Advice That Could Cost You Your Life. It Almost Cost Me Mine.

Four months after major cancer surgery, I had lost 80 pounds, spent time in hospice, and could barely walk without holding on to something. Everyone told me to take it easy. Then my surgeon, who wasn't even a Christian, gave me advice that changed the way I looked at the rest of my life.

It had been four months since they removed most of my stomach, spleen, and gallbladder, a portion of my liver, and some of my intestines. I was told the chemotherapy and radiation had aged my body by at least 15 years.

I had been out of hospice for about two months. I was told I would never gain that weight back and that, for the rest of my life, I would only be able to eat about a quarter of what a normal person eats. I would need infusions, vitamins, and supplements. I had to hold on to walls and handrails just to walk. And the likelihood of the cancer returning within a couple of years was pretty high.

Everyone was telling me the same thing: “Take it easy. Enjoy whatever life you have left.” Even my primary care doctor told me I would have no problem getting full disability.

It sounded reasonable. After all, I had been through a lot. Surely, I had earned the right to slow down.

Then came my last visit with the lead surgeon on the team that had performed my eight-hour cancer surgery. He wasn't a Christian, and he made that pretty clear whenever I mentioned Jesus. But I think he liked me. We had gotten to the point where we called each other by our first names. I suspect he really began to like me when I told him he charged too much and that, in the future, I planned to use a generic doctor instead.

You'll never get better by taking it easy.

During that final visit, I told him I was thinking about going on disability and taking it easy for whatever time I had left. He froze, looked me straight in the face, and very seriously said, “I will never sign off on that. You'll never get better by taking it easy. You need to get back to the shops and start repairing some cars as soon as possible.”

Then, without warning, he turned to his assistant, who had been taking notes, and said something that caught me completely off guard. "Show his account paid in full.”

I just sat there, trying to figure out what I had missed. I still owed him $700, and he had just forgiven the entire amount! He looked at me, grinned, and said, “Generic doctor, really?” Then he shook my hand, laughed, and walked out, saying, “I never want to see you again.”

I never forgot those words. God had given that surgeon the skill to perform a life-saving operation, but I believe He also gave him the message I desperately needed to hear. I needed to stop thinking about how much life I might have left and start thinking about what I could do with the life I still had.

I haven't always gotten that right, but I've tried to live by that lesson ever since. When I had my knee and hip replaced, I learned the importance of doing the work of rehabilitation. It wasn't easy, but within two weeks after open-heart surgery, I was back in Church. My Church family is important to me. And even now, I try to stay active and take care of the body God has given me.

I'm not telling you that because I have it all figured out. I don't. Some days are easier than others, and I have to remind myself of the same things I'm writing about here.

Besides, I'm not against taking it easy. I usually enjoy a midday nap, and there's not much I enjoy more than piling up on the sofa to watch a good ball game with my son and grandsons. An evening walk with Jean or sitting on the back patio listening to music and reading is hard to beat.

I've come to appreciate those simple pleasures more than ever. I just don't want to get so comfortable that I miss out on what life still has to offer.

The older you get, the easier it is to settle into doing less. Sometimes, the less we do, the less capable we feel. Our world can gradually get smaller, and before we realize it, we may have given up opportunities we still had the ability to enjoy.

I'm not suggesting we ignore our doctors, push through injuries, or pretend we're younger than we are. There's a difference between respecting our limitations and surrendering to them before we have to.

My surgeon wasn't telling me to be reckless. He was telling me not to give up.

Looking back, I realize my surgeon taught me something that day that had very little to do with cancer or surgery. It had to do with how we choose to live.

Sometimes, the advice that sounds the kindest isn't necessarily the advice we need most. There are times when we need to rest and recover. But we shouldn't let a difficult season convince us that our best days are behind us. We may still have people to love, things to learn, opportunities to serve, and a purpose God has yet to reveal.

My surgeon didn't promise me tomorrow. He challenged me to do something with today.

And that brings me to something I've been thinking about lately. I'm starting a pickleball club for men over 60. We're calling it The Dinkers.

We've got just three rules:

1. No running.

2. No diving.

3. No grunting without medical justification.

   
   

We know we're not 25 anymore. We're not trying to prove anything, and we're certainly not looking for a trip to the emergency room. But we still want to get out there, have some fun, stay active, and enjoy a little friendly competition.

After all, there's a difference between being smart enough to slow down and deciding you're too old to play. And that applies to more than pickleball.

Taking it easy may make life more comfortable, but it rarely accomplishes the things that make life meaningful. The things that matter most often require us to step out of our comfort zone, make an effort, and sometimes risk looking a little foolish.

Taking it easy is one thing. Taking yourself out of the game is another.

You can slow down without sitting down. You can play smarter without playing less. Growing older is inevitable. Giving up is optional.

Here's your Last Best Bite:

Maybe you can't run like you used to. Maybe you need a little more recovery time after a busy day. Maybe your idea of an extreme sport has changed considerably over the years. That's okay. Adjust the game. Change the pace. Just don't automatically assume it's time to leave the court.

Growing older is inevitable. Giving up is optional.

So find something that gets you moving, someone who makes you laugh, and a reason to get out of the house tomorrow. It doesn't have to be pickleball. It just needs to be something that reminds you there's still life to be lived.

And if you happen to join The Dinkers, remember our rules: no running, no diving, and absolutely no grunting without medical justification.

Because taking it easy is one thing. Taking yourself out of the game is another.

The road ahead may be steep at times, but God still has a reason for you to keep moving.