Sometimes we like to take credit for the state of our lives. The career, the family, the house, the car(s) – the fact that we are satisfied, happy, achieving. Sometimes we conveniently don't accept responsibility and lament the things that happen to us. We may lose our job, find ourselves alone, in foreclosure, depressed or sick. Stuff happens to all of us in life and it is easy to feel slammed by seemingly random circumstances. Which parts of our lives are our own creations? How much of life gets handed to us, fairly or not? Does it matter?
I have been reflecting on my blessings, circumstances and happiness. I've struggled with many of the big decisions in my life. Even my best choices and creations have left many, many mis-starts and mis-steps in their wake. Even when the products are pretty, the process often isn't. Life isn't about the outcomes as we often make it out to be, but that messy process. The destinations may be somewhat unknown, even as we set out – and yet, we soldier on, in tune with some good feelings that drive us on from the inside.
A little more than six years ago, I acted beautifully in my own self-interest by committing to a lifelong relationship with Jacquelyn. We got married, symbolically creating a new entity on that day. The challenge for us, as for every couple, is to choose that relationship all the time every day. Now, I gratefully recognize that all the best things in my life flow from her.
A little more than four years ago began the adventure of a second, equally wonderful, blessing – the creation of Ana and Noah. Nothing brings me more joy in life and no one has taught me more about myself and God. They are constant reminders of what is important and matters most in life. Their whole existence is about learning to relate to the world around them. We sometimes forget that those relationships to others are the way that we understand ourselves.
I was pushed out from a complacent shore in a little boat on another odyssey a little over two years ago, on the day that my doctor confirmed that I have pancreatic cancer. I don't know what role I might have had in "creating" the cancer in me. Finding myself in the cancer boat, I am comfortable with the idea that it didn't "just happen" to me - without implying the judgment that comes with blame. I do readily concede that it is God's power and grace that has allowed me to keep babbling about it on this blog. I will be so bold as to take responsibility for the creation of my current reality as it relates to the cancer. I respect but don't fear it. It has helped me more than hurt me so far (thanks be to God). It has challenged me to make the most of every day. Once adrift, we row.
My friend Frankie taught me a lot about the world of responses to life's circumstances. Frankie passed away last month. He had been going for a while – spending all but a few weeks of the last 13 months either in a hospital or rehab facility. Frankie left this world graciously. He fought for his life joyfully and then decided to accept his death with the same smile – inspiring every one of us that saw him in those last days and weeks. In his death (as well as life), he taught us how to live. He took an inevitability – for him even more urgently than for the rest of us – and created it on his own loving and considerate terms. For better or worse, few of us will have that opportunity – to create our own passing. Or do we, in a sense, every day of our lives?
Life is defined by our responses to the things that happen to us. We never have to be victims. We can create our reality, regardless of the circumstances.
And so, given the biennial cycle that has brought lovely creations (and challenges) to my life – it seems like I am due.
May I have the courage to create more beautiful things in my life in 2011.
I pray the same for you.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Joy and Possibility
Advent is waiting.
The wait can take on a slew of varied approaches for people.
The days off from work or school are a sweet "finally!" for many.
We anticipate quality time with family and friends.
Maybe we are still waiting for that Norman Rockwell conflict-free family Christmas. (If it's any consolation, the birth stories themselves contain lots of conflict.)
For Christians, it was four weeks of preparing for the birth of Jesus by considering Hope, Peace, Love and Joy.
Finally, commercial Christmas crescendos on the 25th.
And now, the advertising that accompanied Advent and the waiting to see what Santa brought is over. What now?
Well…Christmas is about joy and possibility.
Blessed with loved ones, it's a joyous celebration of the birth of Jesus.
But further, the Prince of Peace comes to remind us of the possibility of what love can do. Christmas is our opportunity to bring the long-ago event into the present.
Maybe it's no wonder that New Years follows on the heels of Christmas.
