At 29, I don’t know that I’m really prepared to contemplate my own mortality. But two weeks ago, that’s exactly what I was confronted with, as I anxiously awaited test results that could have detected cancer in my bloodstream. For a week, I lost sleep and ate little, as my mind was dominated by images of evil little cells coursing through my veins. I felt like I’d aged 50 years overnight.
It’s easy to say that, considering my initial test results and other indicators, leukemia was only an outside possibility. I also know that there are a lot of other people my age who have had similar scares. Worse yet, still more are actually dealing with such illnesses. But something is wrong, and when it’s your blood that’s being tested, you’re the one that doesn’t know what’s going on, and issues like life expectancy and finding a bone marrow donor suddenly feel like realistic concerns of yours, probabilities and compassion do little to assuage your fear. After months of escalating measures and constant tests, this is what it’s come to, and despite your self-assurances, no one has thus far told you that everything’s fine. You try not to feel sorry for yourself; you try to stay positive; you try to stay busy and not think about it. But every so often that chill rises from your chest, through your shoulders, and into your fingertips. It hits you: there’s just nothing to do but wait.
It should come as no surprise that this experience got me thinking about what’s really important, where my priorities in life really are. Friends? Family? Fun? Career? Money? What makes me happy, and is that different from what makes me satisfied? If I had only a few years to live, would I live it up, or work tirelessly to make my mark? Who should I be spending my time with, and what should I spend my time doing? What’s worth fighting for, and what isn’t worth my time? After all, confronting mortality has a way of making that time feel a lot more valuable. These aren’t just questions for someone with three years to live; they’re questions we should probably all be asking ourselves.
I don’t have cancer. But getting that call a couple of days ago hasn’t stopped me from thinking about these questions. I haven’t come up with all the answers‚ and probably never will‚ but I’m thinking a lot harder than I used to. I’ve always followed an internal drive that has vaguely defined my priorities, but now I’m trying to make those priorities explicit. I’ve got a long way to go, but I like to think that getting a good kick in the ass has set me in the right direction.
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