Dear Friends,
Greetings. I have been engaged in a battery of blood tests, ECGs, EKGs, CT Scans, eye exams, skin exams and a host of other medical procedures that will continue on Monday January 25th and 26th to assess the impact of the new drug I am taking on my body. With the exception of a couple of tumors, the results have been generally positive, with no development in my vital organs. Most of my body has been found to be, in the only words of the report I understand, 'unremarkable.' I never really lived with the delusion that my body was great, but it carried me through some amazing adventures, into a marriage and a family complete with grandchildren, world championships in baseball, great coaching experiences, and some life long friendships. 'Unremarkable' was never by goal, nor that of my friends. But again, cancer has a couple of lessons up its sleeve, and now, I covet being 'Unremarkable' as often as possible. It is my health report goal from this point forward. I hope to sweet Jesus one day that 'Unremarkable' will turn into 'cancer free', but for now, I am hoping to be 'Unremarkable Me.!'
Another of cancer's good benefits, and God knows there are thousands of bad benefits, is that of saying to people some things that perhaps you wanted to say a long time ago but were for whatever reason afraid or unwilling to say. Being old school, it has always been easy for me to tell my women friends or relatives that I loved them but it has been more difficult to say that to my male friends. I don't know why. It just was, but not any more. Recently my friend of 30 years and first boss, Bruce Leamon, and I were talking on the phone exchanging stories and laughs. Bruce is an Executive Coach that travels all over the world and he and his wife Janet live in Washington. Bruce is the "King of Pun", rivaled only by Kevin Klink, the world's funniest chemical engineer. (It is a small pool.) As we talked we became a little emotional. I told him how much I had appreciated his friendship and guidance over the years. He told me that he was supposed to die before me, and then he said something I will remember all the days of my life. He said:
"You'll never know how many people are carrying your voice around with them."
We both got quite and a little choked up. I think I tried to diffuse the situation a little bit by saying something like, "I bet there are a lot of folks that would like to get my voice out of their heads.", but the sentiment was real and overwhelming. Soon we said goodbye and then pledged to get together soon! Bruce's sincere statement made me realize that in the midst of this disease that one of the things I hope is that I am remembered, that my life matters, and than I did more good than harm on my journey.
If there is someone in your life that has made an big impact or mentored you, or helped you along, please don't wait for cancer, or a calamity to tell them. What Bruce gave me yesterday pulled me out of a small funk of feeling sorry for myself for a minute because there didn't seem to be any light at the end of the tunnel, or even an end to the tunnel other than one I didn't want to consider. Fourteen words and Bruce illuminated my path, countered the darkness, and made me feel valued and love.
Tell someone today, or this weekend. And thanks to my buddy Bruce for taking time and having the courage to share his feelings with me. I love you Bruce, and I love all of you! Have a great weekend!
Blessings,
Will
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