was there, but ... well, it was sad to watch.
• Do it now. Procrastination may make the moment easier but it does nothing to ease the pain of "if only I'd done...". Everyone has their mental "bucket list", but if you are in a relationship, the list that really should matter to you is your mate's. Do you know what is on their list? If not, find out and start helping them check off the items. Don't wait until ... well, you know.
• This last mulligan I'd like to take should be of interest to married men. I apologize if it sounds sexist, but it was true in my relationship, and Bettie would approve ... No, she would applaud me mentioning it: I married a Stradivarius. I kept it polished, dust free, and in tune. It had a protective case and never got scratched. Every now and then, I would actually play it. Mostly simple stuff like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Then I'd put it away and for too long, forget how absolutely beautiful even a simple tune sounded. I should have been playing every day.
  
  Challenging myself to make ever more beautiful melodies; eventually even mastering the very difficult passages. It was awesome to be in possession of such an incredible instrument, but the lost melodies haunt me as I consider what more there could have been. Something over 500 of these masterpieces are known to exist. Perhaps there is one in your kitchen right now.

In looking back over this post, I find four references to previous posts. This is a giveaway that redundancy is setting in. Time to give it a rest. Before I do though, there will be one more post, in two to three weeks. In that one, I will answer the question, as best I can, that I get virtually every day: "So Dick, how are you doing."

I don't want this to become "Dick's Challenge", but I know many of you are, with good reason, concerned for me. I want to tell you about what I'm doing to move on. What has changed, what stays the same. That kind of stuff. It is a story that won't be finished for a long time, but it has begun and inquiring minds want to know, as the saying goes. So check back from time to time ... and remember, I'm watching.