On the days after Christmas - the first days of the rest of our lives - we can turn the page on the calendar. Start fresh of sorts. Maybe turn a few Bible pages to keep up with the story. Or turn to a more loving response in our most challenging relationships. It's time to turn and focus on different kinds of returns and exchanges.
The perfect New Years resolution finds its seeds in the Christmas message. The simple yet elusive challenge to be loving always.
I wish you many blessings in the New Year.
Peace & love.
franco
The wait can take on a slew of varied approaches for people.
The days off from work or school are a sweet "finally!" for many.
We anticipate quality time with family and friends.
Maybe we are still waiting for that Norman Rockwell conflict-free family Christmas. (If it's any consolation, the birth stories themselves contain lots of conflict.)
For Christians, it was four weeks of preparing for the birth of Jesus by considering Hope, Peace, Love and Joy.
Finally, commercial Christmas crescendos on the 25th.
And now, the advertising that accompanied Advent and the waiting to see what Santa brought is over. What now?
Well…Christmas is about joy and possibility.
Blessed with loved ones, it's a joyous celebration of the birth of Jesus.
But further, the Prince of Peace comes to remind us of the possibility of what love can do. Christmas is our opportunity to bring the long-ago event into the present.
Maybe it's no wonder that New Years follows on the heels of Christmas.
On the days after Christmas - the first days of the rest of our lives - we can turn the page on the calendar. Start fresh of sorts. Maybe turn a few Bible pages to keep up with the story. Or turn to a more loving response in our most challenging relationships. It's time to turn and focus on different kinds of returns and exchanges.
The perfect New Years resolution finds its seeds in the Christmas message. The simple yet elusive challenge to be loving always.
I wish you many blessings in the New Year.
Peace & love.
franco
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower
Only days after Thanksgiving 2010, I am celebrating the 2-year anniversary of my Whipple procedure – the surgery that removed the tumor from my gut. Hallelujah!
It is only by God's grace that I am allowed to continue to give thanks. He asks a lot in return but that seems more than fair to me. I struggle joyously with that ask each day. We all struggle, but never alone.
I try to flow. I try to ring. I try to speak. I try to be.
Here's a poem that spoke to me.
"Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower" by Rainer Maria Rilke
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am
It is only by God's grace that I am allowed to continue to give thanks. He asks a lot in return but that seems more than fair to me. I struggle joyously with that ask each day. We all struggle, but never alone.
I try to flow. I try to ring. I try to speak. I try to be.
Here's a poem that spoke to me.
"Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower" by Rainer Maria Rilke
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Another Halloween Milestone
The milestones of life and death for me are separated by two days. The life milestone, my birthday, is coming up. I am, of course, thankful for another year – just as I am for each and every day, for every smile and every hug.
Halloweens are bittersweet for me now. It is a death-reminder milestone for me, being the day of my diagnosis in 2008. I was in a daze after coming home from the hospital that afternoon and going trick-or-treating with my babies. It was their first time and felt very much like it'd be my last.
Yesterday, I read back in my journal to where I was then, just before my diagnosis. Though I feel so very far from that time, when my world was upended – there's lots that hasn't changed. On 10/31/08 I wrote:
"My Lord has given me the better result at every step in this process. It's what I've prayed for – one step at a time. And He has delivered. May it continue. So, I keep moving through this dark tunnel, trusting that I will come out into a good place on the other side. That all of the ugliest options will gradually fall away and that the root cause is manageable.
I pray this not just for me - out of self-centeredness and fear – but for my babici (babies). They (including Jacquelyn) deserve more/better. A dad…the best one that I can be."
And so it has been. As it turns out, my cancer has been more than manageable - truly a blessing thus far. Still, I worry all the time about what would happen if I received the dreaded (but not unlikely) news that my cancer is back. Surprise, surprise – I don't want to die just yet. I am still working at the best dad thing.
