Back in the 50s (long before I was born, of course) Bing Crosby (for those under 30, he founded the Del Mar Racetrack and sold a few records) and Rosemary Clooney (George's aunt -- also sang and acted a little) had big hits with their versions of a song which went, "If you're worried and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings."

I tell you that, because that's how I've been falling asleep lately ... counting my blessings. That could sound odd coming from a guy who's felt on the verge of death from those nasty drugs he's been getting, but it's how I deal with things like the last week and a half.

The newest blessing is a "clean" bill of health after my 10-day white cell check today. (Boy, I'll be glad when they're done sticking me and taking my blood! I'm happy to donate, but I'm getting tired of having it taken from me.) But having a good white cell count means I can fight off infections -- and I don't need another one of those SHOTS! Big blessing there.

You want to know some other blessings? How about health insurance? You have any idea how much my cancer treatments cost? Without my company-provided insurance, we would be bankrupt. And many people have to face what I've faced knowing the reality of that.

Most of my blessings are less tangible, but no less vital. A wife and family to care for me through the miserable times. Co-workers and bosses who let me know my job is safe, and their number one concern is for me to come back 100 percent. Friends (old and new) who contact me to give their support and encouragement, but who never intrude, nor do they expect anything in return. And scores of "prayer warriors" across the county and beyond, who "lift me up" without ever knowing me personally.

It used to be Christians were instilled with a sense of obligation for receiving blessings -- a misinterpretation of Scripture if I ever heard one. If the Lord's blessed you, the dogma went, you must bless someone else. But the reality is that those of us who've been blessed have been given the opportunity to pass it on, and experience the joy of doing so. I've heard as much from many of you. You survived this ridiculous disease, and you help me survive it.

Right at the beginning of his second letter to the Corinthians (who did not sit around on sofas made of "soft, fine corinthian leather," contrary to popular belief) the Apostle Paul uses an interesting writing technique to give us insight into the nature of Jesus -- parallel attributes. He first calls God "the Father of Christ," then calls him "the Father of compassion," then "the God of comfort, who comforts us ... so that we can comfort those in trouble with the comfort we ourselves received from God." Writing that way, Paul is telling us he considers Christ to BE "compassion" and "comfort" -- all three fathered by God Himself. So, since Christian means "Christ like," what better way to express it than by being compassionate and comforting?

I say that with the realization that I am among the least comforting persons I know. My motto could've been taken from an Eagles song -- "Get Over It!" But one doesn't just "get over" cancer or depression, or substance abuse, or marital problems, or being the victim of discrimination, or financial devastation, or a million other things that plague the people living next door or working alongside of you.

I hope to change in the weeks to come. Beginning Monday when I meet with some folks from the local Susan G.Komen Foundation. And Thursday when I visit the Cancer Society's Camp Reach for the Sky, held next week at Camp Marston for 130 children with cancer. I'm going as a fellow survivor, looking to develop compassion and comfort, and maybe give somebody I don't know an extra "blessing" to count when they can't sleep.

-Bill