I woke up forty-three years ago and started forming memories, most of which are vague now, but I must’ve been told often and with intensity that my name was "Michael Anthony Oppenheim," because I tell everyone to call me that and when people use it, I turn around and pay attention.
Early on, I noticed that all the people around me had one thing in common: Trying to have things in common with others. I didn't phrase or conceptualize it that way, but I noticed it because it was the only way to make friends, so I started doing it, all day, every day, and it still affects me to this day.
When I was nine, my parents moved us across town, which created my first bad memory, as it meant I had to attend a new school and say bye to my friends at my old one. Being "the new kid" was hard, and based on my body weight two years later, I must’ve overeaten to deal with my feelings of frustration.
But who cares? I persevered and made friends, one of whom was the best man in my wedding 35 years later, when I was 40. So how could I complain, right? But when I was nine? I complained. A lot.
Nine years later, in 1999, I graduated high school, 100 pounds overweight with the self-esteem one expects to see in a suicidal fat kid who’s ashamed of his body and depressed after being teased every day in P.E. class for three years for the consequences of consuming more calories than he burns.
Depressed, and demoralized, I woke up a month into my freshman year of college in a soaking wet bed, but it wasn't urine. It was sweat, accompanied by terrible nausea. I didn't know what to do, so I went to class, but midway into the lecture my vision grew hazy, so I left for a water fountain, and the next thing I knew I was lying down, staring up at a crowd of classmates, my professor, and a team of EMTs.
After hours of extensive testing, an ER doctor told me I had "Non-Hodgkins lymphoma," a form of cancer, and it was very important I fight it immediately. My mom flew out the next day, and in the coming weeks I was tested and re-tested as my body continued to sweat, resist food, and lose weight.
One night, I found myself staring at this new website, WebMD, where I’d looked up "Non-Hodgkins lymphoma” so I could read about how I would die. I started crying, and in what became one of the most powerful moments of my life, I felt a presence both inside and beyond me, and suddenly "knew" this disease was the answer to my prayers in high school to die because I was so miserable about being fat.
That same presence then conveyed to me that I had a choice: I could stop pitying myself and live a long, full life, or I could continue my self-loathing and lose all that weight I hated, then die.
I chose to live, and the next morning I felt great and was able to eat a ton of food. Then, when I went to the doctor later that week, all the blood tests suddenly said I was fine. “It must’ve been a virus,” the doctors said. Bewildered and thankful, my mom left, I resumed my classes, and I never got tested again.
In case you aren't paying close attention (who would?) I moved when I was 9 and had the cancer scare at 18, which doesn't sound weird, but when you add the story of how a car nearly killed me at 27, and then note how my ex-wife abducted our son when I was 36, you may also notice a “trend of nine years.”
What’s the point of this story? For you? To laugh at me. For me? I’m turning 44 this month and now wondering: Will something happen again in a year, at 45? Who cares! I’m just thankful for what these four events taught me: Life feels awfully short, so it’s wise to love, laugh, and forgive while you can.
This week on Coffin Talk: Dr. Lynn Banis is no stranger to grief. In three short years, she lost her mom, little brother, and husband. With a PhD in human behavior and decades of experience in coaching, Lynn knew she had the tools to help others. That’s why she created Widows Rising Together - to help grieving men and women overcome loneliness and rediscover joy and purpose in life. Listen HERE.
I like this - subtle themes about intuition, numerology and manifestation. All things I believe in.
Good luck and love! A stitch in time saves nine?