2017…wow, what a year. It’s always interesting to ponder what a year might bring. At the onset of each year, the outlook often depends the prior year. A great year? The hope is that the next year is as good as the last. An “average” year? Some people set goals. Others are happy to accept more of the same. Still others strive for something different, but are unsure what the “something different” looks like.

A bad year? Well, this is an interesting concept to me. What is it, exactly, that defines a bad year? In itself, the word “bad” leaves little room for an objective opinion. I mean, bad is bad, right? It doesn’t really matter to what degree it is bad for the individual who has said it’s bad. To him/her, it simply means it was a bad year. So, I like to wordsmith a bit and consider that I’ve never really had a bad year. I’ve had challenging years that have varied in their degree of effort to move forward. As I have for many years, I’ve accepted that everything happens for a reason, and that it is ultimately for my higher good. And, I’ve also come to realize that it’s not usually obvious, and almost always takes a good bit of time to understand. But my faith says it will someday be known.

This year was a year of many challenges. The progression of health issues for my trusted canine friend (Diesel—my kid) was, at times, almost incomprehensible. February brought partial facial paralysis. April brought the knowledge of a small tumor on his thyroid. Three nervous months brought lots of research on the Internet, conversations with my older brother (the veterinarian), and scenarios ranging from doomsday to minor inconvenience.

And then September came. A series of diagnostic tests brought the reality into view very, very quickly. I remember sitting in the room with the surgeon as if it happened yesterday. She told me that the CT scan was extended beyond the thyroid to his chest, as sometimes thyroid tumors are influenced by other problems lower in the body. And, although that wasn’t the situation here, what was found was startling. The preliminary results indicated that he had a heart base tumor. The tumor was inoperable, as it is surrounded by vessels/veins that make it impossible to safely remove. I know I sat there with a stone-cold face, as she was prodding me for some level of a response. She told me that there was another dog with a very similar situation that went through the treatment option she suggested: removal of the sac around the heart (to relieve any pressure on the heart), and radiation treatments to shrink the tumor. She felt the prognosis was good, as the other dog (whose name I cannot remember) responded very well to the treatment.

She asked me to give it some thought and to let her know, but that it should be addressed very soon. When she said that to me, my answer was immediate: “I don’t need time to think.” The surgery was scheduled for 5 days later. (The soonest she could see him.) The radiation consultation was scheduled for two days later. (The soonest that doctor could see him.) And the radiation treatments were scheduled to begin two weeks after the surgery was performed. (The soonest that was recommended after a major surgery.)

Neither the doctor nor I understood just how dire this was after the first diagnosis. The tumor was actually constricting both major arteries, and the left side of his heart. Without the treatment, this was certain death. And so, I reflect on the situation. And I see that, indeed, everything happens for a reason. In February, I couldn’t have known that the facial paralysis would ultimately save his life. And as I think about the number of times I told my friends and family that my poor guy just can’t catch a break, I realize that he did, indeed, catch the ultimate break.

When I picked Diesel up from surgery, I had come to grasp the reality of canine ownership. I made the comment to my friend, “Someday, I won’t be able to fix it.” But for now, I will continue to enjoy the time I do have with the friend who never sees anything but the good in me.

Plans Versus Reality

The number of times I wanted to get back home this year were outweighed by the number of times something came up to prevent my quest. Diesel took the lion’s share of my focus. Between doctor visits, strict medication schedules, and ongoing supervision at home, the time I had to “be me” was sparse.

In late July, however, I was able to get back to see the family with my older brother (Josh). After some persuasion, I was able to convince Josh to go back to Illinois. It’d been a good while since he’d been back to see the family, and I really wanted him to get to know his nieces and nephews. And, as importantly, I wanted them to get to know him.

There were many efforts across the siblings (Josh, Jason, Jayme, and me) to find the right schedule. And although we weren’t quite able to reach an achievable consensus of where to meet (it was originally going to be a group visit to a Cubs game in Chicago), we did manage to pound out some plans that worked for all of us.

Josh and I met in Chicago, at which point we drove down to be with the rest of the family. Josh stayed with Aunt Willadene, and I stayed with my surrogate-older sister/cousin (Annie). It was a really fun time, and remarkably relaxing. Naturally, I made good use of the local YMCA for my fitness activities.

Josh and I drove back to Chicago, where we were able to enjoy a day of “Josh and Joel time.” For the first eight years of my life, and first twelve of his (roughly), we grew up in the Chicago area. And although there wasn’t any specific landmark (outside of the John Hancock building) that triggered any memories, our minds were able to trigger many. Josh, of course, wins in the battle of childhood memories. For whatever reason, memories across the first eight years of my life elude me.

My belief that I’d be able to return home for Thanksgiving or Christmas were also thwarted by responsibilities at home. But, again, a reason to be home for Thanksgiving became apparent. I had the honor of spending some time with someone special—someone whose path intersected mine at the right time. (Two Thanksgiving meals that day!)

My Own Blue Skies

I continued my flying throughout the year. When people first learn that I’m a pilot, more often than not they remark that it must be very relaxing to fly. I usually smile, and say that piloting an aircraft is anything but relaxing. A pilot that relaxes while flying is a pilot that is tempting fate. What flying does do is allow me to leave anything that is on my mind on the ground. As soon as I’m in the air, any thoughts I had before beginning my pre-flight on the aircraft are left behind. So, I suppose one could consider that it is relaxing in that I’m not worrying about whatever is on my mind on the ground.

I had the opportunity to take someone (Lee) up for his first flight in a private aircraft. At the onset of any flight that is new to someone, the first worry I have is whether or not motion sickness will prevail. I was relieved to see that he had no predisposition to motion sickness. Not only that, when I turned over the task of maintaining an altitude and heading to him, he quickly proved that he is a natural-born pilot. If only it had come so naturally to me when I began my training!

More of the Mundane

Outside of the challenges with Diesel’s health, and the fate of meeting a new copilot, the rest of the year was driven by the daily activities most people live. The search for the right contractor to replace my roof was a fun experience—though probably not so much for the contractor who was expecting a signed contract, but instead received a redlined version. He opted not to accept my changes, and I ended up with a cheaper alternative that had a reasonable contract (my version). The creative aspects of this endeavor were a bit annoying (Color of the roof—um, gosh, I don’t know—does it really matter?!), but ultimately the finished product was one that met my expectations. Although, the contractor did say I was the first homeowner that had ever taken drone video footage of the finished product to see if it met expectations. Trust, but verify, I always say.

The Year Ahead

I’m not going to wish for a better year. I’ve come to realize that the year will go exactly as it must. And although I can set goals (which I have), it will ultimately come down to whatever fate will bring. And, as noted earlier, I may not understand the challenging times, but I know they will someday reveal their meaning. I will continue to embrace the obvious joys that come my way, and continue with the hopes and dreams that make me smile each day. They, too, will manifest in a way that I hadn’t considered. This is what makes life fun.

My goals? Well (in order of thought, not importance):

• More flying
• More pictures
• More travel
• New experiences
• Time with Diesel
• Family visits
• Better running statistics
• Better biking statistics
• A stronger core
• Lots of laughter
• Lots of smiles
• Bringing happiness to someone else
• Being with someone who inspires me
• Living each day to the fullest

We’ll know, and the end of 2018, if my goals mapped to what the year was supposed to bring to me.