Barb Caffrey's Blog

Writing the Elfyverse . . . and beyond

Archive for February 2026

Former NBA Star, Basketball Hall of Famer Chris Bosh Wrote Something Everyone Needs to Read

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When I woke up this morning, I started my normal routine. The aches and pains I live with, the overall frustration of still looking for a place while attempting to help my ill family member, and of course the grief I will always have over the loss of my beloved husband Michael are always there. (Sometimes I wake up and wonder where Michael is, not as in, “What is the Other Side and what could he be doing there?” but “He was just here, in the dream! Where is he now?”)

Life is often frustrating. But it has moments of joy, too. And those moments can be ripped from you in a heartbeat if you don’t pay attention to your health or the folks you most care about in order to chase meaningless things (like trying to keep up with a famous Internet star or content creator; it’s great that they do what they do, but there’s nothing wrong with what you do either and you don’t have to do the same things in order to have value or create meaning in your life.)

The reason I say all this is that I read a very insightful column by former NBA star and basketball Hall-of-Famer Chris Bosh, which is the first post he’s written at Substack in over four years. Here’s a bit from that:

I was walking from my closet into the bathroom, getting ready for an evening out, when my body turned on me. A numbing sensation shot down my left leg, that sharp, electric feeling you get when you bump your funny bone. Before I knew it, I was on the floor.

I slowly came to in a pool of my own blood while my wife frantically spoke with 911. I tried to move my body the way I always had, and it didn’t respond.

There was no choice but to surrender. It was a terrifying event, something I had never experienced before. That’s when the realization hit me, everything can collapse at a moment’s notice. There’s not always a warning. There’s not always a symptom or a buildup to let you know what’s coming. One moment you’re walking. The next moment, you could be gone.

He’s right.

He later discusses that there are a whole lot of things people pay attention to in this life that don’t matter one bit. The important things are ones that we sometimes take for granted, like health, the health of our loved ones, enough time to spend with our loved ones, and doing things that edify us rather than gratify us. (Though if you love learning, as I do, it can be both sometimes.)

What Chris Bosh and his wife went through was scary, to say the least. And if a former professional athlete, one who’s always taken excellent care of his body (or he’d never have been able to do the remarkable things he did on the court to make a living), can have this happen, any of us can.

(As if I didn’t know that already, considering what happened to Michael. But I digress, because it’s important to be reminded of our core truths sometimes.)

I left a comment there about how I understood, and about two of my best friends, who’ve suffered the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” health-wise, and some of the limitations they have. (I also briefly sketched some of the limitations I have.)

The important thing, though, is that we’re still alive to do whatever we can. I survived a pulmonary embolism, which not everyone can do (I was told how lucky I was in the ER a few years ago). Chris Bosh just survived this scary and disturbing experience. My friends Kat and Lika have survived illness, misdiagnoses, lots of frustration and pain, and the loss of being able to freely move about and do whatever they want to do without having to plan for the energy expenditure first.

Make no mistake: when you have to constantly “ration your spoons” (referring to “spoon theory,” here; Google it), life changes for you and seemingly gets smaller.

But that’s only seemingly. The world is still wide, still has possibilities and accomplishments, still has something of value to offer, and most importantly, we still have something important to offer to it, too.

We have to try to smell the flowers, as cliched as that phrase is. We have to figure out who matters most to us, and let them know that, and value them and honor them, before it’s too late to do so. We also have to figure out what is the best use of our time, energy, and resources, and spend more time on that and less time on nonessentials like doomscrolling. (Though there often is a lot to doomscroll about, it doesn’t do much good and wastes our precious time.)

In my case, I am trying to save what energy I have to write, edit, comment, and also compose music on the side (that I can play myself, though if all goes well, someday I hope to hear someone else or maybe a band or even an orchestra play it once I flesh it out a little). These are the important things in my life.

Of course, I still have to do things like food shopping, laundry, care for my ill family member, care for my health, etc. Those things don’t go away. But I can perhaps approach them a little differently and be grateful I’m here to still do them…at least some of the time. (None of us can be grateful for chores all of the time. Even Mother Theresa had days she didn’t want to do her job if I remember some of her quoted comments right. And I’m sure some of what she did seemed like a chore for her.)

The important thing is what we do while we’re here. The people we love. The activities that make us go, give us life, and give us a reason to get up in the morning despite the pain and stress.

