My Faustian Quest

March 15, 2049
I was diagnosed with lung cancer last Thursday, the 11th. What a horrible thing to have. I’m still in shock. I’ve never smoked a cigar or cigarette in my life. I tried inhaling incense smoke once when I was 14, but Dr. Hansen reassured me that that wouldn’t have done it. Apparently, the air quality nowadays is a major contributing factor to most cases of lung cancer. He repeatedly told me it was quite treatable; nevertheless, I am still concerned and worried. I’ve had so much trouble breathing the last few weeks.
The past four or five days have been a rollercoaster of emotions. Haley, and all three of my children are naturally very concerned. Haley seems to be constantly talking to one of them on the phone in a hushed tone whenever I walk into the living room. It makes me a little uneasy, like they’re already planning my funeral. As I spoke to each of my children, I could tell they all had practiced their “Everything’s-Gonna-Be-Okay” voices. I guess it helped to see them so strong and ready to support their father with hope.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my life lately and how I want to be remembered by my children and grand-children and the generations to come. The only journals I’ve written account for the first 22 years of my life and that’s it. I suppose I’ve left clues about other parts of my life in the people I’ve associated with and the literature that I’ve produced, but I feel that a personally written interpretation of my life would be much more easily accessible than trying to extract the information from numerous, scattered people and obscure bits of prose and poetry.
I just don’t know where to start right now, though. My mind is still so frazzled from all the recent events. I will attempt to collect some of my thoughts for tomorrow.

March 16, 2049
I am quite ashamed to say that there is no record (in all of my writing!) of my marriage to my dear wife of nearly 44 years. On June 30, 2005, Haley and I were wed in American Fork, Utah and promised each other to be the best of friends for the rest of our lives and beyond. I’m happy to say that we still do everything together and rather enjoy living with each other. When situations were bleak and storms loomed on the horizon, Haley was there spreading the sunshine, lighting my way. When Haley felt like throwing in the towel, I would do my best to encourage and support her. We became the best we could be by leaning on and carrying each other.
We spent our honeymoon in Frisco, Colorado. That vacation was the first of innumerable trips and vacations that have increased our joy in life and love for each other. Haley originally hails from Idaho and, as a young couple in Utah, we made several trips every year to Southern Idaho and the Boise area. As we drove home from each of our Idaho trips, Haley was already planning the next one. Las Vegas was another one of our frequent vacation destinations. The dreariness of long Utah winters could often be dispelled by a quick trip down to Vegas for the weekend. With recharged batteries, we could function properly for at least four more weeks.
When we tied the knot, I was an aspiring Pre-Biology student at the University of Utah and Haley had recently graduated from the LDS Business College with an Associate’s Degree in Medical Assisting. Within the first year of marriage, I was struggling with the required Chemistry courses for the Pre-Biology program and I ended up switching majors. The English department was more than happy to accept another burned-out Science Major drop-out, and I was more than happy to begin using my brain for more than just information storage. I originally thought that choosing English as a major might not challenge my brain as much as the sciences had, but I was quickly corrected in that assumption. There is a big difference between memorizing the periodic table and trying to wrap my head around Derridian theories and Shakespearean themes.
After switching majors, I suffered from personal guilt-trips. I had to continually convince myself that I hadn’t just given up and found something easier so I could say I finally received a degree from the University. Although I was being much more intellectually stimulated by my English studies, I couldn’t help thinking that I had allowed myself to be intimidated by Chemistry. Maybe Chemistry did intimidate me. Maybe that was just Fate’s way of forcing me to discover what I truly needed and desired.
At any rate, the issue of “settling for less” was one with which I struggled for years. Ever since I was 10 or 11, my parents had noticed my increasing interest in things like animals, plants, anatomy, etc. Sitting in “the Chair” as punishment for being naughty, I would actually read encyclopedias to pass the time. My parents encouraged my interest in scientific areas by spouting remarks like, “Some day you’ll be a wonderful scientist,” or, “Just look at our little biologist, reading up on more animals in the encyclopedia,” or, “We need to put him on Jeopardy! He could answer all of those questions.”
My senior year of high school included AP Biology and AP English Literature courses. I enjoyed the Biology class because I was able to discover new things with each successive class period, but the English class really inspired me to think hard about the puzzling themes embedded within most poetry and classic fiction. At the end of my senior year, I took both AP exams and received a 4 out of 5 in Biology and a 5 out of 5 in English. I should have known right then and there which direction to go; yet, I resisted the flow of logic at first to indulge my parents’ expectation that I would become a scientist.
