Chemo Bags 1.0

Adversity doesn't shape us it reveals us.

I called my sister from MIA airport while standing in the line at Starbucks. She was walking me through a checklist of items she'd ordered or gathered for my mom before her first day of chemo:

• Nausea medication, bags and "queasy pops";
• Dry mouth lozenges;
• Laxatives for constipation;
• Water bottle;
• Head phones;
• A wig prescription;
• etc.

The last one got me. I pictured mom coming home, alone, holding a prescription for a wig and knowing she would be losing her hair, eyebrows, etc. among other things like fingernails, energy and will to carry on.

Cancer is not new in the family. Mom has been dealing with it since I was entering my junior year in high school. Nearly 15 years with 2 half mastectomies, going flat and the fucked up medications taken for 5+ years at a time to control hormones.

In April it spread to mom's lungs and we were lucky to catch it early. I was there when she had the growths removed and we thought we were in the clear. Then we got the news that the form of cancer was aggressive and likely in cells behind the walls of her lungs.

Time had come again for mom to rise up and be brave. And for me, duty called. Mom as a day 1 is an understatement. She's been the only consistent person in my life after my grandmother.

As I was boarding the plane to go back to be with her, there were many emotions but what was starkly different this time around is that I wasn't surprised or as moved. Just a few weeks ago I had gotten the cancer ribbon on my middle-finger. And if I'm honest much of this has felt inevitable given the duration.

But the feeling was like butterflies before the first thud of pads in a football game. My mind was fairly quiet, I could hear my heart beat and I knew that I had been here before. Many times before, for my family and others, I've felt almost a burden to be there, to be strong and that people counted on me.

The timing of life is funny in that it doesn't care what your plans are. Not my mom's plans to live out the last 10-15 years of her life, retire and hopefully see her kids grow old, get married, etc. and not your plans either.

Lessons

Tough times really are a gift. But I like to take the quote above a step further.

Adversity reveals and it shapes.

Adversity rips your armor off, revealing & sobering who you are today. And then you fight it without all of the armor (mental, emotional, physical) you've accumulated. And as you push through, you earn more plates.

Going into the week I really reflected on timing. I am a new CEO and recently found love interest for the first time in a very long time. Why was this happening? How could I manage it all? Why was I thinking about myself?

The week was challenging, sleepless and important. I wanted to share some thoughts I've had and I'll continue to come back to these as I work through them and as my mom goes through treatment.

1. Being in two places at once is impossible. I had a lot on my mind in terms of my mom, the business and a good distraction. Innately, I have a very hard time and it drives me nuts if in my heart I know I did not get fully present in situations like these. I knew that going into the week. I like to use a regret minimization framework: "In X years, will I regret not being there for this person or situation?" - if the answer is yes, it's simple. Be there. And when it comes to the few people I love, it's just a business trip, there's no questions on it. But the reality is that I was not successful this week. I let a number of things get in the way of me knowing deep down that I gave everyting I could to my mom. But I am lucky. Lucky that I can be there in 3 weeks for round 2...and again for round 3 &4...and I can be better. And I will. Many don't get this opportunity.
2. Anger solves nothing: be zen, be stoic. Growing up I had a lot things that drove my anger. Seeing mom go through cancer was a big one. It felt unfair. With age, I realize it's a wasted emotion that prevents you from seeing things clearly. There is something sobering about the idea of an ending that forces you into a place of clarity. It feels like a super power. But it's fleeting, for me at least, as I let other things come into my aperture. I wish I could bottle it up, minus the circumstances that have created it.
3. People don't care and that's ok. 99% of people don't actually care about what you're doing, what's happening with your family/loved ones, etc. They'll reach out for favors, but be silent when it comes to support. With age, I've realized that it's actually on you not them for having unrealistic and frankly unproductive expectations.