That’s why I loved Chris Bosh’s Substack column today, and hope you will, too.

Grace Under Pressure as Skater Ilia Malinin Stumbles, Then Immediately Congratulates Winner

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The tough moments are the ones that often define us. Figure skater Ilia Malinin, United States men’s champion (multiple years), is finding that out today.

There has only rarely been a bigger favorite to win a gold medal than this year’s hopeful, Malinin. He’d not lost a competition in a few years, he’s only twenty-one, he has an arsenal of seven quadruple jumps (including the quad Axel, a jump only he can do), and he mostly skates cleanly with fine edges, great footwork and competent spins. (I’m kind of with the late Dick Button on spins these days. It’s not Malinin’s fault or any other competitor’s fault as they have to go for multiple positions in each spin to get the best amount of points plus grade of execution and such, but a straight line and tight rotation in a spin are a lot easier to see if you’re doing the same spin for twenty seconds rather than five or six different positions in that same amount of seconds.)

Here’s the thing, though. Everyone has off nights. You can be sick, you can be worn to flinders with nerves, you can feel great walking out there to compete (I know this as a former competitive musician) and then, for whatever reason, nothing works right…and we all know this is possible. We’ve had bad competitions before. Rarely, if we’re exceptionally good — and Malinin is that, without a doubt — but it does happen because we’re human. Human equals fallible, mortal, and capable of both the highest highs and lowest lows (along with everything in between).

When Malinin stepped onto the ice, he looked calm and ready to go. But within a minute, he’d “popped” a jump (meaning his body didn’t let him rotate properly; it’s an involuntary thing), then took a hard fall. He got up and did his best thereafter, but he looked shaky and he knew it. To his credit, he gave it his all (not that I’d expect anything less of the U.S.’s pre-eminent skater), but when the judging panel was done, he’d fallen from first place into eighth place, and way out of medal contention.

This was unexpected, to put it mildly.

Most people, when facing the ashes of their immediate hopes and dreams, are not able to do what Malinin did next, though. After his scores, he immediately congratulated the winner, Mikhail Shaidorov of Kazakhstan, gave him a hug, talked for a moment…and only then walked away to face the hard questions from the media.

What Malinin did showed grace under pressure. It showed sportsmanship. It showed class.

What I know from past competitions is, the worst day I’ve ever had as a musician is not what defines me. The best day, as wonderful as it was, also does not define me. It’s all the work I’ve put in to get to the point to be in that position that defines me, and being able to go on when your hopes have been dashed and your life has become something you didn’t want it to be is the name of the game.

So, while I’ve battled numerous health issues, I’m still standing. While I am not currently playing in any bands or orchestras, I continue to compose music. While my three novels are still out of print (I really am working on getting them back out there, but so many other things are going on it’s hard to focus), I continue to write. And while my pace slowed a lot last year, I didn’t stop.

I say all this because Malinin is only twenty-one, as I said before. This may be the first really big defeat he’s ever had. He’s shown class, grace, and sportsmanship, which is more important than just about anything in defeat. But now he has to show himself some of that class, grace, and sportsmanship, too.

I hope he has a good sports psychologist or counselor to talk with, too. I know counseling, over time, has helped me greatly.

You see, you can’t always do everything you want with your gifts. Life gets in the way. Health gets in the way. In Malinin’s case, perhaps the condition of the ice got in the way, or the skate blades got in the way (as the team medal podium Malinin and Team USA stood on messed with a lot of their skates, and those are hard to break in; this also affected the other team medal winners), or his nerves got in the way (as he said he thought he had mental errors, also a very good thing to say right off the bat). He didn’t need to say those were the things, if they were, but these are all considerations for him — just as the condition of my reeds, how well the keys were working, whether or not I’d pulled a muscle so standing while soloing was hard, etc. — as they were considerations for me.

All you can do, as a human being as well as a competitor, is to give yourself the best chance to win. After that, it’s up to things beyond our control.

And after that, it’s up to us as to what we do about it. Will we let it fuel us and keep us going, even if it’s not in the way we wanted? Or will we let it bother us so much that we start looking at ourselves as failures?

I hope in Malinin’s case that he can look at it as a learning experience. Then let it go. This one competition, as important as it was, does not define him. And cannot define him.

Only what he does, what he continues to do, and what he has done overall will define him. And the rest of that book has yet to be written.