Live Like You’re Dying


Cancer stinks.

While in the hospital I met an elderly woman, a fellow patient who had undergone surgery the same morning I did, named Carol. One morning, as I was walking the halls of 6 Main with Jen, we stopped to talk with Carol. She told us she was seventy-one and had surgery for a tumor. When Jen asked her how the surgery went, Carol’s face clouded and she replied, “They couldn’t get it out.” She was terminal. Her only hope is a new treatment they’re trying at a hospital in Boston.

But in talking with Carol, we could both tell her only real hope is that she’ll be able to hold her only granddaughter, due in May.

Then Carol asked us about us and I actually felt guilty telling her my tumor had been removed.

I don’t know what Carol was going through. I tried to put myself in her shoes, to go through a surgery like I did only to be told the tumor remained and was inoperable after all. I tried to imagine how I would feel. How I would deal with such news. Would I just give up? Throw in the towel and succumb to death’s immenint arrival? I hope not. I hope I would live each day to its fullest, experience life for all its worth. I hope I would love to the fullest, laugh my hardest, throw off all worries and mundane cares and really live. I hope I would take every chance to tell others about the change Jesus made in my life and the hope I have after this life. I hope I would touch the lives of others in a positive, memorable way; leave fingerprints where they won’t soon rub off.

But you know what? Why would it take being told I have terminal cancer to make me live like that? No one knows what today or tomorrow brings; no one knows when their appointment with death will come due. Shouldn’t I live every day like my days are numbered?

* * * * *
In book news, I updated my website and you can now read the first chapter of The Hunted and watch the video trailer for the book. It’s all on the home page of my website, www.mikedellosso.com.
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About mikedellosso

Mike Dellosso is an author of wide-eyed suspense. He writes stories that not only entertain but enlighten.

Posted on April 28, 2008, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Mike,I found your blog when looking up information about your book. I have been following your story and keeping you in prayer.Today’s post is especially meaningful to me as I buried a friend yesterday who was killed in a car accident Friday morning. She was 30 years old. Mike, her testimony of God’s miraculous power to change lives was amazing! Her parents ability to stand and share her story was God’s strength alone!Truly, we should all live as if we were dying. God can use us when we stop clinging to this earthly life so tightly.Thanks for writing from the heart! I’m a CFBA member and am looking forward to touring your book!Kim

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  2. Hi, Mike …Glad to hear your ‘voice’ again.Live like you’re dying! God loves you and is in control!Often, I can’t live like I’m living. Too often, it seems like nobody is in control.Sometimes these kind words sound like oxymorons. (Not regular morons, but oxygen-stared morons from outer space.)I subscribe to this oxey-moxie, “Hang on for dear life!”Sometimes, that’s all we can do. The water is deep, the current is swift and unpredictable. And all we’ve got are two fists wrapped around a branch and a hope for calm water. Personally, I think it’s in the ‘hanging’ that we honor God. There are no guarantees for calm water. But we hand on anyway, because we believe in Him.You’re friend, David, aslo said something like this. “I would have fainted dead away if I didn’t know one thing – I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living.”Hang on, brother. We’re still in the land and calm water is coming.Get well,Terry

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  3. Hey Mike. So glad to get your newsletter today, and to catch up with you here since your surgery. My prayers never stopped for you, and in fact, I went into surgery to have my thyroid removed just two days after you. The mass that was growing into my esophagus was removed without complication, so I’m grateful for that. Just wanted you to know I’m still praying for you and your precious family.Blessings in Christ,Vicki

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