Sickness
Life can’t always be an adventurous trek through one’s favorite nirvana; inevitably we find a brick wall.
Life can’t always be an adventurous trek through one’s favorite nirvana; inevitably we find a brick wall. When I was fifty-two, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I was afraid my life as I knew it was over. When I was a kid, my aunt Radie died of it when she was only forty-eight years old, and she was a shriveled-up mess when she went.
I went into a depression, so of course, I got myself some Prozac, I soon dumped the Prozac, sure it got rid of the depression but it also removed the highs. I needed my highs. I wish more would realize that. Anti-depressants are a Band-Aid, not a crutch. I had to rearrange my goals. Sharon and I had recently bought 5-acres down the road so I could have a better place for horses and a nicer home. That went on hold. I thought of all my horse wrecks of my past and decided that my body would hurt enough in the future because of the RA that it would likely be one more good reason to get rid of the horses. The money saved might come in handy as well.
I started reading and learning about my new predicament and found that modern medicine had greatly changed the reality for RA victims. When my aunt died, they thought it was really arthritis when it really isn’t at all; it is an autoimmune disease that often itself like osteoarthritis. It is too many white blood cells; white blood cells are what we have to fight colds, flu, and other invasive villains. Well, when you have too many, and they don’t have invaders to fight, they attack the host. I do not like being the host.
Upon diagnosis of my RA, my general. ht away wrote a prescription for Embril, a $1,200.00 per month drug (2006). My insurance refused it, instructing my Doc to try some of the older, tried and true, cheaper medication first. We did, they worked fantastically. I have largely been in a good remission from the cheaper meds ever since. Life wasn’t over after all.
Prozac certainly removed the lows; however, I noticed it also removed the highs. I was in this ugly equilibrium of no lows or highs. It sucked so bye bye Prozac. By this time, I had also finally accepted my new reality. At any rate, today there are many medicines to reduce the white blood cells; I love modern medicine.
When God closes a door; he opens a window.
In my new reality, I could no longer work in excavation, the dependable work Sharon the wife insisted I needed when the kids were in school. I had to find work that was easier on my body.
First I started driving the city bus in Jackson, much easier than a semi pulling two belly dumps with a 140,000-pound gross through a town so small that is shouldn’t even let any truck drive through it.
A bit before diagnosis, I got my first DSLR camera and said adios and good riddance to film; now I could take as many photos as I liked, and my portfolio grew. With the weird schedule of the city bus, I had lots of opportunity to run up to Grand Teton Park before and after work as well as some of the long lunch breaks.
My knowledge about wildlife expanded exponentially during this time. In the film days, it was expensive to shoot; my allotted 4-rolls of film per week were gone all too quickly, too quick to meet other local photographers in the field, and too quickly to learn animal migrations and behavior well. Not having to go home because of paucity of film allowed more time in the field, allowing more field observation, and to network with other photographers I was finally in the field long enough to meet other photographers; I came to call this my “Grizzly Bear Network.”
With my expanding wildlife portfolio, the wildlife safari companies started seeking me out, they paid twice as much as the excavation company and city bus did, By a weird twist of luck, I was less healthy, but my bank account was healthier.
Without the bifurcation of interest of my horse hobby, I again rededicated myself into photography. Because of the new digital world, I doubled my portfolio of 20 years in two. A few years later, having re-shot much of my earlier work, I went through my slides and scrutinized them with this criterion: will I ever scan this? I threw out three large garbage sacks of slides.
Not only was digital cheaper after buying the equipment, you didn’t have to scan photos for publishing anymore. Life is good.
So since being diagnosed, I was making twice as much money showing people moose and bears instead of building roads, sewers, and foundations.
A few years passed, and there were signs of bits of physical deterioration; I could no longer work the 40 to 60 hours demanded of my wildlife safari employers. I had to start my own business to make more money in less time.
Entrepreneurs make a hell of a lot more money than employees. I again doubled my wages.
Cancer
Life isn’t without it’s challenges; we prefer the character-building ones, but we can’t pick and choose. Cancer is the scariest of them all.
In 2014, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and had to have my prostate removed. It was my fault due to a long history of deferred maintenance. It kicked my ass and scared the hell out of me. About two weeks after surgery, a Facebook friend- a photographer who lives a mile from me in my town of 108, whom I had never met private messaged me and asked whether I was OK, he was asking because he hadn’t seen me post anything in the past two weeks.
