This is a picture of my dog and I atop McDonald Pass in Montana. McDonald Pass separates Helena from some smaller towns en route to Missoula. It has an elevation of 6300 feet. Most passes seem to connect smaller towns with larger cities.
I kind of feel today like I’m on a pass. I feel, as though I’m somewhere in the middle of something I just can’t put my finger on. Remember that great Neil Diamond song “I am … I said?” It has those great metaphoric lines:
Well, I'm New York City born and raised
But nowadays, I'm lost between two shores
As write this I think I have come to the nub of it all.
I am atop the pass having just left the safety of my small town where I was safe and healthy. I know what is what like where I was and if I wanted to look back I could see the indistinct outline of before. But from the top of this pass looking forward I can see the equally indistinct city as laid out in front of me in a valley of unknown. I get the sense of the totality of the valley, without actually knowing any of the individuality of the city. Even so, I must move forward to the risk and hope; I can only stay on the pass for a moment.
Blinding Flash of the Obvious!
I have it, I have it! This is what Frost was talking about in his poem. I never considered it this way.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Other thoughts
I am closing the loop on several issues; all left brain stuff.
- 1. Need to make an appointment with my primary care doc to make sure we have a good communications process in place before I start chemo. Like in the Army, communications is the key to winning. I have some anxiety concerning the commo between primary care doctors, insurance, and specialists. They all seem so disparate.
- 2. I have to run up to the office and sit with the HR ladies and clarify the rules for my short-term disability. Again another commo challenge. Who asks for extensions, etc?
- 3. I need to stop by my boss’s office and update her on the plan and how long I’ll be out of action.
- 4. I have to go to my oncologist’s office and get my pre-chemo evaluation. I am not quite sure what this means, but I think they tell me how the schedule for the next six months will go.
I know these are important issues, but somehow they seem to only hit the periphery of what’s going on. Oh well. I wonder if all this is an attempt by me to gain control over a process that seems like a Hydra, with each head having its own focus and priority. The problem of course is there is little integration between doctor, insurers, and employers.
Stream of consciousness alert: I wonder if there is business opportunity for a professional service, which integrates all the pieces and parts for sick people? hmmmmmm
But right brain stuff has to count too and I am wrestling with the creative; philosophical; symbols and images component of it all. Is there even a right brain component, or is it all science? I guess the right brain stuff starts with an expectation of success, or more accurately, a belief that I will ultimately win.
Excuse the scattered nature of this post, but the pass metaphor and the Robert Frost thing took hold of me.
Peace,
Bill
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