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Oliver Sacks on Learning He Has Terminal Cancer By OLIVER SACKS NYT FEB. 19, 2015 A MONTH ago, I felt that I was in good health, even robust health. At 81, I still swim a mile a day. But my luck has run out — a few weeks ago I learned that I have multiple metastases in the liver. Nine years ago it was discovered that I had a rare tumor of the eye, an ocular melanoma. Although the radiation and lasering to remove the tumor ultimately left me blind in that eye, only in very rare cases do such tumors metastasize. I am among the unlucky 2 percent. I feel grateful that I have been granted nine years of good health and productivity since the original diagnosis, but now I am face to face with dying. The cancer occupies a third of my liver, and though its advance may be slowed, this particular sort of cancer cannot be halted. It is up to me now to choose how to live out the months that remain to me. I have to live in the richest, deepest, most productive way I can. In this I am encouraged by the words of one of my favorite philosophers, David Hume, who, upon learning that he was mortally ill at age 65, wrote a short autobiography in a single day in April of 1776. He titled it “My Own Life.” “I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution,” he wrote. “I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits. I possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety in company.” I have been lucky enough to live past 80, and the 15 years allotted to me beyond Hume’s three score and five have been equally rich in work and love. In that time, I have published five books and completed an autobiography (rather longer than Hume’s few pages) to be published this spring; I have several other books nearly finished. Hume continued, “I am ... a man of mild dispositions, of command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions.” Here I depart from Hume. While I have enjoyed loving relationships and friendships and have no real enmities, I cannot say (nor would anyone who knows me say) that I am a man of mild dispositions. On the contrary, I am a man of vehement disposition, with violent enthusiasms, and extreme immoderation in all my passions. And yet, one line from Hume’s essay strikes me as especially true: “It is difficult,” he wrote, “to be more detached from life than I am at present.” Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life. On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight. This will involve audacity, clarity and plain speaking; trying to straighten my accounts with the world. But there will be time, too, for some fun (and even some silliness, as well). I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends. I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming. This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands. I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death. I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers. Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure. Oliver Sacks, a professor of neurology at the New York University School of Medicine, is the author of many books, including “Awakenings” and “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.” http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/19/opinion/oliver-sacks-on-learning-he-has-terminal-cancer.html?_r=0

. . . and seventeen calls from AdamSmith. He says he found your gym bag. He can be reached at the Peabody.

http://kfor.com/2015/02/19/video-shows-precious-pups-waking-up-their-owners/

There are some cuties in there for sure. I don't know who I am rooting for but the blond country boy has a bit of my heart. LOL Riley Bria And, damn, that hot sexy well dressed (wild looking) guy from New Orleans is amazing. Quentin Alexander is his name and you had better remember it! Joey Cook is incredible. I really like her. http://americanidolnet.com/american-idol-spoilers-american-idol-2015-top-24-singers-revealed/

So that's what a serial comma is. Well my 8th grade English teacher had no use for the Oxford comma, so (she being my final authority on all things grammatical) neither do I. Except, of course, when absolutely necessary to avoid ambiguity. One mustn't be too dogmatic on these things. Unless one is engaged in an on-line debate; then one must be as dogmatic as possible.

It occurs to me that, since I have not the slightest idea of what a "serial comma" might be, perhaps I ought be a little more cautious in vigorously defending my position. I don't suppose any of you folks would be willing to explain the office of a serial comma for me, would you?

Say what? ----- I think it only fair (to me) to point out that I did acknowledge in my initial post that some might say that my writing skills, if closely scrutinized, could just possibly be considered a teeny tiny bit erratic at times. Maybe. Besides I submit that any deficiency I may display in the use of serial commas is entirely down to my long association with Chance, a delightful boy whose idiosyncratic writing style may be bleeding over into mine on occasion. ==== And to AdamSmith: I still think my initial post is a fair send up of the arguments presented in the article to which you linked us. Concise but fair, that's my motto. Oh, and never pedantic! Concise but fair and never pedantic, that's my motto. Hmm, kind, diplomatic? And carefully thought out, of course! So: Concise but fair and never pedantic and kind and diplomatic and carefully...

