Ron's Blog

Whenever someone comes up to me and says, “Walk with me,” two experiences come to mind. The first is when my tenth grade math teacher led me out into the hallway and told me that my spontaneous comments during class, while quite hilarious, made it feel like I had more control over the classroom than she did. She wanted me to cede that control. All I really heard though were the words, “hilarious” and “control.” I was quite proud of my accomplishment and I even considered negotiating some sort of deal if I agreed to give up my witty repartee. But I was afraid that I might negotiate my way into the principal’s office so I held my tongue. For those of you who know me, “holding my tongue” is not a phrase you would likely use to describe me.

The second experience happened many years later when the CEO of my organization led me into his office and offered me the position of Chief Operating Officer. After thinking about it for several days, I told him that I was not interested. He looked shocked and said that nobody had ever turned down one of his promotions. In my mind, I thought, “That’s because I’m not nobody.” What I knew, however, was that the job was a terrible fit for my skills. Plus, I would have spent most of my time just putting out fires. Today, as an old man, but somewhat new firefighter, I realize that putting out actual fires is kind of fun. Putting out work fires, not so much.

So, whenever I hear “walk with me,” I immediately get a bit anxious. That being said, I have recently learned that having someone walk with me is a gift that deserves some consideration.

When I was diagnosed with metastatic cancer back in February of 2024, it never occurred to me that it might be a life or death situation. You’d think a former hospice social worker would consider all the alternatives. Instead, just like most people, I confidently denied any negative outcome and figured things would just work out. But honestly, I was more annoyed than scared because, prior to the diagnosis, I was quite healthy. Oh sure, I had the occasional alcoholic beverage, “treated” myself to a Big Mac a couple of times a year, and definitely had an affinity towards sweets. But for the most part, I ate well, I exercised regularly, and had no medical problems. In fact, I wasn’t even on medication for high blood pressure or an enlarged prostate even though most of my friends were. But to my surprise, cancer doesn’t discriminate. You can get cancer regardless of your race, age, sex, or health status. It can happen to anybody which, apparently, includes me. Go figure. 

So, when I got the diagnosis, that’s where my current journey began.

Throughout my treatment, many healthcare professionals walked with me regardless of how annoying I was. They graciously guided me through the process and answered endless questions. They didn’t judge me when I asked for another oxycodone right after my surgery—just in case I had pain. They didn’t bat an eye while rebooting the computer that ran my radiation treatment and I asked if they had turned off the radiation stream during the reboot (yes, I’m that annoying). And none of the doctors seem bothered when, during my many follow-up exams, they told me that I “looked really good” and I responded, “I’ve heard that my whole life.” Instead, they just laughed and continued to walk with me.

Once I got into the treatment process, I discovered that several friends were going through similar challenges. My high school tennis coach had a similar cancer surgery. We exchanged photos of our scars and compared what foods tasted good since the radiation treatment had fried our taste buds. I learned that a former colleague was about to have her second kidney transplant and we exchanged texts about the annoyances of navigating the complex healthcare system. We found out that my wife’s college housemate was on chemotherapy for lymphoma and was about to undergo a stem cell transplant. She and I discussed how this was not our plans for retirement. And finally, my own college roommate’s brother-in-law had the exact same surgery and radiation treatment that I had, about two months after I did. We texted many times to discuss what I had experienced as a way of preparing for his own experience. I felt like a “cancer sherpa” and was grateful to be a resource. I am still in touch with all of these people and we continue to walk together on this ever-winding road of recovery.

Many friends and family sent cards, emails, and texts. I received beautiful cards with get-well wishes, lovely sentiments, and a few with totally inappropriate snarky humor—which was right up my alley! I received a care package from one friend with a gift to open each Monday during my radiation treatments. I received food, flowers, plants, and was honored with a written prayer note that was placed in the Western Wall in Jerusalem by my friend’s son. All of these gestures touched me. The people behind them were walking with me, and continue to do so.

And by far, my family was the source of much strength during my recovery. My kids, their spouses, and my extended family called or texted regularly to see how I was doing. My kids gave me a gift basket of pre-surgery items, including a cross stitch kit showing Star Wars characters that said, “May the Force Be With You.” As an aside, I had learned how to do needlepoint in my high school art class where, by the way, I wasn’t as disruptive as I was in my tenth grade math class. Later, my mother taught me how to cross stitch. It has become a wonderful pastime for me even during my recovery. Now that I think about it, the surgeon who sutured the huge incision in my neck had excellent skills and would probably be a world-class needlepointer. But I digress. Clearly, my family walked with me the entire way, and still do.

Finally, my wife has been on a marathon walk. From the very beginning, she was the voice of reason. When my initial ENT doctor gave me the option of allowing him to do the surgery, even though he didn’t do them that often, or going to the University of Virginia hospital where they had multiple surgeons who specialized in that kind of surgery, my wife blurted out, “We’re going to UVA.” It was a tad bit awkward but definitely the right decision. She also helped me remember questions to ask the doctors, comforted me when I got frustrated, and always cared about the next step in the process. She not only walked with me, she still loves me even after all of my day-to-day whining about rashes, fatigue, and running out of ice cream.

The reason I share this with you is that none of us are alone in this world. Even though it sometimes feels like we are, there are people out there who want to walk with us on this journey called life. We need to remember that whenever we go through difficulties. Not only are friends and family helpful, they appreciate being needed.

So, as we go into the holiday season, where things are not always as cheerful as they’re supposed to be, we should remember to appreciate the people who are walking beside us. And perhaps when it feels like we don’t have anyone beside us, we may need to make the first move to reach out for support.

I often feel that I can do things on my own and that I don’t need any help. But, having just gone through a serious health challenge, I realize that I only got through it because of the people who walked with me. And to me, that is a true blessing.