In my last post I talked about some challenging news my wife and family received about her health: a breast cancer diagnosis. This came just in advance of our 12th wedding anniversary and, of course, in the throes of my latest and continuing Ironman preparations.
So the latest? After celebrating our anniversary with a stay in an Edmonton hotel - as adventurous as celebrations can get in the middle of a pandemic - we met with her oncoplastic surgeon to get further interpretation of what her diagnosis, treatment plan and prognosis was likely to be. I have to say it is sobering to be in a room - staying largely silent - as a physician and your wife discuss surgical options ranging from lumpectomy to mastectomy, survival and satisfaction rates post-surgical intervention, how radiation and/or chemotherapy come into play and so on. It's more than surreal.
However, what we arrived at was the intervention required was not only not life-threatening, but it was also (at this point) not life-altering either. It seems strange to say this given the short but challenging journey we were on up to that point, but the surgical and medical intervention required is quite limited and contained. That being said, we are still months away from conclusion, with surgery taking place in late May, followed by recovery, followed by a course of radiation. So still much for my wife to endure and still more worry for the family to navigate. Regardless, these are far better outcomes than could have occurred. And certainly a far better reality than that facing so many others who have faced - and lost - a battle with cancer.
So much more different than the reality that faced Ronan Smyth and his family.
For several weeks I could start to feel the real powerlessness and fear that Ronan's family must have faced when they got his cancer diagnosis. For them it was clear relatively soon that there was no potential for a positive outcome. Rather, they knew from the outset that time was limited. I held on to that fear for only a few weeks. It was enough.
My wife and I have had some pretty deep discussions in the past several weeks. All the what-if scenarios. How long this journey to health might take her. What that might mean for the whole family during that time. What we would do to prepare if, should it happen, that she wouldn't be in our lives sometime in the future. How would I manage as a single parent - again. A lot of future surfing and most of it not of the positive kind.
Ronan and his family faced the same situation. While Ronan got the cancer diagnosis, his family carried the hit, the burden, the worry, and the anxiety of losing a son and a brother. And there was to be no miracle cure. There was every reason to ponder the future to come after Ronan's passing.
Ronan didn't give into despair - or at least not entirely. I am absolutely certain that denial, anger, sadness, anxiety, and a host of other emotions turned up for Ronan and his family on a regular basis. But he also adopted a mantra of Why Not? After being told of his diagnosis, he started - as his parents would call it - a crazy list. He was intent on living life to the fullest during the time left to him and pursued the completion of his list with vengeance. In that he was supported not only by his family, but also by a larger community, including people he had never met. This commitment to living led him to meet his hockey hero Carey Price, flip the coin at the beginning of an Eskimos game, and leap out of plane for not one but two skydiving adventures! More courage and bravado than I!
On Ronan's first jump, I was told he feared nothing. He asked his tandem partner for barrel rolls and anything that could be thrown at him. On the next jump he wanted to take the leap going backward! And he was accommodated!
Ronan's mother tells me he rarely complained about his fate. Make no mistake, there were discussions about why me, but this perspective was significantly overshadowed by his determination to see what he could accomplish in the time remaining to him. He decided to challenge his food with all kinds of different foods. He spent his savings enjoying the life left to him and looking to experience all that he could. He became a fearless adrenaline junky, riding in fast cars and motorcycles. And not only did he do this for himself, he was also able to convince other family and friends to join him in his adventures. He convinced them to share in his Why Not adventures! Ronan's journey served as a reminder that life is precious and needs to be cherished every day.
Ronan's journey continues to inspire my own Why Not and What If fundraising and Ironman challenge. As does my wife's more hopeful and optimistic cancer journey.
Ironman Canada is now four months away. My fundraising goal is $90,000 away from completion.
F#ck cancer.
Home - Greg Hadubiak Cops for Cancer Ironteam (akaraisin.com)
Are you with me?
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Excellent post, Greg. Very pleased to hear about Heidi and your family and I appreciated the insight you have shared about Ronan.
ReplyDeleteSending my best. Your healthcare knowledge can be both helpful and a hindrance as you navigate appointments and decisions. Those personal, deep conversations are difficult, but very important. Wishing you both my best as you navigate this journey.
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