Contemplations on the year that would have been 2024

We are grateful that the year 2024 is drawing to a close. It would be an understatement of colossal proportions to suggest that this year ended up being a challenging one. The year 2024 brought many things along with it, but most notably, it brought fear, misery, pain, suffering, and death. But what has this year taught us as it progresses to 2025?

First things first, let's take a look at the first gong. That one was a doozy.

The first gong sounded at my birthday. We all had one this year; some of you may not have enjoyed yours. For my birthday this past February, I was the unfortunate recipient of a cancer diagnosis. Not just any diagnosis, but one that would prove particularly scary.

When the diagnostic tests were completed, I had stage IV prostate cancer, and it spread throughout my body. At least it missed my brain. I think that was a godsend.

Over the ensuing months, I learned much about cancer. They say information is power, knowing is half the fight, and a few other things. I was about to plunge into an existential war. I needed to learn all I could.

I learned some things along the road.

Even stage IV with a wide metastatic spread isn’t definitely a death sentence.

Don’t accept one version of the truth without seeking others. One doctor's perspective could be the truth, to them. But another doctor could have a different truth to tell.

The American “Big Pharma” system is a real and present concern for the lives of our people as we help support the firms becoming wealthy off of our pain. One medication alone retails for $15,000.00, and I’d be in a far harder situation without the doctor who helped me locate a program to receive the treatment.

No, life will not be the same. Survival comes at a cost way beyond the financial. Chemotherapy and pharmacological treatments for such cancer have long-lasting consequences that will age you 10 years in the first year.

That was merely the first gong. As the year finishes, I wonder whether my feet will ever feel the same. Some other things don’t function properly anymore, and that’s probably permanent. But I’m not dead, and I don’t feel like I’m dying.

Gong number two was a doozy. This one kicked me in the balls and made me cough. What was it?

2024: The Year of When it Rains, it Pours

Things tend to come like a flood. While they say God won’t give you more than you can handle, I question how far they’ve been pushed. How awful of a night have the individuals saying this ever genuinely had?

After having to take a trip to the local emergency department with someone way too inebriated to be helpful, courteous, or decent, I eventually made it home at approximately 2:30 in the morning. I placed my head down on my pillow when my phone went off.

Dear God, I wondered, what fresh hell is this? Going through chemotherapy is hard. I would have assumed most individuals around me could act a bit better. But evidently, I’ll have to catch up on sleep after I’m dead. That gets me to the second obstacle in as many hours.

A young person in his mid-thirties, a close friend of the family and of my son and his wife, died. All the youngsters would say, in hysterical fashion, was, “Jessie’s dead.” I couldn’t acquire an ounce of clarity. What’s a man to do? I guess it was after seven when I finally went to sleep that day.

What did it teach me?

Sometimes, when it rains, it does pour.

Pushing forward is the only way to survive the worst days of your life.

And, I’m stronger than I thought.

That wasn’t to be the last awful day. Not by far. I quickly grew to feel that this whole year was doomed. And for the most part, it was.

At the beginning of all this, I had a really close buddy. Remember the bit about being diagnosed with cancer? Well, it will force some existential problems to come up. What can you depend on as far as the future? What do you want to put people through, especially as you become sicker?

Before long, I began to realize that my companion wasn’t around. When someone labels you their boyfriend while you’re being treated for cancer, there are minor things you could anticipate. Like them coming to check on you once in a while.

After a time, the matter came up. Less than a week later, she asked whether I had any thoughts about her going on a date with someone. To make matters worse, she acted like she felt horrible, like she was leaving me in the midst of the worst year of my life. I had to persuade her to do what would make her happy. That meant moving on to the next fellow, who she already had lined up. But, faithful to my word, I swore not to treat her any differently or to cease joking about with her. Until I did, and three of her pals went on her phone and began texting me like this was tenth grade.

I didn’t know, was her answer. Nope, modern-day mobile phones, particularly iPhones, are password-protected.

Women, you can’t live with them…and I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

In October there was a temporary relief. With everything going on in my personal circle and my aforementioned cancer treatments, I had reached the conclusion of the round of chemo. The labs were all fine. The scans revealed there was nothing left for them to be worried about. I merely had to look forward to a once-a-month blood test and scans around my birthday.

In early November or late October, there came another tiny gift. Well, it wasn’t so little. Anyone who’s ever had a family member suffer with a significant chemical dependence problem, like alcohol or drugs, understands that when the individual becomes rid of the thing that’s wrecking their life, it is a cause to be glad. Despite what physicians had informed me at the beginning of the year, my kid opted to give up drinking. I can’t tell the world in words that adequately explain how proud I am of him, but I am damned proud of the fortitude that took!

Along came December, and I felt better than I had all year long. Finally, after a year of agony that saw my health diagnosis grow serious, a death that touched close to home, and my son’s marriage fall apart, I was convinced I would get a break.

NOPE!

It had been six weeks since my previous treatment. And now, my labs were moving in the wrong way. It’s not what you want to see when you’ve got the sort of condition that one of the greatest clinics in the nation only offers you two years.

“What the hell? Round two, I guess,” I told myself. But wait, there’s even more fun on the horizon.

A week later I would realize what the beginning of 2025 had in store for me. I’ve never gone through this one, but I’m sure I’ll grow acquainted with it. My position with the company I work for is being eliminated. So are five others in the State of Illinois.

So, does God stop giving me curveballs? This year has more than tested me.

NOPE!

I had what I assumed was an eye infection. I wish. Cataracts, at 52. What in the ever-living hell? So, now I have to hope that my present benefits stay long enough to go to the operation. I’ll see the doctor in January and hope that he can locate an opening as soon as possible.

After the way 2024 has gone, I’m impatiently ready to bid 2024 goodbye and welcome in a New Year. What did I learn, overall?

If there’s a central location where unmanageable levels of pain and misery go to torment trapped souls, I’m definitely living at ground zero.

If there’s a god, he’s a vicious and evil prankster.

And I’m clearly too obstinate to die.

There are just a few days left of this sad year, and we welcome in a fresh opportunity for a better year. May you all be fortunate enough that health, well-being, and happiness find you in 2025.