Being retired with a new, challenging occupation myself I guess I should look on the retirement of Dr. Michael Rooney, oncologist extraordinaire, and his move to teaching others as a positive transformation. And if he brings his quiet passion to his new work, it will be all that and more.
But I will miss the doctor to whom patients felt such loyalty; the recipients of his warmth and caring treatment in the toughest of fights: cancer.
Yes, I too have heard horror stories of doctors who don't test because you are too young to have cancer, who don't test because you are too old to treat, who dismiss fears as unfounded therefore not worthy of response, who fail to understand either the misery or urgency brought on by a cancer diagnosis. And while believing each tale, I also believe most doctors do or want to provide the best care and in the most supportive manner.
Perhaps, as beloved as he was treating patients, Dr. Rooney will make an even larger mark on patient care by teaching others his calm, thoughtful and unhurried support for the stricken patient struggling to make sense of a diagnosis, to make treatment decisions and all the while wandering the emotional turf of shock, anger and fear.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Curiosity
Someone should investigate curiosity as the best prevention for diminishing mental capacity as we age. Really.
Al and I are about to visit Death Valley. The choice of destination might surprise those who know me. I am definitely and definitively a tree person. A hardwood forest surrounded the home of my youth. Majestic cedars and pines drown the small town of my working and retirement years. Walking down a wilderness path next to a burbling stream my very breath comes more deeply and my heart is at peace.
So Death Valley came as a bit of a shock even to me. But like almost every place I have had the pleasure of visiting, the more I read the more eager I am to arrive.
I put it down to the pure, unadulterated and untamed curiosity; my companion since forever. I want to know. I want to see. I want to learn.
So, despite no trees, no brooks, no cool breezes I can't wait.
Bring on the "raceway" stones that move great distances without apparent cause. Bring on the play of light on multi-colored stone. Bring on the sand dunes, borax works, ghost towns, Devil's golf course, Badwater Canyon and Devil's Cornfield.
I believe there is something for me everywhere. And I don't believe curiosity killed the cat; I believe it is why a cat has nine lives.
Al and I are about to visit Death Valley. The choice of destination might surprise those who know me. I am definitely and definitively a tree person. A hardwood forest surrounded the home of my youth. Majestic cedars and pines drown the small town of my working and retirement years. Walking down a wilderness path next to a burbling stream my very breath comes more deeply and my heart is at peace.
So Death Valley came as a bit of a shock even to me. But like almost every place I have had the pleasure of visiting, the more I read the more eager I am to arrive.
I put it down to the pure, unadulterated and untamed curiosity; my companion since forever. I want to know. I want to see. I want to learn.
So, despite no trees, no brooks, no cool breezes I can't wait.
Bring on the "raceway" stones that move great distances without apparent cause. Bring on the play of light on multi-colored stone. Bring on the sand dunes, borax works, ghost towns, Devil's golf course, Badwater Canyon and Devil's Cornfield.
I believe there is something for me everywhere. And I don't believe curiosity killed the cat; I believe it is why a cat has nine lives.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
CAPTAIN CURE
The enemy...cancer.
The battlefield...a young boy named Jack.
The hero...CAPTAIN CURE.
Captain Cure creator, Ty Wakefield, knows all about the enemy cancer. An osteosarcoma survivor who remains in treatment, Ty has drawn the enemy, the battlefield and the hero in comic book terms to help explain to children (and adults) what happens when cancer attacks your body or that of someone you love. From symptoms to treatment and side effects, Captain Cure and his partner MetRex engage in battle against evil cancer.
Chances are beyond good that each of you knows a cancer survivor. And chances are that you and others have questions this comic book can answer.
Check it out! http://www.captaincure.net/
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Today The Work Begins
Today the real work of change begins.
Informed and inspired by my training at the Industrial Areas Foundation (founded by Saul Alinky) I became an organizer. Young and eager, I set out to empower others to right wrongs and build community. It was a glorious, if humbling, career full of Iron Rules (Never do for others what they can do for themselves.) and the hope that we were "the wind beneath your wings" when we encouraged, taught and moved others to action.
So, years later, no less committed, no less hopeful, but infinitely more aware...here is what I know:
Strong winds are hard to sustain, producing a less than steady climb - but a climb nevertheless.