He abjured the serial comma and it wasn't hard to see that sooner more than later a frisson would come to be for I had some things to say to him and no doubt he to me but if punctuation had no role it would drive me up a tree.

Well now, AS, for the life of me I can't recall the last time I spoke a sentence that required a serial comma for comprehension. Just saying.

But you abjure the serial comma even when it would help comprehension. Rigid purist! That's my last Duchess painted on the wall. I've scraped, but cannot get her off at all.

==== Tempest in a teapot, AdamSmith. The correct answer is simple enough. I speak Standard English (mileage varies on my written version). Anyone more punctilious than I is a pompous twit. Anyone less is an ignorant buffoon. Problem solved. If you've been worrying your pretty head about anything else lately, I'm always here to help.

You might be interested to know that the ducks have to be "rotated" away from the hotel so they can "dry out". Seems that staying in water all that time is not good for even ducks. But, you knew too much water is not good for anyone, didn't you? Best regards, RA1

Just like the Mississippi Delta starts with the steps on the Hotel Peabody. Sure the planters met there but the delta starts 40 miles south. Best regards, RA1

Don't forget to lube up first.

Even so, assuming I could keep my clone off smokes and the bottle + trot it around the block every couple days, it would be some way ahead of me.

My wife left a post-it note on the fridge, “I'm sorry. It’s not working, I can’t take it anymore! I've gone to stay at my Dad’s." I opened the fridge, the light came on and the beer was cold. Not sure what she was talking about!

There was a family gathering, with all generations around the table. Mischievous teenagers put a Viagra tablet into Grandpa's drink, and after a while, Grandpa excused himself because he had to go to the bathroom. When he returned, however, his trousers are wet all over. 'What happened, Grandpa?' asked his concerned children. 'Well,' he answered, 'I don't really know. I had to go to the bathroom; so I took it out and started to pee, but then, I saw that it wasn't mine, so I put it back!'

Two young guys appear in court after being arrested for smoking dope. The judge says, "You seem like nice young men, and I'd like to give you a second chance instead of jail time. I want you to go out this weekend and try to convince others of the evils of drug use. I'll see you back in court Monday." On Monday, the judge asks the first guy, "How did you do over the weekend?" "Well, your honor, I persuaded 17 people to give up drugs forever." "Seventeen people? That's wonderful. How did you do it? " "I used a diagram, your honor. I drew two circles like this: Oo . Then I told them that the big circle is your brain before drugs and the small circle is your brain after drugs." "That's admirable," says the judge. Then he turns to the second guy. "And how did you do?" "Well, your honor, I persuaded 156 people to give up drugs forever." "Wow!" says the judge. "156 people! How did you manage to do that?" "Well, I used a similar diagram," the guy says. "I drew two circles like this: oO . Then I pointed to the little circle and said, 'This is your asshole before prison...'"

A guy is driving around the back woods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house: 'Talking Dog For Sale' He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the back yard. The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador Retriever sitting there. 'You talk?' he asks. 'Yep,' the Lab replies. After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says 'So, what's your story?' The Lab looks up and says, 'Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA. 'In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping. 'I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. 'But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. 'I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired.' The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog. 'Ten dollars,' the owner says. 'Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?' 'Because he's a bullshitter. He's never been out of the yard.'

Three friends -- two straight guys and a gay guy -- and their significant others were on a cruise. A tidal wave came up and swamped the ship; they all drowned, and next thing you know, they're standing before St. Peter. First came one of the straight guys and his wife. St. Peter shook his head sadly. "I can't let you in. You loved money too much. You loved it so much, you even married a woman named Penny." Then came the second straight guy. "Sorry, can't let you in, either. You loved food too much. You loved to eat so much, you even married a woman named Candy!" The gay guy turned to his boyfriend and whispered nervously, "It doesn't look good, Dick."