What Will Matter
Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.
So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won’t matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.
So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought but what you built; not what you got but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage, or sacrifice that enriched, empowered, or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not your competence but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.
What will matter are not your memories but the memories that live in those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what.
Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.
It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters.
Choose to live a life of character.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
This gives me hope that I'm not THAT bad...
If you know me well, you know this: I have one of the worst potty mouths ever. I can turn it off in front of little kids, but that's about it. This article gives me hope, hahaha
July 13, 2009
[BLEEP!] That hurts!
Posted: 06:32 AM ET
By Caitlin Hagan
CNN Medical Associate Producer
http://pagingdrgupta.blogs.cnn.com/2009/07/13/bleep-that-hurts/
OK America, I confess: Sometimes I can be a little bit of a potty mouth. (Mom, maybe this is not a great blog for you to read.) Yes, I know those dirty little words are unbecoming to some and I really should watch my language (and I really do try!) but sometimes, when I’m walking through my condo and I stub my baby pinky toe on a table leg and the pain takes my breath away and brings tears to my eyes and makes me freeze with my foot mid-air in ridiculous pain….well, I can’t be held accountable for anything four-lettered I may say. (D**n it!)
Thankfully, Dr. Richard Stephens and his team at Keele University in the United Kingdom just published a study that says swearing actually has a pain-lessening effect. (See Mom? It’s healthy!) When we swear, we increase our threshold for pain, meaning we can bear it longer and don’t feel it as much. Stephens is not sure why this happens, only that for some reason, “swearing appears to increase our pain tolerance.”
Like those moments when I stub my toe, Stephens came up with the idea to study this after he accidentally whacked his finger with a hammer. “I swore a bit and then around the same time, our daughter was born. My wife swore throughout her labor…and the midwife said don’t worry about it, we hear that language all the time.” Not surprising, says clinical psychologist Paula Bloom. “From my own experience of giving birth without drugs to a 9 pound, 11 ounce child, I can imagine I had quite the little truck driver vocabulary going on.”
For the study, Stephens asked the participants to submerge one hand in nearly freezing water for as long as they could while repeating a curse word. Later the participants submerged the same hand again, this time repeating a word they would use to describe a table. When people were cursing, they kept their hand in the water for 40 more seconds than they could otherwise. So what were the words that made that possible? Turns out they were different for everyone. “We decided at the outset that people would give us their own swear words,” Stephens said. “Swearing is quite personal and what one person finds extremely offensive, someone else may not find offensive at all.” That being said, the usual suspects topped the list: s**t, the F word and British slang – bollocks!
All joking aside, many people find swearing to be incredibly distasteful, regardless of when or why it happens. Bloom thinks this study may change that. “This removes the morality piece about language. We’re so quick to judge and sometimes our judgment interferes with science. We’re walking around thinking [swearing] is a bad thing…it’s not really.” Stephens agrees. “Swearing has gotten very bad publicity– it’s a negatively construed thing. But the positive aspect of it is swearing self-regulates our emotions. It can have a beneficial effect.”
July 13, 2009
[BLEEP!] That hurts!
Posted: 06:32 AM ET
By Caitlin Hagan
CNN Medical Associate Producer
http://pagingdrgupta.blogs.cnn.com/2009/07/13/bleep-that-hurts/
OK America, I confess: Sometimes I can be a little bit of a potty mouth. (Mom, maybe this is not a great blog for you to read.) Yes, I know those dirty little words are unbecoming to some and I really should watch my language (and I really do try!) but sometimes, when I’m walking through my condo and I stub my baby pinky toe on a table leg and the pain takes my breath away and brings tears to my eyes and makes me freeze with my foot mid-air in ridiculous pain….well, I can’t be held accountable for anything four-lettered I may say. (D**n it!)
Thankfully, Dr. Richard Stephens and his team at Keele University in the United Kingdom just published a study that says swearing actually has a pain-lessening effect. (See Mom? It’s healthy!) When we swear, we increase our threshold for pain, meaning we can bear it longer and don’t feel it as much. Stephens is not sure why this happens, only that for some reason, “swearing appears to increase our pain tolerance.”
Like those moments when I stub my toe, Stephens came up with the idea to study this after he accidentally whacked his finger with a hammer. “I swore a bit and then around the same time, our daughter was born. My wife swore throughout her labor…and the midwife said don’t worry about it, we hear that language all the time.” Not surprising, says clinical psychologist Paula Bloom. “From my own experience of giving birth without drugs to a 9 pound, 11 ounce child, I can imagine I had quite the little truck driver vocabulary going on.”
