This is my actual reality. All I did was make the choice, about 15 years ago. Here is what actually happened. I moved out here from Los Angeles, California with the intent of trying it out. I am after all a big city boy, and was not sure if Hawaii was going to offer enough excitement to keep me entertained. I had memories of many vacations in Hawaii when I was a child and had always held, deep in my heart, the fantasy of living in Hawaii some day.
I was not feeling well and had been seeing a variety of doctors for some curious lumps I have developed. This was quite frustrating as the doctors I had seen were giving me antibiotics and they were having no effect. I was sure that I had some type of lymphoma but could not get any of the doctors to do a biopsy. Finally, I had decided to see an oncologist at my own expense, as my insurance plane was restricting me to primary care physicians. The doctor I was to see was at a hospital that was located in town, Honolulu, in an old neighborhood all the way up a hill just north of old Chinatown. After my meeting with the oncologist, some preliminary test and an immediate biopsy, for which I was permitted to wait for rather immediate results. I was indeed given the diagnosis of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and told that I had been diagnosed as stage four. This meant that I had limited time left on this planet, unless I responded to some rather radical chemotherapy.
Needless to say, it was a bit much to digest all in one afternoon. I needed to walk this feeling of desperation off. After leaving the oncologists office I started to walk down the hill to gather my thoughts. As it happened the neighborhood I was in was one of the old neighborhoods I used to escape to with my allowence money when I was a child. I happened across a small restaurant, which looked odly familiar. I deceided to go in and asked if I could have one of the roast ducks hanging in the window, to take home with me. I had done this on my own as a child, you see. The ancient and arthrites ridden woman behind the counter also looked oddly familiar. It could not possibly be the same woman I knew as a child. The last time I saw her I was only ten years old and she was the oldest woman I had ever met at that time in my life. It just could not be her. I asked one more question. "Do you still make roast duck soup?", I asked. " Of course I do, Philip.", said the old woman. With my eyes a big as pizzas, I shouted, "How could this be? How can you possibly remember me? It hjas been forty years since I last saw you. I was just a boy of ten". The woman leaned back in her chair so that she could see me. She simply said, "still Funny Lookin". I knew I was home at that very moment. I had never felt so strong a sense of belonging in my life.
The old woman has since passed away, and I am still living. It has been eleven years since that bittersweet day. It must be my Karma, I just can't die. After all, I owe money.