Life and death are much closer to each other now. I fear what happens if all of that energy on the positive side of the ledger isn't enough.
That is the heartbreaking injustice faced by too many others, for whom it is no blessing at all. I see the disease all around me. Tragically, we all do. Yes, I am extra-sensitized to it and yes I maintain relationships with folks similarly stricken – but cancer is an insidious mighty force. It is not just a menacing dark cloud over me but a gray sky that covers everything and touches everybody.
So…two years later, I find myself (similarly and simultaneously) - scared and overwhelmed, faithful and confident, pleading for fairness while hoping for grace. I am infinitely more grateful for the life and death milestone that is each day. I am also learning to boldly ask God for the blessing of more life in each and every case. After all, there's not a one of us that doesn't deserve it.
L'Chaim!
P.S. - Join the New Jersey Affiliate of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network for a 5K walk at PurpleStride New Jersey at 10 a.m. on November 7th! This event will take place at the beautiful Mack Cali Campus in Parsippany, New Jersey. It would be great if you could walk with us. It'll be lots of fun. But, if not, you can still contribute to the cause of pancreatic cancer research and awareness by helping me reach my $1,000 fundraising goal at:
http://pancan.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=425642&lis=1&kntae425642=2A17EAAAE9E9434686620EC46D7509A0&supId=246678354
(sorry you'll have to cut and paste)
Thank you always.
Halloweens are bittersweet for me now. It is a death-reminder milestone for me, being the day of my diagnosis in 2008. I was in a daze after coming home from the hospital that afternoon and going trick-or-treating with my babies. It was their first time and felt very much like it'd be my last.
Yesterday, I read back in my journal to where I was then, just before my diagnosis. Though I feel so very far from that time, when my world was upended – there's lots that hasn't changed. On 10/31/08 I wrote:
"My Lord has given me the better result at every step in this process. It's what I've prayed for – one step at a time. And He has delivered. May it continue. So, I keep moving through this dark tunnel, trusting that I will come out into a good place on the other side. That all of the ugliest options will gradually fall away and that the root cause is manageable.
I pray this not just for me - out of self-centeredness and fear – but for my babici (babies). They (including Jacquelyn) deserve more/better. A dad…the best one that I can be."
And so it has been. As it turns out, my cancer has been more than manageable - truly a blessing thus far. Still, I worry all the time about what would happen if I received the dreaded (but not unlikely) news that my cancer is back. Surprise, surprise – I don't want to die just yet. I am still working at the best dad thing.
Life and death are much closer to each other now. I fear what happens if all of that energy on the positive side of the ledger isn't enough.
That is the heartbreaking injustice faced by too many others, for whom it is no blessing at all. I see the disease all around me. Tragically, we all do. Yes, I am extra-sensitized to it and yes I maintain relationships with folks similarly stricken – but cancer is an insidious mighty force. It is not just a menacing dark cloud over me but a gray sky that covers everything and touches everybody.
So…two years later, I find myself (similarly and simultaneously) - scared and overwhelmed, faithful and confident, pleading for fairness while hoping for grace. I am infinitely more grateful for the life and death milestone that is each day. I am also learning to boldly ask God for the blessing of more life in each and every case. After all, there's not a one of us that doesn't deserve it.
L'Chaim!
P.S. - Join the New Jersey Affiliate of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network for a 5K walk at PurpleStride New Jersey at 10 a.m. on November 7th! This event will take place at the beautiful Mack Cali Campus in Parsippany, New Jersey. It would be great if you could walk with us. It'll be lots of fun. But, if not, you can still contribute to the cause of pancreatic cancer research and awareness by helping me reach my $1,000 fundraising goal at:
http://pancan.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=425642&lis=1&kntae425642=2A17EAAAE9E9434686620EC46D7509A0&supId=246678354
(sorry you'll have to cut and paste)
Thank you always.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Renewing My Lease
We have much to celebrate in our family these days. Extra much.
