Yesterday I had an appointment with my hematologist/oncologist. I meet with him three or four times a year, usually on the day when I have one of my monthly IVIG treatments. This time I was told that he wanted to see me in between treatments. This raised a red flag in my brain.

I was worried that maybe there was something wrong. I told myself that if there were something wrong he would have seen me right away. Nevertheless, as I drove to Southampton I had my worry hat on.

Going to the doctor never really bothers me or causes me any stress but sometimes I think about the time I took my car in for an oil change and was told my gillhoooly rod was out of whack. My care doesn’t have a gillhooly rod and probably your’s doesn’t either but mechanics have a language all their own and I throw myself on their mercy whenever my car is in the shop. So, despite feeling well and anticipating that I would have a good check up result, I still had a little angst as I was driving for my appointment.

I began to think what would happen if I were given bad news. How would my view of the world change? Bucket lists are big these days and I hate that concept. I have been fortunate in getting just about everything I ever wanted. Of course, a Ranger win last night would have really made me happy, but aside from thatI have just about what I need.

But the thing that scares me most about bucket lists is that they seem to be so finite. It’s a list after all and has a beginning and an end. What happens if you achieve all your list items? Do you merely check out and say Ta Ta everyone? It’s not for me.

I have always subscribed to the concept that Wanting is better than Having. How many times in our lives have we pursued a goal or a purchase only to achieve our heart’s desire and say, “Is that all there is?”

Having an unrealized goal keeps us hungry, keeps us in motion, keeps us alive. “I won’t have a bucket list,” I tell myself. But I will see things differently if I get bad news.

It’s a short drive from East Quogue to Southampton but I wasn’t even out of Hampton Bays when, talking to myself (it’s how I write), I say, “Why do I have to wait for Bad News in order to see things differently? Why not let Good News make you see things differently. I finish this thought as I get into the village of Southampton. As I pass the Southampton Movie Theater I note that “The Fault In Our Stars” is playing. Oh Bugger!

This only sidetracks me for a second and I continue my self-examination regarding seeing things differently. I decide that I must change my view of life. Lately I have bemoaned my commute much more than I ever have in the last thirty years. I always was able to put a positive spin on commuting three hours each way every day. The train was my “Den on wheels” where I could read and listen to music and commune with my thoughts. It’s where I could write and record my life experience. I could even have a beer on the ride home. But lately it has been unbearable.

I vowed in my newfound sense of self that I would enjoy the ride.

Then, as I got deeper into the Village, I was just about to let “let little things bother me” as my mother would say. It was like a smack at the back of my head when I knew for certain that the train was not the only ride I must enjoy.

I long for the day when my train ride is over. Retirement seems like a vacation to me. Maybe it shouldn’t? Maybe I shouldn’t be so eager to get off the train? Maybe it’s the ride that matters most when all is said and done?

I had a good report from my doctor. In fact, we talked more about the Rangers than we did about me. He said I was doing great but Nash and Richards had to score.

The ride continues and I mean to enjoy it.