Twenty-six months isn't really all that long, (although it's a third of my younger boys life). It seems like just the beginning, should I be so lucky. But then I think about the old timer who was standing behind me in one of the many lobbies at Sloan Kettering. I overheard him commenting to the fella who accompanied him about the three months his doctor gave him to live. A few minutes later, the three of us were on a packed elevator. As the elevator opened its doors on a different floor, the people waiting saw the few remaining spots and didn't enter. They just stood there. I looked back from the front of the elevator at the folks behind me and said, "We must be intimidating. They won't get on." And it was the old timer who was the first one to start laughing and cracking jokes with me, telling me I was the reason! He may have only three months to live, but that's just it. He's living. He probably has no idea how much he inspired me today. I'd love to sit back with him and hear some of his stories. He seems like the kind of fella who would have a few to tell. That's a hell of a place, Sloan Kettering. Shed em i ya got em. And keep living.
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