Provided by Jeff Benedict
NEW YORK — I got out of bed at 4 a.m. in rural Virginia last Tuesday and headed for the airport to catch a 6 a.m. flight to New York. At 8:15, I touched down at LaGuardia. By 9, I was jogging in Central Park. I had a 9:30 breakfast appointment at a nearby hotel. But I needed to squeeze in a run. I had a lot on my mind.
Last week, my wife's brother was diagnosed with acute myelocytic leukemia (AML). He's 44 and has a wife and six children. His AML — a blood-borne cancer that compromises bone marrow and floods the bloodstream with leukemia cells that travel to other organs — is so advanced that he's on an unusually aggressive course of daily chemotherapy combined with a powerful new cancer drug. If the chemo and drug tandem works — and that's a big if at this point — he will still need a bone marrow transplant.
The suddenness and uncertainty are bewildering. "I don't know what is going to happen to me," my brother-in-law told me through tears.
His tears made me cry. Until now, I've never heard my brother-in-law cry. He may be the most rugged man I know. Drop him in the mountains with a couple of canteens, a hatchet, some matches and a buck knife and he'd do just fine on his own for weeks. He'd eat well, stay warm and dry and sleep fearlessly under the stars. He's a real-life survivor.
But surviving cancer is a different story. The IV bags and the blood transfusions and … the … shortness … of … breath make that clear. It's a jarring reminder that we all live on borrowed time. Life is a gift with an expiration date. That's what was on my mind as I jogged through Central Park.
Normally when I run, I listen to AC/DC or Van Halen or U2 — the sort of music that makes me run much harder and faster than my 46-year-old body prefers. But on this occasion I was running to appreciate life. So I scrolled through the menu on my iPhone and selected "Home (When Shadows Fall)," written by composer Peter van Steeden in 1931 and later performed by Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole and others.
Evening brings the close of day,
Skies of blue begin to grey,
Crimson hues are fading in the west.
Evening ever brings to me
Dreams of days that used to be,
Memories of those I love the best.
When shadows fall
And trees whisper, "Day is ending,"
My thoughts are ever wending home.
When crickets call,
My heart is forever yearning
Once more to be returning home.
Running to these words, I felt the sun warm my face and I looked at people going through different stages of life.
A mother with her little girl wearing a princess dress, tiptoeing like a ballerina on a curb.
A businessman in a dapper blue suit, gripping a leather briefcase, hustling along the footpath.
An elderly woman limping along with her poodle.
A homeless man curled up on cardboard under a tree.
A slim, college-age girl in a form-fitting "Columbia" T-shirt, texting on her pink iPhone.
A father and son sitting on a park bench, sharing a doughnut.
I ran more slowly than usual. I took more in. That's how I feel about life right now. I want to take more in. But then I looked up and saw the CNN clock above the southwest corner of the park: 9:25.
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