Small Moments

 

People often say that life is made up of little moments, yet it only takes one to completely alter your course.  Perhaps not with the aspirational moment described in the Whitney Houston song "One Moment in Time," but rather with a realization that something in your life has changed irrevocably.

I distinctly remember starting to watch sports on television in the middle to late 1950s. My interest in professional football was piqued. I'm not sure what first drew me to the Baltimore Colts—maybe it was the horseshoe on the helmet, maybe it was the way Johnny Unitas played the game. Regardless of what it was, the logo and the initial letter of his last name were inextricably linked in my mind to the man who was one of my football heroes.  He set throwing records, guided his club to NFL championships, an d always seemed to pull his team through with amazing last-second scoring drives. I later watched every Green Bay Packers game in 1960 when a sophomore in high school in Madison, Wisconsin. My new football idol was their quarterback Bart Starr, who helped his squad win five NFL championships. To play quarterback like Johnny Unitas and Bart Starr was my childhood ambition.

Before my junior year of high school, my time arrived in the summer of 1961.  To train and fight for the starting high school quarterback position, I moved to Lafayette, Indiana by myself (before my family arrived in September) and lived with my aunt and uncle.  I was inspired by watching quarterbacks Unitas and Starr succeed after putting in a lot of effort and commitment. 

That summer, I completely focused on running, throwing the football, and learning the quarterback position.  My name was listed in the newspaper as the starting quarterback for the first game on a Friday night in August after outworking my rivals. It was a moment of unimaginable glory.  On defense, I also started as a safety.  I made a tackle on the opening play of the second quarter, and the next thing I remember is waking up on a Saturday morning in the intensive care unit of a nearby hospital in Lafayette, Indiana.  After my recovery, I saw the team doctor a week later.  He warned me that another concussion could cause lasting brain damage but said it was my choice whether to continue playing.

Although my parents let me choose whether or not to play football, the worry I noticed on their faces caused my heart to skip a beat.  The glory of being a high school quarterback was finished, and I immediately realized that my dream of playing was also over. I had no dream of a backup.

Looking back, that particular post-injury experience taught me a lot.  Over the following year, I recall learning the term "restriving" and considering my options.  I suddenly had the idea to model my behavior after my older brother Steve, who excelled in both academics and extracurricular activities while attending college.  My attention shifted to my GPA and activities.  I achieved academic success and was chosen as senior class president.  I ultimately decided to enter the legal profession after Steve.

Another event I vividly recall was during a visit to my doctor in Atlanta in 2000. He informed me that my PSA test result from prostate cancer screening was 11- a 50% possibility that I had prostate cancer.  I soon got a biopsy, and the results showed that I had medium-grade prostate cancer with a Gleason score of 7.  I was in the prime of my legal career at age 55 and good health.  My initial response to learning I had prostate cancer could best be summed up as shock and emotional numbness.  Nobody in the family or a close friend had cancer.  My cancer was ruled by the Veterans Administration as caused in Vietnam by Agent Orange.  Therapeutic options included hormone therapy, radiation therapy, implants, and prostate removal.  The worst-case scenarios included death, impotence, or incontinence.

When I found that several of my acquaintances had prostate cancer, I went into crisis mode and contacted them to explore my alternatives.  I decided I wanted to have the surgery to remove my prostate after lengthy discussions with my oncologist surgeon and acquaintances.  I had PSA testing every year to confirm the operation went successfully, but it would take more than five years of yearly PSA tests to guarantee that the disease had not gone elsewhere.

The news that I had cancer affected how I saw both my work and myself.  My level of enjoyment at work decreased.  I had always found order, purpose, and fulfillment in my work.  I truly appreciated the feeling of making a difference, and winning the case, and found pleasure in the social interaction process.  Work started to drain me once I was given the cancer diagnosis—meetings, reports, budgets, and office political issues.  Work turned more and more into just dollar and cents calculations.  The words feeling alive and a zest for life took on importance as my mortality awareness was heightened a lot.   I lost my gut motivation for work and took early retirement in 2002.  I had not planned for life in retirement and have spent my time since then trying to figure it out.

Until 2014, I went through life believing that my hearing was good (or at least adequate), even when input from friends and my environment began to show me otherwise.   I resisted utilizing hearing aids out of self-consciousness and because I thought they would make me appear older and be too expensive, difficult, and uncomfortable.  However, I soon realized that my resistance was making me appear older because I had to keep asking people to repeat themselves.  I was also beginning to isolate myself and retreat from social group activities, and I realized that was not the best course of action for a happy life.

I then discovered that the Veterans Administration provided coverage for hearing aids.  I quickly scheduled a consultation with a VA audiologist at the Santa Ana Clinic.  She informed me that I needed hearing aids because my hearing loss was moderate in my right ear and somewhat worse in my left.  

I recall the moment I received my hearing aids.  My 68 years of age registered.   I started to glance around and notice people wearing hearing aids, which gave me the impression that I wasn't the only one having issues. I also developed my patience and my capacity to control my irritability.  While I could hear those around me talking, I had difficulty hearing in crowded places like restaurants.  I picked up the habit of politely asking individuals to speak slowly, clearly, and twice.

Nobody can predict the future, but through a football injury, cancer, and hearing loss, I have gained a deeper awareness of how precious life is as well as how important it is to embrace it to the fullest.