On Cancer and Gratitude

TL;DR? Hug the Fam

I just finished rounding today, and there is a certain poignance to seeing people who are sick and yet who still found it in their hearts to wish me happiness. My reflex was just to wish them the same, but I found myself choosing my words. I believe that where there is life, there will be things to be thankful about, but sitting in a hospital room waiting for family to arrive, it may be harder to appreciate. I did my best to wish that they would have things to be happy for today.

This day is known in my family as “Budsgiving,” since it is the once every seven-ish years’ occasion when Thanksgiving falls on the same date as my dad’s birthday (Wendell “Bud” McCune). Dad and his jokes will be missed. My brother Wade wrote a beautiful and hilarious obituary for him, and honestly, that writing is better than this. Feel free to stop here and click. I’ll keep going in case you come back.

Not to get maudlin, but I’d love to have him around for one more bad joke. One more off-color comment that he’d been told a million times you couldn’t say that anymore. One more time that he didn’t get me, but loved me anyway. But all we have are the memories and the stories.

I started this not really knowing where it would end up, but hoping I could convey both my sense of gratitude and impermanence. Gratitude for all of the great times. For my wife and kids. For their spouses. For my mom, brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew, and most recently granddaughter. For this country. For work. For health.

If you read this, I am thankful for you, dear reader. Your donating your time is something I don’t want to take lightly.

As for impermanence, if this essay does anything, I hope it sparks a bit of reflection, but not so much as to dampen your joy in the day. I sometimes joke that if anyone should have some perspective on how fragile and precious life is, it’s someone who has seen both war and cancer. There are only so many times you can be on one side of that stethoscope before it sinks in that someday, you will be the patient. We tend to live life like we’ll get some warning, but that is often not the case. Life is precious. Life is fragile.

So hug the dear ones. If they are not near enough, call them. If they are estranged, at least try. I’ve seen the pain of that call that was never made. And try, as am am trying, to practice gratitude. It is more than an attitude. It’s a mental muscle, and it gets easier with use.

Cheers, y’all

Happy Thanksgiving Budsgiving.