I’m cranky right now. My nose is bleeding. I’m sitting at my computer with a wad of toilet tissue stuck up my right nostril in the hope that blood won’t get all over my penultimate, or second to last, clean tee-shirt. (I don’t wear a shirt when I’m working. Sometimes I don’t even wear pants. I work alone so it’s okay. I say that knowing it’s an image that may, if you have ever seen me, make you cranky or make your nose bleed.)
I know I’m supposed to look on the bright side. I also know a nose-bleed is not a real big deal in this world of ours. Still. I’m cranky.
Than I remember that if I really wanted to do something about my nosebleed, all I would have to do is call the veterans hospital where I get my care and a nurse or doctor would either tell me what to do or tell me to get into the emergency room.
That made me think how lucky I am. I guess I mean that even with a nosebleed and cancer I can see the bright side.
I didn’t much like being in the air force almost 50 years ago. I thought I would when I saw the television commercials showing jet aircraft screaming across the sky and happy men and women – they were on leave, I guess – standing in front of the Louvre or a pyramid. I never got to fly a jet and by the time I got to Japan, my overseas posting, I was already itching to get back to civilian life.
When I got cancer and contacted the VA, nobody ever asked me if I liked being a serviceman. I’m lucky they didn’t. Nobody asked if my cancer was somehow service related. I’m lucky there, too. I told them only service-related injury I suffered was a cracked noggin when I fell off a bar stool in Tokyo or maybe Yokohama.
Come to think of it, the people at the VA hospital didn’t ask me much at all. Instead, they told me they’d take care of me. That was good news. If my treatment depended on the level of my happiness when I was in the service, I’d be dead already.
Two courses of chemo, surgery for a blocked artery, hospitalization four times in two years, psychological help to deal with the disease, and on and on. When I say I’d be dead without the VA, I’m not overstating the case. I would be, no doubt.
All in all, it seems I got a good deal for my four not-so-happy years in uniform, even if I never did get to fly a jet.
And as I’ve been thinking about all this, and counting my blessings, my nose stopped bleeding.
BlogCatalog
About Me
- Kieran Doherty
- I am a writer with terminal lung cancer. This blog is written to describe my experiences as I face this disease, to provide help and comfort and support to other cancer patients and their families and loved ones. I started my writing career about 40 years ago as a newspaper journalist. I've worked as a travel writer, business reporter and freelance business writer. I have published 14 young adult history/biography books. My most recent book, published by St. Martin's Press, is "Sea Venture," a history of the settlement of Bermuda and Jamestown. Sea Venture was nominated as Nonfiction Book of the Year by the Library of Virginia. I am currently working on a memoir, "Back from the Abyss," about my alcholic life and recovery. I am married to Lynne, a freelance editor and writer. We live in Lake Worth, Florida. I have two sons from a former marriage and two grandchildren, Chloe and Aidyn. If you'd like, contact me with comments or questions at biowrite1@aol.com. I'll try to answer.
1 comment:
We were together during part of that Air Force life and even if you didn't get to fly one of those F-104's(?), we certainly got to hear them up close and personal, living at the end of the runway, Web AFB. Big Spring, TX. A beginning for us and an end to servitude for you! We hated the place and the circumstances, but had some good times. You weren't cranky then! Remember, sitting on the built-in furniture of that old farm house, talking to friends and listening to Bob Dylan on the portable record player, while drinking cheap red wine? How we laughed at Voltaire, howling along with Bob's harmonica!
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