Monday Mission:

1. Although I was told before hand by my mother, my Grandfather finally told me he has cancer and it was speculated he has about 12 months to live. Has someone you know ever told you they had a terminal illness? What was it like for you when you found out. How did that change your relationship with them? The only person I can remember being told she had a terminal illness was my Grandma. We found out around January 2000 she had cancer and she was gone by the end of February. I really felt for my father. he was in Puerto Rico and wasn't due back to the States until the end of March. Part of me wished she could have just held on a bit longer so my father could say goodbye. When my mother fouund out Grandma died, she called my father's boss and by the end of that day, my father was home in the States and the next morning, we were on our way to Nashville for the funeral.

2. The concept of having 12 months comes as somewhat of a shock. Often those estimates are wrong and a person lives much longer. But still, it makes me think. If you found out you had 12 months to live, what would you do with that time? How would it change the way you live? Or would it? I just got this forward in the mail today. Consider it part of my answer.

Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"

Michael replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or ... you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or...I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or... I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is," Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life."

I reflected on what Michael said. Soon hereafter, I left the Tower Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.

I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied. "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.

"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon to be born daughter," Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or... I could choose to die. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

Michael continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read "he's a dead man. I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Michael. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes, I replied.' The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Gravity.' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'"

Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

I would probably want to live. There are things in this word I haven't done yet that I want to do. I won't be happy in some ways until I do them. After all, when my Grandma had cancer the first time in 1984, they said she wouldn't live long. She didn't die until 2000. So they might tell you 12 months, but that doesn't mean it will be 12 months. Like that e-mail said, Attitude, after all, is everything."

3. My Grandfather has decided to undergo chem

Posted by Shawn at November 11, 2002 11:33 AM in Monday Mission.