I am superstitious. It's not something I talk about often because 1) it's crazy and 2) something bad might happen if I talk about being superstitious.
Rewind my life to November of 2015, I got a job with the Department of Health. After a long run of unemployment, I was ready to not jinx any new opportunities coming to my life. With a new start in a fun career, I did not want to take any risks. I was not going to let Life find out I was happy because then it would have a chance to take it away.
So I froze.
I went quiet.
I thought that if I didn't write about the fun I was having then it wouldn't go away. It was like adjusting the TV antennas during a favorite program and finding the right placement but the static returns as soon you let go and walk away. Life was finally in focus and I liked it.
I still like it. I love my job. I have great coworkers. I get to work downtown in the civic center and see all the cool buildings every day.
I get to drive a big truck all around the city and hunt mosquitoes.
We got a car. We go explore the city an surrounding areas more. We go see Kim's family on a regular basis. We can easily get all of our Costco stuff home.
We moved into a new apartment. Well, new to us. It doesn't have leaky ceilings and we have bedrooms! More than one bedroom!!! We no longer share a bedroom!
We really like our ward. They are great. They accept us as we are.
We have made some incredible friends and had great times with them.
Life was good, and Life decided it was time for a change.
In February I went to my Urologist for an exam. I knew from the expression on his face that I had cancer again. My first thought was: shit.
My thoughts for the next hour were: shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
I had my turn with cancer. It was time for someone else to get it, not me. This really, really sucks. But after some crying, soul searching, praying, crying, insomnia, and talking with friends, I think I am ready to start this all over again.
I'm fortunate to have decent insurance that has Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital in network. I got in right away. I have some of the best doctors and nurses in the world on my side. I have a great job that is understanding and flexible with my leave. I have a wonderful wife who is by my side. I have a terrific kid who encourages me each day to be brave. I have dedicated friends who have stepped up so I could rest.
So on the eve of my surgery to start this entire process I have come to the conclusion that my first round of cancer taught me to be strong, and my second round of cancer will teach me how to lean. I will lean on you because I cannot do this on my own.
If you pray, I will accept your faith.
If you sing, I will listen to your songs.
If you write, I will read your words.
If you cook, I will eat your food.
If you meditate, I will share your peace.
If you cry, I will join your tears.
If you laugh, I will laugh along.
If you hug, please hug my family.
There is a stanza from my favorite poem that makes a lot more sense to me these days. Whittier wrote "and so beside the silent sea I wait the muffled oar, no harm from Him can come to me on ocean or on shore". I used to think that the muffled oar was death coming to take us away. I now see that the muffled oar is just another day of life that sometimes takes us to shore and sometimes takes us out to sea. It's happening, I can pretend it isn't, but it is. I don't know where I am going or where I will end up, but I know that I am in good hands.
(who would have thought it would take cancer to get me to write on this blog again?)
((Kim sends out an email with updates, if you want to get in on the list, email her kimberlyegbert@gmail.com)
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