On Being An Ass

There are times when I'm an ass, a pedantic, know it all ass who uses words like pedantic. Yes, I misspelled pedantic too much like I've been misspelling words since back in Mrs. Hill's second grade class at Harry C. Withers elementary school in Dallas.

I never set out to be an ass.

I get excited and want to share and go from nice guy you want to have a beer with to a pedantic ass. This is happening more lately, more since the Big C came around. I have two theories on how the Big C impacts my being an ass:

• The Big C scared me pretty good, I start each day pretty revved up just to be here so add anything I'm excited about like Internet marketing on top and enthusiasm + revved up = ass
• It is possible to share too much, but sharing is what you want to do and in big ways when each day seems all kinds of precious

My desire to do the right thing doesn't change net result, net result is I can be (or feel or seem like) an ass. Confidence takes a pretty massive hit sitting in a chemo chair. It is a scary chair. Life's finite journey hits home pretty fast with 24 karat gold drugs dripping into veins once a month. After getting the gold you feel like someone kicked you in the stomach for a few days, then your sleep schedule goes all crazy. Finally both stomach and sleep are aligned and it is time to head back in for another round of mortality.

The thing is these are my trials, challenges and burdens.

Sharing my stuff takes weight off, but sharing with anyone other than other cancer patients, their families or my family and I head directly toward "ass" very, very fast. Again, not my intention, but net net that is where we end up. It is almost impossible to share how complete the Big C owns your life. You look for any quiet respite from a constant, angry storm. The problem is seeking the wrong shelter in the wrong time and in the wrong ways moves me into the "ass" space again.

Someone I know, love and trust described me as a bull in a china shop today and that is NOT the first time I've heard such feedback. There used to be more grace, more empathy and patience in me, in my actions. The irony of life is I was much more selfish then (youth), but seem more selfish now (not so young) when my only real desire is to help and share. Irony is a pain in the ass :).

 Little is sure now. Even who and what I am is in flux. My personal code is intact and strong. My code is about altruism, giving freely and with care and selflessness. Those are my life's core ideas now. Writing that I realize it sounds pompous, but it doesn't come from anything other than the need to feel connected and real, to feel like me again.

There is a problem. I'm badge heavy. I keep thinking the who I used to be will come walking back, sit down for an easy merge. Can you ever find your old self? Probably not, so finding peace with being an ass every now and then seems crucial to NOT ruining TIME.

Time, I've learned the hard way, is the only thing we can't manufacture or redo. I would have pulled the redo cord several times recently. Pulling the redo cord and still being an ass would be much to Ground Hog Day. I MUST be capable of not being an ass (good intentioned or not). Young, dumb and healthy I didn't worry so much about being an ass. Maybe, and this is probably the case, I was just as much of an ass then but cared less. Now being an ass is crushing robbing me of my most prized possession - time.

I'm determined to NOT be an ass.

The first thing that flashed in to my mind when a nice man in a white coat reminded me life isn't an infinite journey now six years ago was friends and family. The second almost simultaneous thought was an unfulfilled dream of riding a bicycle across America. I achieved the second (the ride) but am messing up the first (life).

Hope friends reading this will help by being patient, tugging their ear ever so slightly if I'm being an ass and smack me if I walk right by the ear tug. I love anyone willing to read this far as you are surely friend or family, apologize for being an ass and appreciate your infinite willingness to help.

Thanks for the ear tug.

Marty