For the study, Stephens asked the participants to submerge one hand in nearly freezing water for as long as they could while repeating a curse word. Later the participants submerged the same hand again, this time repeating a word they would use to describe a table. When people were cursing, they kept their hand in the water for 40 more seconds than they could otherwise. So what were the words that made that possible? Turns out they were different for everyone. “We decided at the outset that people would give us their own swear words,” Stephens said. “Swearing is quite personal and what one person finds extremely offensive, someone else may not find offensive at all.” That being said, the usual suspects topped the list: s**t, the F word and British slang – bollocks!
All joking aside, many people find swearing to be incredibly distasteful, regardless of when or why it happens. Bloom thinks this study may change that. “This removes the morality piece about language. We’re so quick to judge and sometimes our judgment interferes with science. We’re walking around thinking [swearing] is a bad thing…it’s not really.” Stephens agrees. “Swearing has gotten very bad publicity– it’s a negatively construed thing. But the positive aspect of it is swearing self-regulates our emotions. It can have a beneficial effect.”
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Cancer Blog: Part One
I have been avoiding blogging because I haven’t wanted to write out the realness that is going on in my life. I have been depressed for the last month, but you don’t realize how useless the things you were depressed over were until you get news like we got. I’m just writing this because I will have writers and an artistic block (I’ve been working on the same painting for a week now but can’t get past my two ideas for the background) until I get it out. So here goes:
My family had been concerned about my Dad’s health for a couple of months, nothing TOO serious, but the worry was there. He had been losing weight, albeit it was TRYING to, and having trouble eating. Weeks ago, when he was on vacation he decided to go to the doctor to finally get this all sorted out. He did a Barium swallow test and they found a blockage in his esophagus. Days later, he did a scope at Wyandotte hospital, and the doctor confirmed the words we didn’t want to her. My Dad has Esophageal cancer. So, honestly, that day we were upset obviously, but Norman and I have tried to stay of the opinion that there’s no reason to really freak out over what we don’t know is going to happen. This is a key running theme in this story. I will not lie to you and tell you I haven’t cried or freaked out, because I have. I think I have experienced the saddest moment of my life this year, when I just could not pull it together and I was in hysterics. But still, why freak over what you don’t know to be true. Easier said then done. ANYWAY! We went to his family doctor that day, got the appointment set up for the CAT scan, and he did that.
My mom is lucky enough to be good friends with a wonderful woman and radiologist at Karmanos who got us an appointment with the best doctor they could offer us. He is the gastrointestinal specialist there, trained and worked at the Cleveland Clinic, and was highly recommended. When we went for the appointment with him a few weeks later to figure out what was going on his sense of humor and warm but firm instructions reaffirmed in my mind that we were going with the best choice. At first he marveled at my Dad’s happy demeanor and good physical shape and thought that there was no way the cancer had spread, and promised that if my Dad listened to him he’d be able to cure his cancer. After leaving and reviewing the CAT scan, he came back with the information that my Dad’s cancer had spread and there was no cure. My Dad has stage four cancer…there is no stage five.
Obviously, I was shocked and scared and ANGRY…boy, I was angry. I have been dealing with my anger about this in therapy and I swear to you that I yelled so much in therapy the other day that I left with a headache. My Dad is a young, funny, vibrant person whose greatest love in life is the work that he does. Beside worrying about his life, I’m just worried about his livelihood. The doctor said that the goal is to control his cancer, because there is no cure for stage four of this particular disease, and to help the patient retain a good quality of life. A shard of hope was sent our way, and I’m holding onto it for dear life. My dad is patient 38 of 39 in a clinical study at Karmanos, thats only in the works at two hospitals in the WORLD, Karmanos being one of them. This special study is a kind of chemo that is supposed to have lessened side effects so that the patients may be able to work or go about life in a more normal way. My Dad will be getting chemo every three weeks, at Karmanos, and he’ll be getting regular scans to make sure that it’s working. If it’s not, they will try something else. The other bit of hope that we received was his PET scan results; his cancer is only in his esophagus and he has 5 tiny spots in his lungs all under 5 cm. Tascha, his radiologist, said this is a good sign – nothing in the brain or bones, so who knows what can happen.
I feel scared, I feel hurt, and worried and hopeful and strong and shattered and sick and blessed and crazy all at the same time. I thank my lucky stars for having such wonderful, strong people around me and for having living proof that cancer is no longer a death sentence surrounding me. You will not believe how many people have been affected by this disease personally or closely until it happens to you or someone in your family. I am surrounded by survivors, fighters, and their cheerleaders. I’m joining the ranks. I won’t lie and say that I’m going to be ok through all of this, because right now the thought of my Dad going through the pain and suffering the treatment will put him through makes me want to break in half, but I will try my hardest to keep Daddy’s little girl and Daddy’s cheerleader as separate people. I am so blessed to have beautiful family members, the best partner a person can ask for, so many great friends and cheerleaders myself. I thank you all for everything you’ve done/will do for me.