There is no finish line. This is life, not a novel. Individually the only finish line is death. Collectively, we must learn and relearn truths, gain and regain progress, form and reform relationships.
No indiviual effort makes the critical difference, but all efforts are necessary to succeed.
We may become tired, discouraged and convinced of failure - but fortunately we won't all be there at the same time.
Sometimes we will be elated and hopeful beyond reason. That's OK too.
Occassionally, we will think before we act. Mostly that will end well and mostly we will be forgiven.
What we must always do is honor the humanity and the common cause of a diverse people; giving respect and never mistaking discord for destruction, yet hewing to our vision and values.
The work of change does not really begin today, it continues today. But it continues with greater hope, wider recognition and a new generation of believers.
Informed and inspired by my training at the Industrial Areas Foundation (founded by Saul Alinky) I became an organizer. Young and eager, I set out to empower others to right wrongs and build community. It was a glorious, if humbling, career full of Iron Rules (Never do for others what they can do for themselves.) and the hope that we were "the wind beneath your wings" when we encouraged, taught and moved others to action.
So, years later, no less committed, no less hopeful, but infinitely more aware...here is what I know:
Strong winds are hard to sustain, producing a less than steady climb - but a climb nevertheless.
There is no finish line. This is life, not a novel. Individually the only finish line is death. Collectively, we must learn and relearn truths, gain and regain progress, form and reform relationships.
No indiviual effort makes the critical difference, but all efforts are necessary to succeed.
We may become tired, discouraged and convinced of failure - but fortunately we won't all be there at the same time.
Sometimes we will be elated and hopeful beyond reason. That's OK too.
Occassionally, we will think before we act. Mostly that will end well and mostly we will be forgiven.
What we must always do is honor the humanity and the common cause of a diverse people; giving respect and never mistaking discord for destruction, yet hewing to our vision and values.
The work of change does not really begin today, it continues today. But it continues with greater hope, wider recognition and a new generation of believers.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inauguration...for my Grandchildren
I return to blogging after a long hiatus while I made my minuscule contribution to today's Presidential Inauguration. And it is with that subject I shall start.
Like millions of others, I was inspired, awed, elated and hopeful as I watched history being made in such dramatic and conclusive fashion. Yes, I hung on every word and image. One great gift of retirement is that a person can experience, at least electronically, the world and it's occasions as they happen. Today was my indulgence in a panoply of moments that hold the hope of a better world for all.
However, I am struck buy a singular thought relative to my age. Having lived through more than one "historical moment" I find that today is different in an important way.
I saw Kennedy, King and Kennedy taken from us. And then, like many younger Americans, I witnessed the horror of 9/11. All these moments in history were ones that fit the "I remember where I was when..." significance. But all the previous memorable historic moments in my lifetime were ones filled with sadness, anger, despair and a loss of faith.
And then there is today. With the possible exception of the moon landing, no other public event in my lifetime has provided the sense of hope, of being on the right path at the right time, of being called on for the best in each of us, of community and peace and justice forthcoming by the sweat of our own brow.
Like many, my life has been filled with private moments of hope and reward, love and laud, glories of the past and gifts of future. Public hope is much harder to come by and takes a common vision made whole by both symbols and action. President Obama today was our symbol. We all must be the action.
Like millions of others, I was inspired, awed, elated and hopeful as I watched history being made in such dramatic and conclusive fashion. Yes, I hung on every word and image. One great gift of retirement is that a person can experience, at least electronically, the world and it's occasions as they happen. Today was my indulgence in a panoply of moments that hold the hope of a better world for all.
However, I am struck buy a singular thought relative to my age. Having lived through more than one "historical moment" I find that today is different in an important way.
I saw Kennedy, King and Kennedy taken from us. And then, like many younger Americans, I witnessed the horror of 9/11. All these moments in history were ones that fit the "I remember where I was when..." significance. But all the previous memorable historic moments in my lifetime were ones filled with sadness, anger, despair and a loss of faith.
And then there is today. With the possible exception of the moon landing, no other public event in my lifetime has provided the sense of hope, of being on the right path at the right time, of being called on for the best in each of us, of community and peace and justice forthcoming by the sweat of our own brow.
Like many, my life has been filled with private moments of hope and reward, love and laud, glories of the past and gifts of future. Public hope is much harder to come by and takes a common vision made whole by both symbols and action. President Obama today was our symbol. We all must be the action.
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