There was a time in my misspent youth when I was fond of saying to a
certain female, "Every day we don't make love is one day less we will be
able to make love".

I was reminded of that comment from long ago when I got a phone call
late last week telling me that a mutual friend had gone to the emergency
room of a local hospital, complaining about not feeling well.

They discovered kidney cancer and admitted her immediately.

Exploratory surgery was conducted today.

There will be no chemo, no further surgery.

She has at best, a few weeks.

Don't ever forget, EVERY day you DON'T do something, is one less day you
will be ABLE to do that something.

Lew

"Lew Hodgett" wrote in message
ink.net...
There was a time in my misspent youth when I was fond of saying to a
certain female, "Every day we don't make love is one day less we will be
able to make love".

I was reminded of that comment from long ago when I got a phone call late
last week telling me that a mutual friend had gone to the emergency room
of a local hospital, complaining about not feeling well.

They discovered kidney cancer and admitted her immediately.

Exploratory surgery was conducted today.

There will be no chemo, no further surgery.

She has at best, a few weeks.

Don't ever forget, EVERY day you DON'T do something, is one less day you
will be ABLE to do that something.

Lew

Sorry to hear of this, Lew...
I'd like to add "Too soon old, too late smart".
Tom

On Tue, 26 Jul 2005 05:38:41 GMT, the opaque Lew Hodgett
clearly wrote:

There was a time in my misspent youth when I was fond of saying to a
certain female, "Every day we don't make love is one day less we will be
able to make love".

When I was a yout, I said "Every hour..." domg


I was reminded of that comment from long ago when I got a phone call
late last week telling me that a mutual friend had gone to the emergency
room of a local hospital, complaining about not feeling well.

They discovered kidney cancer and admitted her immediately.

Exploratory surgery was conducted today.

There will be no chemo, no further surgery.

She has at best, a few weeks.

Suckage. She's lucky, though. Laying around and slowly dying for year
on endless year is much worse.


Don't ever forget, EVERY day you DON'T do something, is one less day you
will be ABLE to do that something.

All our family is healthy and my sister (53) has decided that instead
of trading gifts for birthdays/Christmas, we'll do "experiences". I
like it!

When I was in the Bay Area last week, we celebrated our birthdays by
going to an Indian restaurant for dinner and spent all of another day
at the beach/hills of Point Reyes on the Marin coastline. It was
beautiful and I won't soon forget the scenes we saw. I suggest that if
you want to honor your friend, see if she'll let you take her to some
place special like that which is local to you. And give her a big hug
from me.


------------------------------
Gator: The other white meat!
------------------------------
http://www.diversify.com Comprehensive Website Development

This kinda hits home. My father had a strong interest in woodworking,
and tried many a project. His designs were't the best, and his joinery
while strong, wasn't artistic.

However, he loved woodwork and he always felt very proud of all his
projects many which are still in use today.

When I started out in construction we built him a small shop, with a
radio for the Cowboys games, and a pot bellied stove for those
occasionally cold south Texas winters. Later in life he loved piddling
with that damn stove more than doing any kind of woodwork.

As my skills zoomed past his (me: 10 hours a day of woodwork, 5 days a
week; him: weekends when available and not too hot outside) he was less
anxious to do anything together. After a while, he became self
conscious of his self taught skills, and
wouldn't build anything without telling me "hell, I just threw this
together for your mother" and things like that. There was no reason
for the excuses... his work was fine. And considering the simple tools
he worked with (no table saw, no drill press, no router, a hard maple
miter box with a back saw, no sanding station, not even a really good
pair of horses because they took too much material) he did quite well.

Since he never really the type to try anything new and exciting and was
self conscious of HIS perceived lack of skills he drifted away from
woodworking. I believe this happens with any hobby, and he fell into a
slump with it. He needed a year or two of absence before rediscovering
his love of sawdust.

He was distracted by many things, most he cannot remember now. Sunday
football, too hot in the shop, nothing he really wanted to build... on
and on.

The he found out he had cancer. Depression. His generation (he is 80
now) looked at that as a death sentence. However, after 5 years of
manic depression and mild cancer treatment, he lived. Where did those
five years go? Unknown.