Biology is a field that interests me to this day, and I have taken many opportunities to better acquaint myself with it, but I am grateful for the stumbling-block that Chemistry threw in my way all those years ago. Literature has given me access to solutions to many of my own inner enigmas. It amazes me to think how many authors speak straight to my heart and how I am able to follow their thoughts with frightening self-awareness.
Good grief, it’s just after midnight. It seems like Haley just walked into the study 15 minutes ago to kiss me and say, “Goodnight, I’m going to bed. It’s 10:15, don’t stay up too late, honey.” I suppose my thoughts will have to be put on hold for a few hours so I can rest my brain.

March 17, 2049
Haley just finished a phone conversation with our good friend, Jillian. Since Haley’s retirement last year from the medical clinic where she worked, we have been constantly planning small trips around the United States and have been back to France and Germany once. Last month, we flew down to New Mexico to visit Jillian. We met her years ago, in 2010, when we began our service in the Peace Corps together. We were in the same volunteer group stationed in Tanzania, about half-way between the capitol, Dodoma, and Mount Kilimanjaro. Jillian was stationed 35 miles to the west of us in a village where she helped her community with AIDS/HIV issues. In our village, I was assigned to teach mainly English, but also simple mathematics and sciences. Haley was assigned to provide medical care and education. Besides our assignments, we were able to help our community in so many other ways. And our community helped us in ways I would have never imagined.
As we first toyed with the idea of joining the Peace Corps, Haley struggled with the idea of leaving home for 27 months to live in a foreign land with an unfamiliar culture. She didn’t know if she could handle being away from her family. We had many long conversations concerning our goals and thoughts on what we wanted to do with our lives. Our main concerns revolved around family and education. Haley wanted children before she turned 26 and I wanted to continue my education working on a Master’s Degree in German. Eventually we reached the conclusion that joining the Peace Corps was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and that our lives would ultimately be enriched by taking the chance. Putting a family and career on hold was certainly a sacrifice, but it was one that was well worth accepting.
The reunion with Jillian was bittersweet. We related a few current events, like how our children were doing and some of our recent trips, but the conversation quickly turned to memories of the Peace Corps. At one point, Haley made reference to an experience that I had nearly forgotten, mostly because it was so painful to remember. The village we were stationed in was struck with a malaria epidemic. Even though Haley and others in the area were well-trained in the medical field, the sickness was uncontrollable. Seven children and two adults died within a time span of ten days. It was so hard to arrive at the “school room” – an area outside that had two logs as benches for the children to sit upon – and discover that one or two more children would not be attending class because they had died in the night. My class quickly went from sixteen children to nine and there was virtually nothing that I could do.
Haley and I had to fight to wake up each morning and face our duties, even when members of the community weren’t in danger of dying. We worked hard to keep an enthusiastic outlook on life in some of the conditions that we lived in. It was an eye-opening experience that enabled me and Haley to empathize with the villagers, although the villagers had to continue experiencing those conditions even after we left. I like to think we left the village in a better state than when we arrived. The people in the village where we served were not just poor Tanzanians that needed our help, rather they were our brothers, sisters, children, fathers and mothers. Leaving that little village was, and still is, the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. When I arrived in Tanzania, 27 months seemed like a very long time, but as I left the land and people that I came to love, 27 months didn’t seem long enough.
As we spoke with Jillian, I wondered if people were still benefiting from our contributions to their society. I hoped that our sacrifices and service were still opening windows and doors that may have been previously shut. I also wondered if there were more ways that I could be utilizing my time and energies to assist those around me in my community in Idaho Falls. Now that I’ve been ordered to focus my energies on battling cancer, it’s hard to think about helping others.
After talking to Jill today, Haley told me that she was praying for me and that she planned on coming to visit in one month. I suppose I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. I personally believe my chances of overcoming the cancer can improve greatly as I reconnect with each friendship and relationship in my life. My idea of self-worth is a formidable weapon in this fight.

March 18, 2049
I have an appointment at the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City tomorrow. I thought about flying, but it’s just over four hours to drive there from Idaho Falls. Haley and I will leave early tomorrow and get there around noon. With all the commotion and stress of the past week, Haley and I could definitely benefit from the peace and quiet that a car ride can offer us. It will also be an opportune time to have a good conversation in order to express our thoughts and feelings about my illness.
