30 Nov John Lennon
“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”...
29 Nov Defusing Anxiety
In the winter of 2017 I awoke one morning with pain in my right thigh. The pain felt like a serious bruise; maybe a torn muscle as my range of motion was limited; but there was no related black and blue skin marks to corroborate that diagnosis. Moreover, I didn't recall banging my thigh to cause injury. Yet the pain and the limited range of motion made me think that it would take a couple of weeks before I could get back to playing squash. Sort of a long time as I had had a meniscus and a couple of hernia operations in the past and was able to get to the squash courts in a week's time. Ten days later with the symptoms unabated, I went to my personal doctor for a diagnosis. She had me take an MRI. The next day, a Friday, she informed me that it looked like I had a tumor which most likely was cancerous. She set me up for Monday and Tuesday consultations at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center and at Yale University Hospital. She also sent me the MRI report which I immediately emailed everyone on my contact list with a note: "Just got notice from my doctor that it looks like I have a cancerous tumor in my leg; further examinations to follow. Wish me luck it's not the big "C. Will keep you posted." I received many responses to the email, wishing me well. Some friends were shocked as I'm generally perceived as very healthy. Some doctor friends opined that in fact the MRI indicated a cancerous tumor more than anything else. Others offered encouraging words. In the ensuing days, my wife was a wreck as we discussed the real possibility of having a leg amputated. I was good with the situation, figuring come what may. I also shared the particulars of my circumstances with everyone; from my doormen to strangers I'd meet on the grocery checkout line. Monday I went with my dutiful son, Alex, to Sloan Kettering. Alex joined me so that we would have a clear understanding of the diagnosis, prognosis and treatment protocol. At Sloan I met with Dr. Patrick Boland, a "top doctor" specializing in orthopedic cancers. As I understood his examination would involve a surgical biopsy, before he started I told him that "I know there is a small but real chance the best way to proceed is to amputate the leg. If you think during the biopsy operation that's the way to go, I'm good with that. However, if that's what you think, don't do anything. Just leave the leg as it is. Let me enjoy it for another couple of weeks and I'll come back to have it removed." Dr. Boland laughed, more than a bit surprised by my marching orders. Dr. Boland and his assistant first examined my leg, pushing and tugging it forcefully. After not saying much beyond sounds like "hmm" and "ahah," Dr. Boland said he had seen many tumor and cancer patients but I was different, "none look like you." I thought my upbeat attitude was not what he commonly encounters. Dr. Boland then recommended more tests, an X-Ray and a sonogram. Hours later, with test results in hand, I met with Dr. Boland again. The good doctor advised me that the apparent cancerous tumor was just old dried blood from a long ago bruise that had leached spider-like to appear as a cancerous tumor on the MRI; that unbeknownst to me I must have banged my leg recently to cause my thigh muscle strain. As I had an appointment the next day at Yale and the weather looked good for a drive up north from the city, I went to the meet the doctors at Yale. They confirmed Dr. Boland's diagnosis. Driving back to the city, I noticed that the pain in my thigh was no longer. Two hours later, I was playing squash. Upon arriving home, I wrote to my email list that the cancer scare was a cancer scare, nothing more; that in fact I was back on the squash courts. Lots of congratulatory emails came back, though some a bit cynical. On Wall Street friend called my experience "the tumor rumor." Another friend, a Catholic, said mine was a divine recovery; the Friday email sounded like I was in hospice and five days later a miraculous complete recovery; from hospice to squash court; Jesus must have played a role. How did I feel about this rollercoaster ride? Terrific, from beginning to end. Terrific I had an early diagnosis, terrific that I could avail myself of modern medicine, terrific that I was not ill, terrific that I was able to play squash, terrific to have had an entertaining experience; or that's how I chose to remember it. Before the good news that there was nothing wrong, I wasn't particularly stressed out by the dire possibilities. That might be a function of my general attitude and sharing my diagnosis with anyone who would listen. The sharing in effect had many others share my burden of an ominous ordeal which made moving forward, whichever the direction, relatively easy. When we have a problem and tell everyone about it, we ameliorate our anxiety and are better able to enjoy the moment....