I responded, “Well, no.” I explained what was going on. He then offered to start driving me around to where we might want to photograph things –then we did. This was the best mental therapy imaginable. We have since traveled all over the West and Canada together. I lost a prostrate but acquired a great friend.
In April 2018, I got throat cancer, a much tougher recovery than prostrate cancer, but once again, getting out to nature and taking pictures of it is the best therapy imaginable.
A very nice non-profit contacted me and offered a free fly-fishing retreat that sounded really cool, so I went ahead and signed up for it. I received the schedule, which included round table discussions with cancer survivors and psychologists after fishing each day. These discussions were meant to teach those devastated by cancer that the world hadn’t ended, even though they can’t do what they once could, and their lives were turned upside down. There were other ways to find joy, like fly-fishing. I realized that I might be taking someone's spot in a great program because I already had a bright light to pull me out of depression: “Nature Photography.” I declined their wonderful offer because I wanted to leave that spot open for someone who might be trapped in a dark place of depression. I love fly-fishing too; it was a great lodge with awesome rivers I would have enjoyed fishing and free guides, but taking that spot just wouldn’t have felt right.
Now as I have looked back on my prostate cancer recovery, I remember it only as a blip in time compared the throat cancer, but as I search my memory a little deeper, I think I did feel rotten longer than my memory of it because I was getting out of the house and taking photos. Because I had kept busy the recovery was a minute memory, overwhelmed by the positive.
Overall, the throat cancer resulted in a net gain; I lost the 80+ pounds that prednisone had gifted me for the RA, and my blood pressure returned to normal. Most of my taste buds were destroyed during radiation; therefore, food will never be the go-to cure for prednisone cravings. My workout has increased from a brisk walk to nearly a run.
Oddly enough, the cancer diagnoses weren’t as devastating as the RA diagnosis in 2006. Because of the RA sentence, I made peace with a future of diminishing capacity. By the time the cancers came around, I had already wrapped my head around it.
Having survived a terribly reckless and fun young adulthood, followed by a mid-adulthood that hadn’t learned all the lessons of that reckless youth. To achieve a stage in life where physical deterioration happens naturally is really quite an achievement. We are blessed to live in this day of modern medicine, where they can fix so many things that were a death sentence 50 years ago.
In 2024, after being cancer-free for six years, oral cancer returned, and I chose to slice it out instead of undergoing chemotherapy or radiation again. I realized then that oral and throat cancers would likely keep returning, In 2025, a tougher challenge arrived, requiring two molar removals, shaving of the jawbone, grafting flesh and veins from my wrist to cover the exposed jaw, and grafting skin from my underarm to my wrist. It was a very complicated affair.
Well, sadly, this appears to be failing, so soon I will be returning for a do-over (fingers crossed). Hopefully, with my increased skills as an new and hopefully temporary invalid, I will avoid some of the missteps from the first go-around.
I have lived several incarnations of myself as well as survived much recklessness and physical challenges. Whether I live another year or another decade, I have been blessed with great life adventures- adventures and experiences that have led to the wisdom to choose wiser paths. Wiser paths that have blossomed into a wonderful family. A family that would not have been attainable had I not chosen the wiser path. (related “Family Values –a journey of discovery”
The circle of life is an amazing thing; at 40 or 50 death is an unimaginable thing, a faraway thing. As life progresses, having a series of health challenges is natural. With each new challenge, we must gaze upon diminished capacity and the possibility of death. With continued diminished capacity and mounting health challenges behind us, we learn to wrap our head around the possibility and inevitability of reaching the end of our trail. Then I imagine one day, unlike when we were younger, we will welcome it with grace and humility.
There is more to this story here, the last chapter of an autobiography I wrote from my kids in 2019 called “Walking In Beauty”
Buy some wall art and help my cancer fight
You are very inspiring and have been since I met you. You’re a great human! Let me know if you need anything I can help with or just need to get out.
Nature, wildlife and photography have been a blessing to me also while going through cancer and will always be. Out there you feel alive and well. We will be following you on this journey and be praying for you. Life is good when you're looking at wildlife through the lens, no matter how you feel. <3