Today, I received an unexpected, yet enjoyable, call from my old friend, Martin van Roosendaal. Haley must have called him to inform him of my condition and that we would be in Utah tomorrow. Martin lives in Heber, Utah and has been a great influence in my writing career. We agreed to meet in Salt Lake after my appointment. I am quite excited to see him again, as it’s been over 10 years. Though we have kept in contact by e-mail and the phone, it’s nicer to see friends in person. Martin was my co-worker when I worked at the University of Utah. We were both English majors and he graduated two years before me. Writing poetry and short stories was a shared passion and we often consulted one another to edit/critique our individual efforts.
In 2023, we finally collaborated and produced one of the best-selling works of poetry/fiction in 2024, titled Parables Concerning the Not So Wild West. The collection of poems and short stories was initially only sold in small bookstores across the West. It soon gained increasing popularity and eventually people in New York were interested in the creative insight it provided regarding the evolution of the American dream and way of life. Martin, with his optimistic attitude, is the only person I can imagine combining forces with to have completed such a project.
It was an arduous journey writing the book. I remember the stress and joy each new day brought, as Martin and I continually argued about the focus of our work and how to portray that focus in the most effective light possible. I am still unsatisfied with the final product, though. I feel that it does not quite achieve what we set out to do: illustrate the sharp contrast between the rural and urban communities of the Western United States; the ideals present in both settings and how the communities actually put those ideals into action.
Although I did not feel a sense of completion when the first edition went out, it was somewhat gratifying to receive royalty checks from the publisher. I will always be the first to admit that Parables Concerning the Not So Wild West does not contain my finest work, despite what some of the critics believe. After allowing the book to be published as it was, I promised myself never to release anything to the public with which I was even slightly dissatisfied. At the time the book was published, I often thought more on the monetary compensation the book could provide rather than the quality of what the book contained. Working as the chief editor of the Idaho State Journal in Pocatello was barely making ends meet. It’s easy to look back now and say that I regret choosing money over the quality of my work, but since then I really have pushed myself to exceed my own expectations when I write.
Martin and I never collaborated again on anything, though we continued to send each other manuscripts and writing samples. Perhaps we realized, through our arguments and debates, that our personal agendas greatly differed. Since then, I’ve also realized that our differences only encouraged us to broaden our horizons and open our minds to new ideas and prospects.
Tomorrow promises to be a day filled with anxiety and excitement.

March 19, 2049
My appointment today was sobering. I have never been someone who gives up completely and takes the easy way out, but I feel like doing that now. I don’t have the energy I used to and I just don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my spirits up in the battles to come. After completing some initial tests, blood work, and other horrid experiences, I was told that my chances of winning this fight were around 70%. I like those odds, but the doctor explained that a lot of those odds have to do with my own personal attitude. Despite the long road and hard work ahead, my loving wife will be by my side every step of the way, and that is a great comfort.
Martin called me before my appointment and told me that he was dealing with another one of his younger brother’s crises, but promised that he would be in Salt Lake tomorrow at lunch time. Haley and I were planning on just staying overnight in Salt Lake anyway, so I made sure that Martin understood that he wasn’t inconveniencing us at all.
Everything has changed so much since I was in Salt Lake last. Fond memories flooded my mind as I drove past the north end of the University of Utah’s campus on my way to the Cancer Institute. There are new buildings popping up everywhere, even above the Cancer Institute. When I attended the University, there was always a lot of construction, and I believed that one day they would be done with the construction projects. Heading up the mountain proved that the University was capable of taking on even more projects than even I thought possible.
In December of 2008, I officially completed all the required courses to graduate from the University of Utah with a BA in both English and German. I had spent over nine years – beginning in September of 1999 – taking classes and working in order to graduate. I had also spent two full years as a missionary for the LDS church. It had taken me longer that I would have liked, but I still wouldn’t trade anything in exchange for the experiences and lessons I had during the college years. In fact, now that I think about them, those experiences and lessons helped shape my future and prepare me for everything else that I have experienced throughout my life.
As I already related on a previous date, I switched my major from Pre-Biology to English. It was interesting to inform friends and family that I would not burst out of my collegiate cocoon as a beautiful genetic engineer, rather as a connoisseur of fine literature, possibly refining my critical abilities to the point that I might become a distinguished critic and/or editor. If I remember correctly, I hesitated for approximately one year before telling my parents about the switch. I went about it quite furtively, too, if my memory serves me right.
