In 1993, I got challenged to a steak eating contest by the Chair of Pediatrics. He was a big guy from Arkansas and his office manager was goading us both on for a month.
Feeling frisky I asked how big was the steak? 48 ounces. At the time I had a huge appetite, so to me 3 pounds was a low bar. We shook hands and set the challenge for Thursday night.
That morning I skipped breakfast, then passed on lunch limbering up for the big dust up. Dinner started at 6 p.m., but I got there early to scope the place out. Right by the door was the Steak Challenge History board complete with names in brass and pictures.
The award for eating the salad, the baked potato, and the 96 ounce steak was a free dinner. Ninety-six ounces, 6 pounds, not 48 ounces. Right then my doctor friend blew through the door and I burst his balloon, “six pounds each.”
We had been had, but decided to give it a whirl anyway. The steaks were bigger than footballs and the restaurant made us march them through the place while the theme song from “Rocky” played overhead.
Long story short, we each ate half, called it a tie and crawled home. I didn’t touch a steak again for three months.
Sometimes we sign up for things that seem like low bars, then God laughs. Every January I re-enlist for another year assuming I know what lies ahead. 2024 is the same, but I’ve had some year-end travel advisories.
Right before Christmas my esophagus stent dislodged so I got hospitalized. After Christmas the esophagus completely shut so I had to be hospitalized for a new stent. 2024 was starting a little off the beaten path, but I knew some changes might be on the horizon. What I didn’t count on was the surgeries triggering atrial fibrillation putting me back in the hospital after New Year’s.
Even though I steeled myself to tackle cancer in 2024, my cardiac history has become a skunk at the garden party. Truth be told I enjoy music, but carrying around a piano on my back is a little much.
A thoughtful person at this stage may be stunned with disappointment; a politician would be looking around to blame someone else. I’m neither, so I’m re-organizing new steps for 2024.
Before discharge, the cardiac team was wondering out loud about their treatment plan, while trying to fold in the oncology hairball. After laying out a potential path the cardiologist said, “Do we have a deal?” I snapped, “this isn’t a negotiation and I’m not a doctor. You and the oncologist need to agree on the plan then tell me what to do.”
The big war cry these days is to take control of your life, but a lot of times that’s like telling you to control the weather. Instead, I’m thinking when a ton of random variables fall out of the sky it’s best to focus on what’s important rather than dwelling on “what if’s?”
Without a doubt that will be enjoying my family and friends every moment of every day. Trust me, I understand that I’ve been playing a long game of peek a boo with God, but I still assume She has a sense of humor.
So, I’m shifting gears, pursuing a different path, and taking the leap that God is laughing with me and not at me.
“A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar…….”.
Slainte.