We just returned from a two-plus week vacation in Istria, Croatia. It is our annual visit to visit my 90-year old Nona, who keeps rolling past every challenge that comes her way. We hit the exceptional beaches on most days and otherwise relaxed and played together - making memories.
I may have turned a corner with the plantar fasciitis that has plagued me for almost a year now. I just ran my first couple of miles in about 5 months and feel fine, other than being slow and old. And not a moment too soon as that fun and fulfilling vacation has put me a solid 10 lbs above my typical weight.
Also, Jacquelyn and I just marked 7 years since we got engaged. Who knew all of this wonderfulness would follow?
But…ultimately, most important of all is the fantastic news from my medical oncologist, Dr. Fang, on Friday. My 6-month CAT scan is all clear! Thank you God!
While celebrating that last blessing with Jacquelyn, I observed that it felt a little like renewing a lease on an apartment. It's as if I've been told that I am all set for a period, until it is time again to revisit the issue. (Though I recognize that I could always get "evicted" prior to the lease ending.) My mind was put somewhat at ease about where I was going to "be" for the next 6 months. Alive and well is the hope. With each clean scan, I find myself daring to unpack a couple of more emotional boxes on my future plans.
The lease analogy becomes even more appropriate the more I think about it. If I were to be honest, I would need to recognize that my life is not truly my own. It is granted to me everyday by God's grace. I am merely a renter. God, rather harshly, revealed the lease arrangement to me almost two years ago. He reminds me of it sharply at 6 month intervals. Scan time is full of discomfort and fear, and each moment in between a precious treat.
We have so much to celebrate every day. Where do I sign?
We just returned from a two-plus week vacation in Istria, Croatia. It is our annual visit to visit my 90-year old Nona, who keeps rolling past every challenge that comes her way. We hit the exceptional beaches on most days and otherwise relaxed and played together - making memories.
I may have turned a corner with the plantar fasciitis that has plagued me for almost a year now. I just ran my first couple of miles in about 5 months and feel fine, other than being slow and old. And not a moment too soon as that fun and fulfilling vacation has put me a solid 10 lbs above my typical weight.
Also, Jacquelyn and I just marked 7 years since we got engaged. Who knew all of this wonderfulness would follow?
But…ultimately, most important of all is the fantastic news from my medical oncologist, Dr. Fang, on Friday. My 6-month CAT scan is all clear! Thank you God!
While celebrating that last blessing with Jacquelyn, I observed that it felt a little like renewing a lease on an apartment. It's as if I've been told that I am all set for a period, until it is time again to revisit the issue. (Though I recognize that I could always get "evicted" prior to the lease ending.) My mind was put somewhat at ease about where I was going to "be" for the next 6 months. Alive and well is the hope. With each clean scan, I find myself daring to unpack a couple of more emotional boxes on my future plans.
The lease analogy becomes even more appropriate the more I think about it. If I were to be honest, I would need to recognize that my life is not truly my own. It is granted to me everyday by God's grace. I am merely a renter. God, rather harshly, revealed the lease arrangement to me almost two years ago. He reminds me of it sharply at 6 month intervals. Scan time is full of discomfort and fear, and each moment in between a precious treat.
We have so much to celebrate every day. Where do I sign?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Making Memories
I don't have a particularly good memory. I often wish it were better. Who wouldn't?
Probably my first memory is of a group of kids – cousins and neighbors on the sidewalk in front of our house on 58 Rd. in Flushing. I was about 3. My cousin Valdy was there. Looking down on it from his family's second floor apartment window, I can see my blue plastic scooter bike at the center of the kids' action. . As I recall that scene, it's all about perspective. Like life.
Since that first memory of mine is at an age slightly younger than my Ana and Noah are now, I wonder what they'll remember. Will he remember the snazzy blue bike he proudly rides so recklessly right now? Will she remember the impromptu dance routines through multiple wardrobe changes that she puts on for us at her whim? Or something Disney?