Haley and I were visiting my parents at their mountain home in Herriman, Utah. As we sat around the table eating dinner, my father asked how my studies were progressing. I casually remarked that they were going well and that I could expect A’s and B’s in all my courses, but mostly A‘s. My father then inquired as to what courses I was enrolled in. I tried to make sure I had food in my mouth as I answered, hoping that my father wouldn’t hear my answer around the mashed potatoes. To my dismay, he heard “Shakespeare,” “Literature History III,” and “Studies in Poetry” quite clearly. I was surprised to see him simply raise his eyebrows and ask me if I had deviated from “the Path of Science,” as if it were a religion. I fully expected him to stand up and bark at his 24-year-old son to go sit in “the Chair.” And I probably would have done so, too. I think he realized, though, that I was financing school with my own money, and that he really had no right to influence what I studied.
Every time I mentioned that I was studying English and German, people would raise their eyebrows and ask with a hint of confusion in their tone of voice, “Oh. What do you plan on doing with an English and German degree?” Most of the time I just replied, “I plan on reading books and enjoying them,” but that didn’t satisfy Haley’s father’s inquisitive mind. No, he wasn’t satisfied until I told him that I would like to translate and edit German and English literature and that a person could actually earn money doing such a thing. I might have thrown in something about writing poetry, but he was the type of man that yelled stuff like, “Wimp!” at the football player that had been hit so hard he couldn’t stand up anymore.
Yes, everything has certainly changed since those college days. The physical appearance of the University campus has changed, just as my inner intellectual landscape has radically changed over the years, for the better, of course. I look forward to tomorrow’s lunch with Martin. It will be interesting to exchange our recent observations of life.

March 20, 2049
Lunch with Martin was intellectually stimulating. Luckily for Haley, Anna, Martin’s wife, was also there at lunch. Haley would have died of boredom if she had had to sit and listen to me and Martin and our theories of literature. We met at the Vienna Bistro on Main Street and spent the better part of three hours discussing various topics of interest. I am glad that my thirst for knowledge was matched by Martin’s. Neither one of us has stopped trying to find new, creative ways to express ourselves and our ideas.
I was relieved that the seriousness of my cancer diagnosis did not dampen our conversation. Martin was concerned, of course, but he has a way of making any situation hopeful. It is those people in my life that inspire me to keep pushing forward and deter me from wallowing in self-pity. Martin himself has quite the collection of health issues. Hereditary heart problems, obesity, sleep apnea, and compacted vertebrae are just the beginning. He never complains. He mentions them every now and again, but never uses them as excuses. In fact, Martin has spent more time in the hospital in the last three months than I have in my entire life. But he rarely mentions that and focuses instead on the next big project that he and Anna have planned. Anna is a semi-retired jazz musician, and continues to dabble with music. It is hard to keep up with them. I pray that I am able to inspire them and reciprocate their enthusiasm for life, too.
We parted with the optimistic prospect of seeing each other once again. In combination with my wife’s support and comfort, Martin and Anna’s encouragement comes as a great boost to my confidence that I can beat this cancer in my lungs.

March 21, 2049
Nothing rests the body like Sunday. This year’s Spring is full of promise and hope. The sun is bright today, and so warm, too. Not a sign of a cloud in the sky. I don’t want to waste the day cooped up inside, so here I am outside relaxing in the chaise lounge, writing in this journal. It is a comfortable 65 degrees and I almost don’t need my jacket. The air smells so crisp and clean.
Earlier today, I flipped through an old scrapbook of photographs that my wife put together years ago. She always made me write the captions for the pictures and the page headings, because I, as she said, “have such pretty handwriting.” It was filled with pictures from our two years in Germany while I was attending Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München. I smiled at photos of me and Haley making stupid faces in front of Neuschwanstein and kissing on the grounds of Herrenchiemsee.
Towards the end of the scrapbook, pictures of our first daughter, Trinity, flooded each and every page. Trinity was born in 2014, adding another facet to our already complicated lives. I thought that working a full-time job, enrolling for full-time semesters at school, and taking on various other projects and challenges was hard enough. Trinity was such a refreshing new challenge, though. I was nearly finished with graduate school when Haley became pregnant with her. Trinity wasn’t exactly a planned pregnancy, but she definitely was not a mistake. I never once considered it a bad thing to bring any one of our children into the world. I knew that Trinity would be a great influence concerning my future. I wanted to be able to provide her with every opportunity I could so that she could achieve her goals and dreams.
