A few random ramblings…

My wednesday night futsal team, Trojans, has just played their first ever B-League Grand Final.

Going into the match, I was quietly confident… I know my team mates rise to challenges and the team we were playing, we’d managed to beat in both rounds during fixtures.

But it’s funny how life never quite goes the way you planned…and how news can leave you thinking about the things that really matter.

If you’re not living in a cave, and you’ve seen any kind of news today, you’ll know that Heath Ledger, a great Australian actor, was found dead this morning. Both Laura and I are big fans of his work, and we’re both looking forward to ‘The Dark Knight’ coming out mid-year. Hearing the news of his untimely passing definitely hung a cloud over the house this morning.

But that I could easily deal with… after all, I’m a fan, but I don’t know the guy.

So, today I tried to just plow through the work, but all the while I’m distracted… the thoughts of tonights game making my adrenaline rush, with nerves were coming on strong.

But as the afternoon progressed, Laura gave me a piece of news that leaves me having to put a futsal game into perspective.

A good friend of hers… an ex-boyfriend at that… has just been diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease. The prognosis he’s been given is not promising, with the doctors giving him 5 years at most.

In the light of that… losing a futsal match pales in importance. And there is nothing I can really say about my teammates… they all played their hearts out… it’s just the way of sports. Anyone can win on the day if the stars align in their favour.

Which is why I’m holding out a little hope for this friend of Laura’s. The reason for that is my dad.

The men of my family have some significant features in common… but the relevant one here is tenacity.

Call it what you will.

Determination.

Drive.

Stubborness.

We. Just. Don’t. Quit.

And this has typically meant that we either succeed well or fail miserably. But what it also means is that we persevere when others give up.

And my father is a brilliant example of this. For years he’d worked like an ox, providing for a young family, and like many of his generation, he liked to smoke. Not heavily, mind you, but there was always a pack of cigarettes around the place.

Then one day, he decided he wasn’t enjoying it… and stopped.

Now, at this stage, Dad hadn’t spent a day in hospital since he was a kid. Fit as a Malley Bull, as the saying goes.

Then one day, he comes down with an ear ache, goes to the doctor who promptly packs him off to hospital to have surgery to relieve the pressure building up because of an inner ear infection.

Soon enough he’s out, recovering well and all is good in the world… until some months later he drops to the floor, unable to stand. Near instant paralysis and lack of motor control. He’s back into hospital again, only this time, he doesn’t come out for the better part of a year.

It’s 1981, I’m 6 years old, and without knowing why, the only time I’m seeing my Dad is when Mum drives my brothers and I to see him in a recovery ward at Royal Brisbane Hospital.

The diagnosis changed more times than you can imagine… with the likely candidate being Guillain-Barré syndrome for the most part, before the doctors finally decide that it’s Transverse Myelitis. The prognosis is not good… if Dad leaves the hospital, and they’re saying that’s a big ‘IF’, it will be in a wheelchair.

Now, remember how I said the men in my family have a common trait… being stubborn bastards? Well, Dad, in language with no subtlety or diplomacy, told the Doctors exactly what body cavity they could deposit that prognosis, and that when he was ready, he’d walk out the front door.

And true to his word, in late 1982, Dad came home… walking under his own power. It took a boatload of therapy and rehabilitation, but he did it.

Like I said… stubborn.

Now most people would say at this point “That’s a great story!”… but it doesn’t end there. See, not content with being proven wrong about Dad remaining paralysed, the doctors then said that the condition is degenerative and that he had, at best, 10 years left. At 32, my father is being told by doctors who have next to no clue what they’re dealing with, that he will not see his eldest son graduate High School.

Of course, there are no prizes for guessing that Dad put a similar spin on that news for the doctors… and now, over a quarter of a century after his original diagnosis, he is still defying the odds and wringing every last drop out of life.

The lesson here… NEVER give up… NEVER surrender… when someone says “can’t”, go prove them wrong. If they say you have 5 years, live another 50… because you never know what we’ll learn tomorrow that may reverse these conditions. The first battle to win is fought on the battlefield of the mind and spirit.

And with today being mine and Laura’s first anniversary, a part of me wonders if I should be concerned with how she is feeling about this guy… but I realise that only a lesser man would be. It’s part of her charm, part of why she is so important to me, that she genuinely cares about people… even if they’re someone from her past. He’s moved on, married, started a family (his wife has just given birth to their second son)… and so has Laura (well, not married or started a family, but moved on).

It is, however, making me realise more than ever, how precious life can be… and how we really need to enjoy every day as though it were our last.

Because, no matter who you are, where you or how old you are… it eventually will be.

In the meantime, I’m not lamenting the loss of a Grand Final… in fact, i’m loving it… because it means that I’m still playing and still have goals to achieve.

More chance to prove the world wrong, when they say it can’t be done.