I also remember, much more recently, coming home from the hospital on Halloween wondering how many more of these I'd get to enjoy with Ana and Noah. They had just turned two and I wondered if they would get to remember me. I want(ed) them to.
What about when memories are painful? Our emotional defenses look to blot out the unpleasant memories. Sometimes over-protecting us. What about those times (and people!) in our lives that brought us happiness then, but pain us for their absence now? To lose someone is sometimes to lose ones self. Unanchored.
I think that my memory is a little better now – maybe because I am paying better attention. Every day is a bit more memorable purely by being.
I apologize for this blog being a bit neglected lately – but we've been busy making a lot of memories.
Probably my first memory is of a group of kids – cousins and neighbors on the sidewalk in front of our house on 58 Rd. in Flushing. I was about 3. My cousin Valdy was there. Looking down on it from his family's second floor apartment window, I can see my blue plastic scooter bike at the center of the kids' action. . As I recall that scene, it's all about perspective. Like life.
Since that first memory of mine is at an age slightly younger than my Ana and Noah are now, I wonder what they'll remember. Will he remember the snazzy blue bike he proudly rides so recklessly right now? Will she remember the impromptu dance routines through multiple wardrobe changes that she puts on for us at her whim? Or something Disney?
I also remember, much more recently, coming home from the hospital on Halloween wondering how many more of these I'd get to enjoy with Ana and Noah. They had just turned two and I wondered if they would get to remember me. I want(ed) them to.
What about when memories are painful? Our emotional defenses look to blot out the unpleasant memories. Sometimes over-protecting us. What about those times (and people!) in our lives that brought us happiness then, but pain us for their absence now? To lose someone is sometimes to lose ones self. Unanchored.
I think that my memory is a little better now – maybe because I am paying better attention. Every day is a bit more memorable purely by being.
I apologize for this blog being a bit neglected lately – but we've been busy making a lot of memories.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Pancreatic Cancer Advocacy
I had an incredible, inspiring, frightening and frustrating experience last week. I went down to DC to advocate for additional funding for cancer research, and pancreatic cancer in particular. I met with my excellent Congressman (Pallone) and the aides to my two Senators. Seeing firsthand our political process at work was both exhilarating and exasperating.
It was scary to be so vividly reminded of the statistics of my disease - the five-year survival rate of 6%, the mere 40 or so survivors in a room of nearly 500 advocates, the many many tragic stories of family and friends that were taken by the disease. Sadly, the pancreatic cancer survival rate has increased minimally in the last 40 years. It is the only major cancer with survival rates that are still in the single digits. The fourth deadliest cancer receives only 2% of federal cancer funding. I am 44 with 4 year-old children who I don't want to have facing the same bleak odds in 40 years should the genetic curse prove true. Even for those blessed enough to have had the Whipple surgery (as I did), the five-year survival rate is 30%. [With absolutely no basis for this hope, I am counting on being in the 30%.]
It astounds me that several hundred people need to show up year after year, applying constant pressure, to generate the necessary support to increase funding for life-saving cancer research. And yet the funding for a new weapons system that even the military itself isn't asking for sails through with minimal scrutiny. Specifically, the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network is advocating for a $5.79 billion budget for the National Cancer Institute to support cancer research. That may sound like a lot of money but to put it into perspective…the US spent at least $150 billion on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq last year. So, every two weeks we spend as much for wars (that somehow benefit us?) as we do in a whole year to try to improve the health of all Americans.
My frustration and anger at our national priorities becomes even more intense when I consider what it means for others. My cousin is younger than me with two kids younger than mine battling an aggressive cancer that won't quit. Very sadly, most of us know of such stories. Knowing that we have the resources to do much more and choose not to incenses me.
