Climbing from the hedge
December 23, 2005 by William K. Wolfrum
It’s clearly apparent to me that someone wanted me to think about mortality in 2005.
My Godmother got hit with a vicious case of cancer that just about completely immobilized her.
Then a new friend I made in Brazil had brain surgery and nearly died afterward when his kidneys failed.
And finally my mother has been diagnosed with cancer, as well. She has already had laparoscopic surgery to remove her ovaries, which were cancerous, but now then they found more. She’ll have major surgery at the beginning of 2006, followed by chemotherapy.
It’s been just a swell time.
I really think the problem for me is that I’ve managed to spend 38 years on this planet ducking, dodging and drinking my way around anything resembling emotion.
A true story: when I was much younger, I used to go across the street from my house, where there were some hedges that I could crawl into. I was a little boy sitting in a bush so no one could see him, playing with my toys and daydreaming. I’d sit in that hedge every day for hours.
And more or less, I’ve stayed there. It’s been a lot easier to stay shielded and aloof of feelings than actually dealing with them in any way. But hiding from the important things in life is no way to live. There’s so much to think about and act on right now for me. Things are affecting all the people I care about, and my heart needs to be involved. Actively.
At 38, it’s time for me to crawl out of my hedge.