Embracing The Adverse Interference, A Lesson From My Father
By Mark Levison
Lawyers fight for a living and I’m very proud of what I do. Every day is new and challenging at the law office, and in the Courtroom sometimes the word “challenging” is an understatement. Fighting for clients is important, and so are other things.
In law school I started writing columns. I’ve been doing that ever since. The columns are meant to entertain; I never thought I would write anything about death. Sometimes plans change. Years ago, I wrote about the unexpected death of the son of one of my fellow columnists. Shortly after I found myself writing about the surprise death of our governor in a private plane crash during his campaign for the U. S. Senate. Last week I wrote about the illness of my friend Ted Kennedy.
Recently, the entire country was shocked by the passing of 58-year old Tim Russert. Two days later, an accomplished and well-respected attorney with whom I had a case a couple of years ago, died in the airport. His wife dropped him off to give a talk. That was the last time she saw him. He was 61.
As lawyers, we deal with adversity daily. It’s part of how we make our living, but sometimes adversity becomes personal.
My father is a hero of mine. He’s not a lawyer; he owned drug stores. He didn’t have a lot of schooling. In fact, when I came along, it interrupted his educational plans. He does have common sense though. Common sense, along with its counterpart, logic, plays a key role in being a successful lawyer. Dad would have probably been a good lawyer because of his common sense, and because he cares about people and never panics.
One of the great lessons I received from my father -- one I’m still working on -- is his attitude in the difficult times. It’s always easy to be upbeat in good times. However, we are judged, in life, by how we play the difficult hands, not the lay down winners. Dad never seems to get too excited over adversity. He views the bumps as part of the flow of life.
Over 20 years ago, he got prostate cancer. He has had about a half a dozen bouts with cancers since. He had cancer in some lymph nodes and underwent chemotherapy. He lost his wavy, silver-white hair. It was odd to see him that way, and his kids joked that he looked like Yoda. That was many years ago. The flowing hair returned.
There was never a day that I talked to him during the chemotherapy when he didn’t have something positive to say. The most negative thing I ever heard from him was: “Well, I didn’t have a great day today, but tomorrow will probably be better.” That would be his comment, even in the face of the reality that the next day was going to be worse. Attitude goes a long way. After 20 years of living with various cancers, and nearly 86 years of life, other than during the time when he underwent chemotherapy and was weak, my dad has never seemed sick at all.
His most recent cancer was in the bladder. He’s had it for a while and it didn’t seem too serious. Then another type of bladder cancer developed which was life threatening. The radiation that had been used to kill the less invasive cancer cells may have actually caused a worse problem. He had to have an operation. The calm, strong man that we all knew was facing extreme difficulties. That was difficult for me.
The doctor explained that there was a whole range of options. At 86, he could simply not survive the operation. Another option was that after the incision the doctor would find the cancer had spread throughout his body, that it was not worth doing anything, and they would just have to sew him up. A third option was that the cancer would have spread to the intestines. They would have to remove part of the intestines leaving him with a colostomy bag. The last, best option was the cancer would be contained in the bladder and they would take it out. The doctor said he would be in intensive care for one week, in the hospital for another week and then two weeks at a recovery center.
My dad, my brother, my cousin and I played a card game of Hearts the night before his surgery. He was winning, but I beat him on the last hand. It’s not in my nature to throw a game, even to someone who is headed to life threatening surgery. Besides, throwing the game would have been viewing my dad as a victim, and I know he’s never seen himself that way. By 2 o’clock the next afternoon the operation was over, the cancer was only in the bladder, and my father was talking to us as if it was just in another day. He went home seven days later, something the doctor had never seen in over a hundred operations.
The recovery period, however, has not been good. He has had repeated infections and had to return to the hospital many times. Despite all of that, his attitude is good.
As lawyers, we deal with difficult life problems almost everyday. Sometimes, many of them in a day. We can’t always make things right for our clients and we certainly can’t always win. We want to win every time, but at the end of the day we’ll feel okay if we have done our best. It’s kind of that way in life. We can’t always make things right. It’s scary having a sick parent. It’s also part of life. None of us knows how much time we have, but we do know that a person could live 100 years and not have nearly as successful a life as someone who had far less time, but made the most of the time they had. So, whether we are working in the law, at a pharmacy, or in a school house, we can’t do much better than having fun, helping others and doing our best to keep a positive attitude during the bad times, as well as during the good times. At least that’s what my dad would say.
Michelle calling from Chicago to say she was pregnant with Aiden:
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