It might appear The Ogler is in hibernation, based on the recent paucity of posts. Appearances, in this instance, don't deceive. After all, it’s been cold, snowy and dark for weeks and what better time to hunker down and simply luxuriate in the warm glow of home and hearth?
It’s true the purpose of this blog can be called into question when I have nothing of an overtly medical nature to report. The Ogler has shed readers like Chrysler has shed buyers. I’m happy for that on both counts. All is well with my body, so far as I can tell. I resume teaching this week, I’m continuing to run outside through all forms of wintery weather, and I sleep at night like a baby. I even went to realage.com and was told that despite a chronological age of 55.4, I’m really only 47. According to the actuarial charts, that means I have another 35 years to live. Realage.com didn’t inquire very closely about my melanoma—obviously.
What looms over me for the foreseeable future are quarterly CT scans—the next one will be mid-March—and the ever-present possibility of a recurrence. That’s a challenge to my spirit, and if my last go-round is any indication, this routine is never likely to become, well, routine. In the face of the uncertainties of my health, I’ve resolved to live fearlessly, which is not a bad idea for any of us in all circumstances. I trust that God is in control and that the damn CT scans won’t get the better of me. Beyond that, I’m in a good place mentally and looking forward to the give and take with college students starting tonight.
I’m still working on small questions, like: How do we integrate life in this world with the world to come? And: How do we prepare for an existence in eternity? I’ll be posting later on some of my half-baked musings.