THE REST OF MY BOUNTIFUL LIFE

JANUARY 4, 2022 – Twelve days ago I was convicted of a capital crime in a foreign land. I’m innocent (I swear!), but from this verdict there’s no appeal—not in the province of multiple myeloma inside the People’s Democratic Republic of Cancer.

Yesterday, after the pre-sentencing investigation, I stood before the “judge,” Dr. Bhaskar Kolla. He dispensed not justice but mercy in the form of empathy, intelligence, education, and expertise. Nevertheless, by mandatory sentencing guidelines he was forced to consign me to (immuno-compromised) confinement inside a prison where various forms of torture (treatment side-effects) are routine. But no firing squad at sunrise.

Handcuffed with wristbands from lab and clinic, I summoned humor. When handed off to “Imaging,” I told the receptionist, “I’m here to improve my image.” She then humored me with her laughter. In the imaging room, a woman operated a computer inside a booth while her male assistant scurried repeatedly onto the floor to adjust the x-ray machine. In addressing the woman, I spoke to the guy as well: “Okay, I get it. He’s the ground crew, and you’re actually flying the aircraft.” Their spontaneous laughter put me at ease. When “ground crew” fetched a stool for me (for a better shot of my tibia), I stepped aboard and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, in these stressful times I invite your applause for all healthcare providers!” More laughter plus . . . hearty applause and spirits uplifted.

Ordinarily, I eschew “medical talk,” but my journey will generate lots of images.

For perspective, start here:

For over 18 years I’ve been alive thanks to cosmic timing beyond scientific, spiritual, or intuitive understanding. During this period, I’ve lived such an abundant life, it owes me nothing further.

I recall the day in downtown Minneapolis when a friend three blocks away phoned to say, “Let’s grab lunch. Meet you here.” It was already past noon. Outside my building, I hit the ground running—and kept running, across the plaza in front of the Federal Courthouse, then along Fourth Street.

A dedicated bus lane had recently opened along my side of the street and ran opposite the one-way traffic in the remaining lanes. I hadn’t adjusted to this new configuration. I looked only at oncoming traffic, and as I sauntered, I decided to dash across Fourth before the accelerating vehicles reached me. I made a sharp, 90-degree turn from the sidewalk straight into . . . the bus lane. Until that moment, I’d been oblivious to a bus approaching fast but quietly behind me, out of view.

A zeptosecond separated “He died instantly” from my bountiful life since.  The big, rushing vehicle passed so closely it opened my suit coat and nearly sucked the pen out of my shirt pocket. The driver slammed on his brakes. Bus and world stood motionless while time caught its breath.

Shaking, I continued. Seconds later, my Blackberry rang. My wife was calling. She asked if I could pick up our boys after school. I said, “Yes” . . . to the rest of my bountiful life.

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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson