Skip, We’re Gonna Make It!

Remember the George Clooney movie, The Perfect Storm, based on the true story of the Andrea Gail, a fishing boat that sunk during (you guessed it) a really bad storm? Not a Clooney fan? I get it. But let me remind you that both Marky Mark Wahlberg and John C., Freaking, Reilly are also in it — fantastic. Anyway, there’s one particular line that’s always stuck in my head. It’s towards the end of the movie and our heroes have been fighting hurricane-force winds and 100-foot waves for some time. Just when it looks like all is lost, Clooney (the captain) and his sidekick, Marky Mark, look out at the kaleidoscope of wind and waves, and sunlight breaks through the clouds. The guys below deck gather around a little window and do the same. But as quickly as the light appears, it fades. Then Clooney, cold, exhausted, and soaked to the bone, delivers the line, almost to himself: “She’s not gonna let us out.” She being the storm. Seconds later the sky is black again, the wind picks up, and the waves heave. It’s a great line in a great scene, and unfortunately, it’s spot on – let’s just say things don’t end well for the crew of the Andrea Gail.

I’m thinking of that line now, because we’ve been living in that sunlight for the past 14 months, but, unfortunately, a storm system popped up on the radar this week. The long and short of it: I got my scan Wednesday, and things are progressing a bit. One of the tumors in my lungs is not cooperating at all, and that pain I’ve had in my ribs since March? Turns out it’s a new tumor (and maybe a fracture?). So, it’s time to put the mouthpiece back in and get off the stool (yes, I did just transition from a boat/storm metaphor to a boxing metaphor). I have a whirlwind of appointments (consults, scans, biopsies, etc.) scheduled over the next two weeks. It looks like I’ll be getting another chunk of lung cut out up in NYC (provided the surgeon is willing and able to have a go of it), absorbing some more radiation, and possibly taking a flyer on a clinical trial at the National Cancer Institute this summer.

Needless to say, this was a surprise for us. Last Saturday, I broke my speed record for the completely arbitrary 5-mile route I do almost daily on my mountain bike. Then we went to a party at the Lyons, and I dominated a four-hour stretch of cornhole (sorry, Frankie Two Phones). Then on Monday I went out and rode 25 miles. That’s the way it’s been the past several months. I’ve kept getting stronger on the bike, kept working, took a trip to Cali with Graber, etc. etc. etc. In fact, I have continued on a steady upward trajectory since my big surgery last April, and I can honestly say the last year has been the best of my life in so many ways. But it seems cancer doesn’t care much how far or how fast you can run or ride a bike. That’s okay. For the record, I don’t really give a f**k what cancer does or does not care about at this point. In fact, I just put in a 10-miler this morning, which put me over my 1-week total mileage record (since cancer). After all, as good as that Clooney line is in The Perfect Storm, I much prefer the one delivered in the same scene by Wahlberg: “Skip, we’re gonna make it!” Maybe in the end, the Andrea Gail does indeed go down, but you better bet your ass, when we last see good ol’ Marky Mark, he’s still out there treading water.

Of course, this swaggerish tone isn’t to say I haven’t gone through the whole “why me?” cycle the past few days. Nobody parties harder at a pity-party than I do. But it’s occurred to me that maybe, in some strange way … God just wants me in the fight. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. But it’s occurred to me that maybe I am a better version of myself when I’m staring this challenge right in the face. Maybe my faith comes into sharper relief. Maybe I have my priorities just a little straighter. Maybe I’m a little kinder, more compassionate, more forgiving, more loving, more appreciative. I don’t know. When you have stage-4 cancer, you can never really forget that you have stage-4 cancer. It’s always there, even when you feel relatively good. Because of this, not a day has gone by the past year that I haven’t been grateful for the life I’m living. But there have been times when I’ve had to go back and read the “Stage-5 Truths” I posted last year. Times when I have had to remind myself of the wisdom that has come from this mess, the truths that lie beyond pain and sickness and heartbreak. I’m gonna paste these truths to the bottom of this post as a tangible anchor to keep me solid and stable as I get back in the ring (wait, see what I just did there? I actually combined the boat and fighting metaphors into one – like maybe a new sport where you box on the deck of a boat in a storm? … sorry, I digress).