26 Nov My Mother’s Transition 1
In 2014 my mother collapsed in her apartment in Brooklyn. Simply, her legs gave out. An ambulance took her to Maimonides Hospital to diagnose the problem. Initially she was diagnosed with having had mini-strokes. As she had been to hospital over the years for one problem or another, I wasn't concerned but felt best to visit her; overruling her objections to do so. At hospital I was told she was in Room 520. I went to Room 522 where there was an old man in a wheelchair sitting outside the room. I approached him and said: " Mother, how you doing?" He looked a bit confused, so I said: "Mother, it's me, Victor. You ok? Don't you recognize me?" Then quickly, "This is room 522? You're not my mom. Have a good day." He laughed. I then went next door to Room 520. My mother was there, in bed, alert and smiling. As well, her doctor and a nurse were there. After greeting my mother, I turned to the doctor and asked how my mother was doing, whether I needed to make funeral arrangements. Everyone was a bit shocked but for my mother who knew me too well. But I then added: "No, I understand, this is a serious matter. But before we get into it, I want to be sure I understand the relationships here. You are the doctor, she is my mother and I am her son. You're not the patient, she's not my son and I'm not my mother?" From there we got onto business. The doctor said that he initially thought my mother suffered from mini-strokes but as her neurological motor system was deteriorating further, she might actually have Guillain-Barre Syndrome. Guillain-Barre is an autoimmune disease wherein the body's immune system attacks the peripheral nerves and damages their myelin insulation, rendering the patient paralyzed to a greater or lesser extent. Within a year, 90-100% recovery is possible. After extensive and painful testing, including a spinal tap, the doctor determined she in fact had Guillain-Barre. In the ensuing days, as her condition worsened, she was put into hospital's Intensive Care Unit. I hired additional nurses to be by her bedside 24/7. In the ICU she was put on a ventilator and a feeding tube was inserted into her stomach which made her two favorite activities, eating and talking, not possible. A couple of days later I visited my mother. I asked her nurse how my mother was doing. The nurse said I need to ask the doctor making rounds. I went out the room looking for the doctor. I approached a man in uniform and asked him how my mother was doing. Another nurse volunteered that the man I was talking with was not a doctor but an HVAC man. That didn't matter as for me every opinion counts. I took the HVAC man to my mother. I told my mother that he was from Harvard Medical School and a specialist in Guillain-Barre. Then I said: "Doctor, what do you think?" Well, he was a religious guy from Jamaica and said best we consult scripture. My mother laughed. Some days later, as her condition stabilized, my mother was moved out of the ICU into a less intensive care patient's room. By then my mother had been on the ventilator for 10 days. Medical protocol called for her to be taken off the ventilator and to be intubated as continuing with the ventilator increases the risk of infection. Alternatively, she could be taken off the ventilator and effort to breathe unaided. If she was unsuccessful breathing, she would suffocate and die. I told my mother that the next step was intubation and that over time she might get better and lead a normal life. However, as she was 86, she might never recover and be with feeding tube and intubation until the end of her days. I asked her what she wanted to do, try to breathe on her own now at the risk of dying or go with the intubation. She couldn't speak but pointed to me. I asked her if she wanted me to make this decision. she shook her head indicating "yes." I then said: "OK, this is what are going to do. You're going to hold my hand as tight as you can, close your eyes, concentrate on breathing and the nurse will take out the ventilator. If you can't breathe, you will transition. So before we get started, I want to tell you I love you, it's been a wonderful trip, thank you for everything and God bless you." The ventilator came out and my mother lived. My mother never fully recovered and was wheelchair bound until she passed a couple of years later from congestive heart failure. My mother didn't have a lot of marbles but whatever marbles she had she retained until she passed. In my mother's last days she said she had but one wish. She wanted to pass in the daytime, not at night. I asked her why the daytime and she said she would likely be sleeping at night and not during the day and she wanted to see what it was like to die. She died a couple of days later, after the sun turn from up high, in the early afternoon. I guess she then knew its journey from there. That was my mother. No wonder I am who I am....
25 Nov Samuel Ben Hofni
"When in doubt, do without." Our eyes and ears can persuade us of almost any falsehood. Thus, when our intuition raises doubts about our perceptions, we should proceed cautiously....
21 Nov Way Of Way 106
The pursuit of happiness is a fool's errand. Happiness is like a mouse, it comes to those who sit quietly with a piece of cheese by their side....
17 Nov Way Of Way 107
The past are the bars our mind creates holding us prisoner in a cell. We can incessantly shake the bars, trying to free ourselves, but to no avail. Letting go our grip, the bars fall to the floor and we can walk away from our cell to freedom....
16 Nov The Purpose of Enlightenment
The purpose of enlightenment is both micro and macro, the realization of personal potential and collective evolution. On a personal basis, enlightenment lights the road to a happy life and the realization that who we are is one with everything and eternal. Collectively, when the whole of humanity realizes its potential, enlightenment, we will take an evolutionary quantum leap and transition from animal to divine consciousness: we will live in harmony with one another and our environment. Sapient beings have evolved technologically and now have the ability to destroy themselves and much that inhabits the Earth. Without this quantum leap in evolution, there will be many extinctions....
15 Nov Love 7
Knowing there is only one soul of infinite faces to which we are all connected is the essence of love. Love is wisdom, viewing the universe through the many faces of the soul. Love is compassion, treating others as we treat ourselves as we are but one thing, the soul....
14 Nov Creation
The universe, an infinite number of worlds, is empty but for waves of energy our minds transform into unique worlds, all of which seem real. But real they are not as there is only one mind and one empty universe with waves of energy....