I said at the beginning of this post that I spent weeks before this news being depressed. I won’t lie, I’m not exactly in the right place right now, but I’m going to work on getting better. I think sometimes a huge slap in the face tells us things we need to know and realize that our insecurities and blockages won’t let us see and know. I’m always about turning the negative into the positive, and although it’s going to be hard, that’s my plan of action.
“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.”
-Christopher Reeve
My family had been concerned about my Dad’s health for a couple of months, nothing TOO serious, but the worry was there. He had been losing weight, albeit it was TRYING to, and having trouble eating. Weeks ago, when he was on vacation he decided to go to the doctor to finally get this all sorted out. He did a Barium swallow test and they found a blockage in his esophagus. Days later, he did a scope at Wyandotte hospital, and the doctor confirmed the words we didn’t want to her. My Dad has Esophageal cancer. So, honestly, that day we were upset obviously, but Norman and I have tried to stay of the opinion that there’s no reason to really freak out over what we don’t know is going to happen. This is a key running theme in this story. I will not lie to you and tell you I haven’t cried or freaked out, because I have. I think I have experienced the saddest moment of my life this year, when I just could not pull it together and I was in hysterics. But still, why freak over what you don’t know to be true. Easier said then done. ANYWAY! We went to his family doctor that day, got the appointment set up for the CAT scan, and he did that.
My mom is lucky enough to be good friends with a wonderful woman and radiologist at Karmanos who got us an appointment with the best doctor they could offer us. He is the gastrointestinal specialist there, trained and worked at the Cleveland Clinic, and was highly recommended. When we went for the appointment with him a few weeks later to figure out what was going on his sense of humor and warm but firm instructions reaffirmed in my mind that we were going with the best choice. At first he marveled at my Dad’s happy demeanor and good physical shape and thought that there was no way the cancer had spread, and promised that if my Dad listened to him he’d be able to cure his cancer. After leaving and reviewing the CAT scan, he came back with the information that my Dad’s cancer had spread and there was no cure. My Dad has stage four cancer…there is no stage five.
Obviously, I was shocked and scared and ANGRY…boy, I was angry. I have been dealing with my anger about this in therapy and I swear to you that I yelled so much in therapy the other day that I left with a headache. My Dad is a young, funny, vibrant person whose greatest love in life is the work that he does. Beside worrying about his life, I’m just worried about his livelihood. The doctor said that the goal is to control his cancer, because there is no cure for stage four of this particular disease, and to help the patient retain a good quality of life. A shard of hope was sent our way, and I’m holding onto it for dear life. My dad is patient 38 of 39 in a clinical study at Karmanos, thats only in the works at two hospitals in the WORLD, Karmanos being one of them. This special study is a kind of chemo that is supposed to have lessened side effects so that the patients may be able to work or go about life in a more normal way. My Dad will be getting chemo every three weeks, at Karmanos, and he’ll be getting regular scans to make sure that it’s working. If it’s not, they will try something else. The other bit of hope that we received was his PET scan results; his cancer is only in his esophagus and he has 5 tiny spots in his lungs all under 5 cm. Tascha, his radiologist, said this is a good sign – nothing in the brain or bones, so who knows what can happen.
I feel scared, I feel hurt, and worried and hopeful and strong and shattered and sick and blessed and crazy all at the same time. I thank my lucky stars for having such wonderful, strong people around me and for having living proof that cancer is no longer a death sentence surrounding me. You will not believe how many people have been affected by this disease personally or closely until it happens to you or someone in your family. I am surrounded by survivors, fighters, and their cheerleaders. I’m joining the ranks. I won’t lie and say that I’m going to be ok through all of this, because right now the thought of my Dad going through the pain and suffering the treatment will put him through makes me want to break in half, but I will try my hardest to keep Daddy’s little girl and Daddy’s cheerleader as separate people. I am so blessed to have beautiful family members, the best partner a person can ask for, so many great friends and cheerleaders myself. I thank you all for everything you’ve done/will do for me.
I said at the beginning of this post that I spent weeks before this news being depressed. I won’t lie, I’m not exactly in the right place right now, but I’m going to work on getting better. I think sometimes a huge slap in the face tells us things we need to know and realize that our insecurities and blockages won’t let us see and know. I’m always about turning the negative into the positive, and although it’s going to be hard, that’s my plan of action.
“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.”
-Christopher Reeve
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)