“Dad…I am so glad you got cancer”

“Dad, don’t take this the wrong way, but I am so glad you got cancer.” He was really cute about it, clearly a little nervous, and yet intent to speak his truth.

You would not have expected that to light up a smile across my face, but that is exactly what happened. Another gift of this dreaded disease. Hard to imagine that they could be so abundant in just four weeks. You would be amazed. If I could spend more time writing they would come flowing out of me, it is stunning. A friend of ours, a therapist, said “cancer is the intimacy disease…if you let it become that for you and those around you.” That was an understatement.

So why did Miller’s comment make me so happy? A bit of a back story…Miller got into basketball last year when he was in the sixth grade. He was already tall for his age and he took and immediate liking to it. Good thing, over the last 8 months Miller went from being tall to being a giant. 6’1″, size 12 shoe, and 135lbs. And he just turned 12 on June 16th. This year he wanted to go for a spot in the “Gold Crown” competitive league. This was a tall order, pun intended, for a kid who had only played a year on a YMCA team. And, in fact, had never really had any serious coaching on his skills. I played hockey through my school years so I didn’t have a lot of basketball knowledge to offer up. Turns out I had something more valuable to offer, my time.

A few weeks ago we went to an open gym for one of the teams and I quickly saw the knowledge gap first hand. I took copious notes on all of the drills the coach was using. 2 days later we went to a different teams open gym and I learned even more drills. Later that evening Miller and I sat down and made a plan. Every day after that we went out and did drills for an hour or more. It was really cool to see how he started to progress in his skills, much quicker than I had anticipated. Yet the coolest part was the time he and I spent together, working towards a shared goal, talking, collaborating. Because of my medical leave, my schedule allowed me to be there every day after school to practice, and to attend each gym workout and team tryouts. I was fully engaged in the process and completely present in supporting his goals.

My cancer diagnosis has opened a window of time from my work. I have always thrown myself into my endeavors with passion, energy, and a focused desire to be the best I can be in any given situation. I love to learn, and I love to work with other smart people to create and collaborate. My professional and service oriented commitments have always been very fulfilling and rewarding for me and I have benefited from many great teachers, partners, co-workers, and staff. And I have spent enormous amounts of life energy and time in pursuit of my professional goals over the last 16 years.

My diagnosis has also opened a window of awareness and vulnerability, in my consciousness, and my heart. Spending time with my children and family has been an enormous gift. The impact of my presence and deeper involvement in the family cannot be understated. Both Brooke and I have observed and discussed numerous examples of this in the last month. It has been interesting for me to reflect upon this change. I have spent the last 16 years working hard to provide for my family, and like most working parents that means I am out the door by 8 am or earlier, and home by 6 pm or later. Add in some work email, etc. around the evening and weekend margins and that restricts my time to some fairly narrow windows. Given that I have three children, and selfishly want time to exercise and get some individual space, it does not leave much in the balance.

So what is the right balance?  Clearly there has to be a balance, work and income are necessary for economic and intellectual nourishment. Yet I have realized over the last 4 weeks in that there is absolutely no better return on my investment for my time than with my children. They are the true gift and I can imagine no better place to invest my creative and collaborative energies. Time is short and fleeting. The future for all of us is uncertain. 1 out of 6 people with my diagnosis are dead in 5 years or less. Much better odds than most with cancer, and yet still sobering for me to consider…especially given that until 4 weeks ago I maintained the popular illusion that I had many uninterrupted years stretching before me. What if I were not here? What if my time with my precious children and family is shorter than I imagined? How do I want my children to remember me? Rushing out the door each morning and returning late each evening, traveling, focused on the world beyond them. Or engaged in their lives, “on the court”, and focused on their passions and pursuits with equal investment as my own? A tricky equation to balance, comprised of different variables and choices, and no clear “right answer”.

For me I have a new awareness for the preciousness of life and time with my children and family. I don’t know what path lies ahead of me. I am focused on getting this cancer out and healing. I am told that it will be a pretty significant recovery. That is where I will be putting my energies and passions over the next 2 months. Healing myself and preparing for the next step in my life’s journey. And I am looking forward to many years ahead engaging and investing as much of my time in my children and my family as I am in my own pursuits and in the world beyond. I cannot imagine a better way to positively impact the world than to support my three incredible children in the development of their minds, bodies, and spirits.

Miller made the team.  A big accomplishment in a short period of time. In fact he has 1 more tryout for the top team and the coach is taking a serious look at bringing him on the 10 man squad. Amazing how much ground he has covered in a short period of time. Amazing the positive impact this has had on his attitude, confidence, and enthusiasm. I am so grateful to have had the time to support him on this journey. In a twisted sort of way I am thankful for the gift of cancer as well.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their sould,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

…You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

– The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

 

 

 

 

 

 

One thought on ““Dad…I am so glad you got cancer”

  1. I am a person who prides herself on my skill with words, but I’ll never be able to properly express how moved I am by this post. Thank you so much for sharing, this and so much more. Love to all of you in your remarkable little family – this whole town loves you guys, the Blums included.

    For some reason I can’t quite pinpoint, your blog posts (both yours and Brooke’s) always bring a particular quote from Walt Whitman to mind. “When I give, I give myself.”

    Humbled, grateful, and cheering for you with my incredibly loud and obnoxious voice. – Megs

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