After dinner at a friend’s, someone posed the question: if you were independently wealthy, say you have $10million, what would you do?
Someone mentioned starting his own business, someone wanted to become an architect, most people would travel, and perhaps charity. My mind was a blank. I remember at another occasion being asked this question a few years ago, my answer was pretty standard then, travelling, and perhaps charity.
But it doesn’t seem to matter so much now. Of course I still like travelling, as I’m getting ready for my next trip. But it just doesn’t seem to have as much thrill. The past year have changed my perspective, I presume.
Almost exactly a year ago I was confined to a hospital bed, scared, in pain, fearing for the worst.
It turned out that I don’t have a life-threatening disease (not immediate anyway). The name of what I have, is “Minimal Change”, which is an interesting name. It’s thus named because the physical change in the kidneys is minimal – not observable under a light microscope, but only with an electronic one.
Once it’s under treatment, the physical evidence could seem minimal as well, even to myself. I don’t experience sharp pain or look visibly ill, but something is not right and I know it. I can no longer walk for more than a couple of hours without thinking: Am I tiring myself out? Will I get a relapse?
And the treatment is the double-edged sword. Prednisone puts the disease under control, but has its own side effects and potential side effects. The fact that I’m typing away at 7am probably is largely due to its effects (which is a pretty minor one).
Bottom line is, I’m not going to die anytime soon, and hopefully won’t need a kidney transplant ever. But after the second relapse, it started to sink in that I might have to live with this for a long time: minimal change, and prednisone.
Slowly I think, I begin to grasp that life can no longer be the same as it was when I was a healthy person, and that changed my perspective, perhaps even before I fully realized it. So it is a life of minimal change, in outward appearance. Minimal, but the change is there, and in someways it might be a profound one. I think, I can no longer take certain things for granted, and that give things different meanings. And maybe, it made me realize that time is finite. I thought I understand this concept before, but now it seems more than just a concept.
That perspective change doesn’t necessarily translate to any real change in life, after all it is “minimal”. I am approaching things with a more “just do it” attitude now more often, with mixed results.
On new year’s day, we were in Bimini, exploring the shipwreck SS Sapona, a concrete-hulled cargo steamer that ran aground in 1926. One popular challenging thing to do here is to climb up on top of the wreck and then jump off (some 30 feet). It’s a tricky climb on some jagged and slippery metal, with the help with a rope. Every one else had gone up, including my 13-year-old niece. As I tred in the water in the wreck, I was shaking with cold (having snorkeled around the ship in pretty strong currents) and nerves. I worried if this activity was too much for me – I was just tapering down my prednisone then. But I thought, we were here and now in the very spot in the big blue ocean, which I doubt I’d ever come again, might as well do it. And I did, and then I jumped off the ship, and it was quite exhilarating. That was my first “just do it” moment of the year.
3 weeks later back in San Francisco, a little Westie mix named Coco sat on Matthew’s lap as we drove across the Golden Gate Bridge. We had just adopted this little dog into our lives. Having never had a pet before in my life, this was pretty big for me. I had always thought pets would be a lot of trouble, and was even a little afraid of dogs. But having met both Charlie with my sister, and Jessie with my cousin, I began to think maybe I could have a dog as well. I searched on craiglist and we look around in shelters. One day it just happened that we met this lively little dog in a park in Mills Valley. He was cute, and seemed friendly, so we took him home. It felt unreal. It still does.
The little dog turned out to be a lot of trouble in reality as I imagined in concept. We adore him and he is a pain in the ass. From time to time we talked about sending him back, and other times were smitten. Coco is a not just a minimal change in our lives.
So, I’m not sure where this is going. I’m just rambling because I guess, it startled me a little that I don’t have much in my mind when asked what I’d do with $10million and it didn’t seem to matter. Maybe I just hope I can have a “normal” life, and enjoy whatever comes if I can, and keep calm through the inevitable ups and downs. Now I must go and feed Coco.