Then, at 59, his first stroke. At 61, a heart attack. Granted early
retirement due to disability at 62. With rest and no work pressure his
health came back pretty well. With no work, he vowed to start some of
those projects he had always talked about.

But too many habits of procrastination had already cemented themselves
to his life. For many and varied reasons he never quite got started on
any of those projects. Sometime at age 65 he had another stroke, and
that resilient sombitch came out of it with only a little paralysis.
This time though, he decided to quit smoking.

He started to make a few little weekend type projects, and was starting
to have some fun. He began to think of making a new set of shelves, a
new blanket chest, and some flower boxes. Now he was really getting
interested again.

Then another stroke. Followed by a "mini-stroke".
Then partial paralysis. Loss of feeling in hands, and has to drag his
left leg when he moves.

For about twelve years now, he has been unable to work with any kind of
tools, and in the last two years has been unable to get to the shop and
couldn't do anything if he could. Now, like a kid that has been told
he cannot have a certain video game, that is all he talks about. Oh
how he wishes now he hadn't wasted all that time in front of the TV on
Sunday watching the games... why didn't he start those big projects
when he retired... many questions that are eating him alive now.

So, as I am approaching the 1/2 century mark, I am acutely aware of the
fact that his first stroke and realistically the beginning of the end
of his only hobby was only 10 years away from my current age. And the
cruel fact that he has had another 20 years to sit and look at his idle
tools has not escaped me.

When I go to the woodturning meeting on Thursday, I always say a silent
thanks to God for the love of my life, as he ex-president of our club
lost his wife to cancer last year. She was 52, and was diagnosed with
stage 4 lung cancer (never smoked a day in her life) and was gone in
less than six months. He is so lost now, it makes me feel like I
should hug him every time I see him.

So... even though I do woodwork professionally, I still look at shop
time as a gift. My hands do not shake, my eyes still see details (with
glasses) and I try new techniques all the time.

Enjoy what you have, it is gone too soon to waste the time you are
given.

And Lew, my thoughts and prayers are with your friend.

Robert

wrote in news:1122387003.969477.226850
@g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com:

This kinda hits home. My father had a strong interest in woodworking,
and tried many a project. His designs were't the best, and his
joinery
while strong, wasn't artistic.

However, he loved woodwork and he always felt very proud of all his
projects many which are still in use today.

When I started out in construction we built him a small shop, with a
radio for the Cowboys games, and a pot bellied stove for those
occasionally cold south Texas winters. Later in life he loved
piddling
with that damn stove more than doing any kind of woodwork.

As my skills zoomed past his (me: 10 hours a day of woodwork, 5 days a
week; him: weekends when available and not too hot outside) he was
less
anxious to do anything together. After a while, he became self
conscious of his self taught skills, and
wouldn't build anything without telling me "hell, I just threw this
together for your mother" and things like that. There was no reason
for the excuses... his work was fine. And considering the simple
tools
he worked with (no table saw, no drill press, no router, a hard maple
miter box with a back saw, no sanding station, not even a really good
pair of horses because they took too much material) he did quite well.

Since he never really the type to try anything new and exciting and
was
self conscious of HIS perceived lack of skills he drifted away from
woodworking. I believe this happens with any hobby, and he fell into
a
slump with it. He needed a year or two of absence before
rediscovering
his love of sawdust.

He was distracted by many things, most he cannot remember now. Sunday
football, too hot in the shop, nothing he really wanted to build... on
and on.

The he found out he had cancer. Depression. His generation (he is 80
now) looked at that as a death sentence. However, after 5 years of
manic depression and mild cancer treatment, he lived. Where did those
five years go? Unknown.

Then, at 59, his first stroke. At 61, a heart attack. Granted early
retirement due to disability at 62. With rest and no work pressure
his
health came back pretty well. With no work, he vowed to start some of
those projects he had always talked about.

But too many habits of procrastination had already cemented themselves
to his life. For many and varied reasons he never quite got started
on
any of those projects. Sometime at age 65 he had another stroke, and
that resilient sombitch came out of it with only a little paralysis.
This time though, he decided to quit smoking.