Born in 2017, Gabriella, our second girl, presented us with an all new set of challenges. When she was about six months old, she frequently began breaking out in rashes and we quickly found out that she was allergic to nearly every possible item of food. She was especially allergic to dairy products and tree nuts. Her allergies were quite ironic, as Haley worked as a medical assistant with an allergist before we joined the Peace Corps. Haley’s knowledge of allergies and reactions probably saved us from hospital trips that would have quickly left us in some serious debt. As time went on, though, Gabriella was able to eat most foods with the help of periodic shots and pills.
Haley’s pride and joy, Charlie, arrived eight years after Gabriella in 2025. Haley was certainly proud of her two girls, but she had always wanted a boy and Charlie fulfilled that wish for her. Charlie and I could never get along like I always hoped we would, and I often felt that I could relate so much easier with my daughters than with my son. There is also a 44-year gap between us that contributed to the problem. I never gave up trying to understand what drove him, though. Unlike his sisters, Charlie didn’t respond well to literature and it was evident early on that he was quite content playing soccer and baseball and football and basketball all day, every day. Reading was more of a chore to him than vacuuming or washing the dishes.
Trinity and Gabriella were always eager to share their father’s love of poetry and literature. Well, not so much in the teenage years, but that was expected. Charlie never showed any inclination towards such “nasty, boring things,” to put it in his terms. I found that my writing in the late 2030’s contains much of the frustration connected with not being able to identify with my son. He is now in his third year at the University of Colorado studying Sports Medicine and I couldn’t be prouder of his accomplishments. He takes the time now to read some of the books I recommend to him. We watch a lot of sporting events together, too; mostly football, but an occasional baseball or basketball game.
Trinity fell in love with my arch-nemesis, Chemistry, yet she was able to retain her respect and love of literature while excelling in her Chemistry studies. She lives in Los Angeles and works as an independent consultant for companies that deal with chemicals in high volume. She is married and has provided me with two grandkids. Her husband, Greg, and I get along great. He has a background in Biology, so he supplies me with new information that blows my mind. And to think that I could have been involved with some of these innovations and discoveries…but at the same time, I have contributed a great deal to the liberal arts.
Gabriella, true to her father whose name she bears, pursued an education in Languages and Literature. She teaches Spanish and Honors English Literature at Magic Valley High School in Twin Falls, Idaho. Besides some foods, she must also be allergic to men, because she hasn’t married yet, though I swear she’s had a relationship with every good-looking guy in Idaho. All five of them. Every time she comes to visit, she brings a new love interest along. She’s happy, though, and her whimsical nature reminds me of myself. It’s refreshing to converse with Gabriella and find out that she still has so many dreams in life and plans on completing them before she gets too old.
What a delight my children have been! The diverse paths that they have chosen show me how unpredictable life really is. Through the tears of joy and pain that we have shed together, I have received beautiful glimpses of the big picture of what my life is really about.
It is late afternoon now, and the air has gotten chillier. Time to go inside. I feel well rested and ready for another week.

March 23, 2049
I woke up suffocating yesterday at 5:30 a.m. and wound up in the hospital. I thought for sure I would die. As I sucked in, something blocked the air from entering my lungs and then I would sputter, letting more air out, but letting none in. Haley had already called 9-1-1 before I was even fully aware that I wasn’t dreaming anymore. I don’t remember much of yesterday at all. Thank God for that.
When I was 30 or so, I believed that when I reached the age of 67, I wouldn’t have as much going on as I did then. Life at 30 was certainly busy, but I would trade this lung cancer for it in an instant. I wept for two hours last night, wishing my health problems would go away. The tears would have kept flowing, too, if I hadn’t been able to draw upon these last few days’ reflections. Though my religious beliefs can lend me strength in times of doubt, this fight against cancer can only be won with the help of my family and friends’ support. I must believe in them, or else I have nothing left to live for.
At times I am able to see how each part of my life (wife, children, career, education, etc.) has a specific place within my heart and that together they create a whole. I am utterly devoid of regrets as I search my heart. I am pleased to discover that my life, full of the ups and downs, is a life that has accomplished exactly what it was supposed to. While my past is full of times when I was torn between doing what I needed to do and doing what I wanted to do, I do not feel that division within me in the slightest anymore. Whatever tomorrow brings, I know that every meaningful person in my life will be there in my heart to lift me up and provide me with the attitude that I need to overcome anything that comes my way.