An Unlikely Philosopher

 In three months I've had three surgeries. This last time (a couple weeks ago) doctors discovered a secondary cancer—radiation-induced osteosarcoma. They successfully removed the tumor, but a few days into my week-long hospital stay, I suddenly couldn’t breathe; I felt dizzy; and I started blacking out. A nurse yelled, “I’m calling it.” The next thing I remember, I laid on a rigid table, looking up into a whirlwind of about twenty different hospital staff. 

They worked feverishly to help and ultimately decided to do a blood transfusion and order several tests, including a highly intensive echocardiogram. The technician came into my room and meticulously adjusted his machine to get the perfect pictures of my heart. But as he worked he offered an unexpected masterclass in human philosophy. He’d immigrated to Israel from China and then from Israel to the United States. “People over here don’t always realize how good they have it,” he said then shared a harrowing story about a childhood friend who, back in the third grade, swam from Korea to escape, barely surviving by clinging to a lone piece of driftwood. “But the human will to fight for life is strong.” From there, he quoted Confucius and Buddha, speaking with deep respect about Muslims, Jews, and Christians, too.

Fascinated by this unlikely conversation, toward the end of the exam I asked, “If you could give me your best advice for my situation, what would it be?”

I expected him offer another quote. Instead, he smiled and told me about his son who loves playing one particular video game.

"He has four chances to beat each level," the man said. "But if he dies all four times, the game ends."

“Are you saying I better make my tries count?” I sighed. “I'm probably on my fourth try for this level.”

"Nope.” He smiled. “I figure you’re on your first one. That’s what I always tell myself anyway—just so I never give up."

He slowly walked from the room, leaving me there to reflect on so much—especially the concept of chances.

Today, I'm still really hurting from surgery, but the lessons I’ve learned along this path are invaluable. My body may often feel like it's faltering, but my spirit is growing that much stronger.

Note: It’s been two weeks since the surgery, and I've been home for the past week. It is so nice to be home.