He started to make a few little weekend type projects, and was
starting
to have some fun. He began to think of making a new set of shelves, a
new blanket chest, and some flower boxes. Now he was really getting
interested again.

Then another stroke. Followed by a "mini-stroke".
Then partial paralysis. Loss of feeling in hands, and has to drag his
left leg when he moves.

For about twelve years now, he has been unable to work with any kind
of
tools, and in the last two years has been unable to get to the shop
and
couldn't do anything if he could. Now, like a kid that has been told
he cannot have a certain video game, that is all he talks about. Oh
how he wishes now he hadn't wasted all that time in front of the TV on
Sunday watching the games... why didn't he start those big projects
when he retired... many questions that are eating him alive now.

So, as I am approaching the 1/2 century mark, I am acutely aware of
the
fact that his first stroke and realistically the beginning of the end
of his only hobby was only 10 years away from my current age. And the
cruel fact that he has had another 20 years to sit and look at his
idle
tools has not escaped me.

When I go to the woodturning meeting on Thursday, I always say a
silent
thanks to God for the love of my life, as he ex-president of our club
lost his wife to cancer last year. She was 52, and was diagnosed with
stage 4 lung cancer (never smoked a day in her life) and was gone in
less than six months. He is so lost now, it makes me feel like I
should hug him every time I see him.

So... even though I do woodwork professionally, I still look at shop
time as a gift. My hands do not shake, my eyes still see details
(with
glasses) and I try new techniques all the time.

Enjoy what you have, it is gone too soon to waste the time you are
given.

And Lew, my thoughts and prayers are with your friend.

Robert



Posts like this are one reason I hang out on the wReck. They are a
simple reminder to be human, humane, and to live our lives in context.

Thank you, Robert.

Patriarch

I posted this on July 26,2005.

________________________________
There was a time in my misspent youth when I was fond of saying to a
certain female, "Every day we don't make love is one day less we will be
able to make love". I was reminded of that comment from long ago when I
got a phone call late last week telling me that a mutual friend had gone
to the emergency room of a local hospital, complaining about not feeling
well. They discovered kidney cancer and admitted her immediately.
Exploratory surgery was conducted today. There will be no chemo, no
further surgery. She has at best, a few weeks. Don't ever forget, EVERY
day you DON'T do something, is one less day you will be ABLE to do that
something.

Lew
________________________________


Tomorrow morning we say good by to this gal.

One of her final requests was that we have a party at a local yacht club
as a memorial.

We shall comply starting on Friday afternoon.

Lew

In article t, Lew
Hodgett wrote:

Tomorrow morning we say good by to this gal.

One of her final requests was that we have a party at a local yacht club
as a memorial.

We shall comply starting on Friday afternoon.

Make it a helluva party.

djb

--
~ Stay Calm... Be Brave... Wait for the Signs ~
------------------------------------------------------
One site: http://www.balderstone.ca
The other site, with ww linkshttp://www.woodenwabbits.com

In article t,
Lew Hodgett wrote:

One of her final requests was that we have a party at a local yacht club
as a memorial.

What a wonderful opportunity for people to tell her (eulogize) how they
feel/felt about her and for her, hopefully, to be able to attend that
gathering.

Why do people have to die first before their friends gather around and
celebrate their lives?


The management of Palliative Care units, as well as Continuing Care and
Rehab, in 3 of our area hospitals, is amongst the responsibilities my
wife has in her job. I often listen to discussions about death and dying.
I hope your friend has the care and treatments available to her to make
her last days, on this planet, as comfortable as possible. In other
words, give her what she needs because this isn't the time to worry
about her getting addicted to anything. Simple quality of life, what is
left of it.

Lew, you are so right. There are NO guarantees we'll have a tomorrow to
enjoy. My favourite niece's husband in Witchita KS, 44 years old, never
woke up that morning last March 18. His freshly tied flies and fishing
pole were parked beside the garage door waiting for him that morning.

One never knows who's next.... or when.