Real From The Start

Two weeks ago I administered a self-exam and found a lump on my left testicle. Naturally I went to see a urologist who said, "Yep, you have a lump there." Best $185 I ever spent. An hour later I was paying $950 to put my balls in a vice for an ultrasound. That was last Wednesday, and nobody has called me (or returned my calls) with the results yet.

On Friday, I told my very good friend and tennis partner about the scenario--told him that I was assuming the worst to better empathize with people who actually go through cancer, in the event that I am healthy, but hoping for the best. He simply responded, "Like I've always said, 'live like you're dying."

That comment sent my mind racing. If I had months to live, what would be important? How exactly does one live like he's dying? Two questions finally emerged: First, what do I want to experience before dying? Second, what do I want to leave behind? Those are big questions.

Assuming good health and good luck, I hope to live about another 18,000 days. That doesn't seem like a lot. Mortality marches on. It's time to get to work.

As an aside, I'll let you know when I hear from the doctor, and hopefully I'll be able to post some images from the ultrasound.