THE WORLD STOPS FOR NO ONE. HOW DO I KNOW?

The world stops for you, and you, and you, because you need a break?

And it stops for the rest of us because things are moving a little too fast?

Hold that thought.

Hold the next one, too. Hold it tight.

The world stops when it wants to stop, not when you want it to stop.

It didn’t stop when you saw paradise by the dashboard light. Or did it?

You were undoubtedly glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife and didn’t notice anything.

Did it stop when Neil Young decided he didn’t want to share a platform with Joe Rogan?

Will the Spotify world stop when Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber follow Neil Young and Joni Mitchell’s example?

Maybe things take a break for a good example? For a bad example?

When The World Stops For You

Things happen that leave us too stunned to respond, like the world stopped.

What are you supposed to do when that happens?

Follow Saint Denis in Paris after he was tried and executed by Romans.

Instead of bemoaning his bad luck for getting his head chopped off, he picked it up and walked to where he wanted to be buried.

It was that easy, and that hard.

In other words, don’t try it on your own.

Results may vary.

When My World Stopped For A Moment

I detected a lump on my neck and told it to go away.

Pro Tip: Neck lumps don’t listen very well.

Then my wife talked to it while she talked to me.

Long story short, I signed up for lump removal after weeding out a few bad actors in the lump removal business.

To complicate things, it was a lump teamed up with cancer, a cancer lump.

Since these things happen, and it was happening to me, I locked my emotions down and settled in for the advertised cure of chemo and radiation doctors, not Facebook doctors.

On the day of my first chemo appointment in a small, comfortable, suburban infusion clinic, I called my insurance company for a last check-in approval.

I asked the right question. And got the wrong answer.

On the drive to the clinic I called and learned that my insurance had been canceled.

Canceled?

I knew the insurance company had made a mistake, but to avoid the confusion that would follow, I took their advice and rescheduled the chemo appointment to a place they said would guarantee coverage.

After checking costs for treatment I was going where they said.

Chemotherapy was complicated.

So Was Radiation

The mean cost for radiation therapy treatment was $123,629.14 (SD= $58,697.36). The multiple regression indicated that the null hypothesis was accepted showing that the independent variables were not statistically significant predictors of the z Score of Cost Difference [F (4,122) = 0.972, p = 0.425]. The results showed no significant independent predictor variables (p > 0.05); gender [t (127) = -0.943, p = 0.348], race [t (127) = 1.378, p = 0.171], insurance type [t (127) = -1.512, p = 0.133], and age group [t (127) = -0.230, p = 0.818]).

I remember watching the Wizard of Oz when Scarecrow got a brain and said something like that.

The author of the study I’m quoting had other thoughts to go along with finances.

This study is dedicated to God, who gave me the strength and belief in myself to accomplish my goal.

All glory and honor to God for seeing me through this journey. There were many late nights devoted to this study. I thank God and am truly blessed to have accomplished this goal.

I hope they also prayed for low deductibles, no out of pocket costs, and that God’s calculator was up to date.

Driving It Home

Instead of the enticing, comfortable, blue lounge chair of the suburban infusion clinic, I headed for the cancer floor of a big urban hospital.

I’d switched from what seemed like a chemo-cure environment to one with a side of desperation and dread.

People seemed to arrive at the first clinic with hope for the future; they arrived at the hospital after something dire happened.

And there I was with them, one of them. It was a stunning difference from where I started.

Things picked up the next day when I called the insurance company and learned that my policy had been canceled due to a clerical error.

After three chemotherapies spaced in between seven weeks of radiation, I was a wreck looking for a place to crash and burn.

The big deal throughout was showing up on time and keeping weight loss at bay. If I didn’t show up, or lost too much weight to continue therapy, I’d be dropped from the program.

In other words, the medical advice would change from cure, to get my affairs in order.

By the way, no one wants to hear that. (But they do.)

To all current and future cancer patients: the cure may seem worse than the condition, but five years out makes it all worthwhile.

You may drop down a rabbit hole, no, you will drop down a rabbit hole, and wonder if it’s worth all of the discomfort and fear during the process.

It’s a timing thing that changes from no, to yes.

Yes, the cure is worth the discomfort. You will say the same thing in time, so stay on schedule.

Right now, with radiation and chemo and surgery and recovery to look forward to, it might feel dark.

A pure light starts shining once you get to the other side.

It’s the same light everyone else sees, the same light you used to see, but things are a little different. Am I right Tyler and Mandy and Dylan and Kelly and Allison and Sadie?

Be a difference maker for someone.

Hey Karla, hi Lisa, hi Susan, hi Mary, hi Vicki, hi Cheryl, hi Laurien.

All difference makers. The world stops for your kindness.