Some of you may know that I have very strong political convictions. (Just ask my father-in-law.) I have mostly stayed away from that stuff here. But…our tax money is being spent people! It is for us to decide on the how/where. Just like each of us does for our personal budgets at home – we make choices. For the one party to refuse to co-sponsor an increase in cancer research under the guise of being fiscally conservative is maddening. It's BS actually. There is no escaping the fact that we have been choosing elective war and subsidies for corporate America. As a result, people we love dearly are dying unnecessarily abroad and at home.
As it says in Matthew's Gospel – "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also". My heart is with people. I went to DC because I would like to see more of our treasure directed to helping people. My experience of democracy in action was that it's not very efficient but it is the best we got. Like life, it is a beautiful and frustrating thing. It often doesn't turn out as you'd hoped. Welcome to it.
PS - I belong to the NJ Chapter of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. I'd like to invite you to a funds and awareness raiser on Sunday, July 18th. Join Noah, Ana, Jacquelyn & me at a Somerset Patriots (minor league baseball) game at 5:05 that night. Part of the ticket sales will go to the organization to fund advocacy and research into cures. Drop me an e-mail (franco_juricic@merck.com) if you'd like to attend. I am hoping to have a whole crew of family and friends going. So, besides being for a good cause it should be great fun!
It was scary to be so vividly reminded of the statistics of my disease - the five-year survival rate of 6%, the mere 40 or so survivors in a room of nearly 500 advocates, the many many tragic stories of family and friends that were taken by the disease. Sadly, the pancreatic cancer survival rate has increased minimally in the last 40 years. It is the only major cancer with survival rates that are still in the single digits. The fourth deadliest cancer receives only 2% of federal cancer funding. I am 44 with 4 year-old children who I don't want to have facing the same bleak odds in 40 years should the genetic curse prove true. Even for those blessed enough to have had the Whipple surgery (as I did), the five-year survival rate is 30%. [With absolutely no basis for this hope, I am counting on being in the 30%.]
It astounds me that several hundred people need to show up year after year, applying constant pressure, to generate the necessary support to increase funding for life-saving cancer research. And yet the funding for a new weapons system that even the military itself isn't asking for sails through with minimal scrutiny. Specifically, the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network is advocating for a $5.79 billion budget for the National Cancer Institute to support cancer research. That may sound like a lot of money but to put it into perspective…the US spent at least $150 billion on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq last year. So, every two weeks we spend as much for wars (that somehow benefit us?) as we do in a whole year to try to improve the health of all Americans.
My frustration and anger at our national priorities becomes even more intense when I consider what it means for others. My cousin is younger than me with two kids younger than mine battling an aggressive cancer that won't quit. Very sadly, most of us know of such stories. Knowing that we have the resources to do much more and choose not to incenses me.
Some of you may know that I have very strong political convictions. (Just ask my father-in-law.) I have mostly stayed away from that stuff here. But…our tax money is being spent people! It is for us to decide on the how/where. Just like each of us does for our personal budgets at home – we make choices. For the one party to refuse to co-sponsor an increase in cancer research under the guise of being fiscally conservative is maddening. It's BS actually. There is no escaping the fact that we have been choosing elective war and subsidies for corporate America. As a result, people we love dearly are dying unnecessarily abroad and at home.
As it says in Matthew's Gospel – "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also". My heart is with people. I went to DC because I would like to see more of our treasure directed to helping people. My experience of democracy in action was that it's not very efficient but it is the best we got. Like life, it is a beautiful and frustrating thing. It often doesn't turn out as you'd hoped. Welcome to it.
PS - I belong to the NJ Chapter of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. I'd like to invite you to a funds and awareness raiser on Sunday, July 18th. Join Noah, Ana, Jacquelyn & me at a Somerset Patriots (minor league baseball) game at 5:05 that night. Part of the ticket sales will go to the organization to fund advocacy and research into cures. Drop me an e-mail (franco_juricic@merck.com) if you'd like to attend. I am hoping to have a whole crew of family and friends going. So, besides being for a good cause it should be great fun!
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