Strangely, aside, of course, from knowing that I'll be moving on from those that I love and hold dear, one thing that really pisses me off about knowing that my days are numbered, is that just before getting diagnosed with inoperable, advanced pancreatic cancer three months ago, I'd spent nearly two years learning to speak Spanish. I had advanced to intermediate level and and was reading, writing and conversing quite well. During my online course I had also produced over 400 pages of info, particularly about Spanish grammar. For the record, once the grammar makes sense, that's when learning becomes a lot easier. Anyway, a long story cut short. I gave up learning because I couldn't see the point in doing so any more.
Normalmente pase' tiempo aprender Espanol, porque es un idioma muy interesante. Pero no mas.
Okay, there's my little vent for the day. And yes, it really sucks.
I'm very sorry to hear of your diagnoses.
I can understand and appreciate why you feel the way you do.
The reality is, my friend, that you're not dead yet. While you're alive and motivated, there is hope. While there is hope, you will be motivated.
What is so often overlooked (and discarded) by the medical establishment is just how important hope is.
It's one thing to accept your medical condition and/or diagnosis and reality, and another to have hope.
Try to keep your hope. While I understand your condition may make overseas trips difficult to plan, why not plan another adventure closer to home.
You never know what the future might hold.
While I wouldn't advise you to bank on the fact that you'll be still be alive in 6 months time, you could be alive in 5 years. If you give up your plans and pack it all in, it makes it all so much harder.
Thanks, Sch, for those kind words. I suppose it's just something that I find interesting, mainly because perfecting a foreign language is (to me, anyway) quite a challenge, and there were days when I spent up to eight hours studying Spanish.
And you're right. Hope does matter. I haven't given up yet, and the strange thing is that I survived a near death experience once in my younger days. It was a serious car accident, and no one, including the police and ambulance officers, could understand how I'd escaped it alive. I recall thinking that it hadn't been my time yet, and that my purpose on this strange journey we call life still awaited me. Perhaps I've already served that purpose and just don't know it yet. Maybe one of my grandkids will rise up and take control of a world that has gone crazy. Who knows?
Anyway, thanks again for the support, amigo. I appreciate it.
And perfecting a foreign language is no mean feat. Some people have a natural talent for it. I, most certainly, do not.
> Hope does matter. I haven't given up yet, and the strange thing is that I survived a near death experience once in my younger days. It was a serious car accident, and no one, including the police and ambulance officers, could understand how I'd escaped it alive.
Likewise. I had an auto-vehicle accidental in my younger, higher risk taking days.
I've found it quite thought provoking.
Maybe you could add to this subject.
I will do, Sch, and sorry to hear that your car accident was so bad on you physically at the time. The fact that you recovered speaks volumes. I was saying to my wife earlier today, death can take any of us at any time, and none of us know exactly how it will come. I don't know if you saw one of my earlier posts, but when I was getting ready for a CT scan a few months back, a guy walked in with his son who was about 8 years old. That poor kid, dealing with cancer at such a young age, well and truly put things into perspective for me.
Take care, friend, see you on this site elsewhere again.
It seems to be an ongoing pattern I see around here. The people who have come closest to dying feel grief not for themselves, but sorrow for those less fortunate.
CaptainAustrali 's "What survivorship looks like for me". He has mentioned that what he found hardest was the children who were impacted by cancer, and has now committed himself to walking from Brisbane to Melbourne at the end of this year, to raise money for Kids Cancer project.
Don't be sorry about my accident. It was a long time ago, but as I'm sure you know, nothing was the same afterwards. It was a lot worse for me than my cancer. The cognitive and emotional scars that it left were a lot deeper than the physical scars, but thank you for your concern.
What it did teach me though was rehabilitation, which meant that I knew what I needed to do to help myself recovery.
Make sure you keep on posting up so we can join you on this journey.
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