But before I go there, I want to ask for thoughts and prayers for my cousin-more-like-a-brother, Jim Pendergast, and his family. Jim was the only soul I knew in the state of Colorado when I moved there for grad school. In him, I found a kindred spirit on every level. Over the past 25 years or so, our bond has been shaped and hardened by a thousand long conversations and many, many adventures. I climbed my first fourteener and paddled my first whitewater with Jim. I gained a greater appreciation for the natural world around me from Jim. I learned what it’s like to live off the grid and make a piece of furniture from a downed tree from Jim. I was there the night Jim met his lovely wife, Sharon. Their awesome kids, Jacob and Emma, were born within months of my two oldest kids, and when we were pregnant with Tegan and learned we’d be facing some unique challenges, where did we end up? In Colorado, with Jim lending a compassionate ear to my fears and anxieties. Jim is a husband, father, mountain man, craftsman, philosopher, and a thousand other things – truly one of a kind. Just six weeks ago, he got on a plane and came out here to visit. We shared three amazing days together. We hiked, drank a few beers, sat by the fire, and spent the better part of one day walking the mall in D.C. (Jim is a big history buff too – shocker). We never stopped talking, of course. About everything. Life, death, marriage, kids, music, books, movies, the proper way to start a fire, whether Russell Wilson will really be able to turn around the Broncos, and, unfortunately, cancer. As I’ve written before, Jim’s a fellow stage-4 guy, and, unfortunately, his fight has entered the final rounds these past few weeks. I love you, brother. I celebrate you. I am grateful for all you have taught me. Most certainly, you have played a big role in me discovering the truths below.

Updates as they unfold … until then, thank you again for all the prayers and support for our family. Peace out!

Stage 5 Truths

Today is the only day. The past and the future exist only in the thoughts and emotions I allow myself to have about them right now, in this moment, today. So, get busy living. Take things in stride. Do good. Savor all the blessings, big and small, that come your way. But most of all, stay in today.

What’s my mission? God has a purpose and a plan for me, but only to the extent I’m willing to seek out that purpose and accept that plan. If I’m open, if I’m seeking, if I’m accepting, there will come at least one moment today when a purpose will be revealed. It might be big (running into a burning building to save a life – not likely, but you never know – hey, maybe that’s why I need to get faster?). It might be mid-sized (dropping what I’m doing and reaching out to someone I know is in need). It might be very small (just holding the door for someone at the gas station or bringing a smile out in someone that really needs one). Regardless of import, if my heart and mind are open, I’ll recognize these moments, these purposes. And when I fulfill them – when I become an instrument of God’s will – I’ll feel great joy and peace.

Have gratitude. You feel closest to God in moments of gratitude. It’s a direct line to the Big Man, and it never fails. All things you’ve been given, all blessings bestowed on you, everything you have or ever will accomplish, come from above. Big and small. A good scan, a nice vacation, a positive book review? Thank God. A great cup of coffee, a favorite song coming on the radio, or finding the kids somehow overlooked the leftover pizza in the fridge? Thank God. You’ll have a thousand reasons to be thankful today. Try to recognize them and give thanks.

You are not alone. 7+ billion lives. There are 7+ billion lives, other than your own, unfolding on this planet, right now. Stop for a moment and imagine: An old dude farming a rice paddy in China, a single mom juggling work and kids in Nairobi, a snazzy banker in Switzerland, a newborn baby in a NICU in Sydney, a roofer pounding nails in the Texas sun, a homeless teen in Tacoma, a monk in Tibet, the Queen of England … 7+ billion lives, right now … and you are connected to each of them. Close your eyes and you can feel that connection, in fact. Regardless of our differences, we’re all children of God – all manifestations of the same life force, if you will. And we all share the following: each of our lives is filled with triumphs and defeats, hope and despair, joy and suffering. Life is messy sometimes, and we are all imperfect. But life is a beautiful blessing too, and we’re all in it together. You are connected, you are a part of something bigger, you are not alone.

Your life is the blink of an eye. No matter how you approach it, from the known history of the cosmos or the concept of eternity as put forth in scripture, your life in this world is the blink of an eye – finite and fleeting. That’s okay. In fact, take comfort in this. Don’t take things so seriously. There’s more than this – more to life than … life. You know it. You feel it. Eventually, you’ll get to experience it. In the meantime, don’t seek heaven on earth, eternity in this life, just focus on doing good and taking pleasure in the small blessings, the beautiful moments, the clarity, and the connections.

Have faith in your faith, as imperfect as it is. Foxhole faith is real, because foxholes are real. Don’t doubt your faith because it drops out of focus a little when things are going well. No matter how blessed a life you live, one thing is certain: you will eventually find yourself in a foxhole, and the faith that comes out then, the comfort you take in it, is real. Respect that faith. Grow that faith. If this is a bad day, lean on that faith. If this is a good day, don’t forget to pay it its due. And while you’re at it, speaking of faith, don’t be so clever that you end up a fool. Remember what you once wrote: “I won’t deny religion can’t seem to get out of its own way. It’s as primitive and imperfect as we are, I suppose. But it’s what we have. We have to get the nail in the wood somehow, don’t we? We don’t look at a hammer and list its inefficiencies. We pick it up and let it swing, right?”

Know your legacy. If every ambition you’ve ever had in your entire life somehow came to fruition, at best, in a few generations, you’d still be just a footnote. You only have one legacy on this earth: how much and how well you love, and how that love impacts the lives around you. So, go ahead, have ambition, set goals, chase dreams. Take pleasure in the chase, and give thanks when things work out. But don’t mistake any of it for the real thing. Live today knowing what your true legacy will be.