It’s been 3 years since my last post. It feels like it’s been so much longer. I kicked cancer in the ass, I now have 3 amazing kids, and Donald Trump is a year out from completing his 1st (and I pray his only) term.
I’ve wanted to write this post for a long time, but got sort of complacent in knowing, or at least feeling, that the worst was behind me. I’ve had several follow up scans now and the results have been perfect. Each scan, and really the waiting, gets a little less scary. God, the waiting is really the worst. It’s hard for your mind to not race in a million different directions thinking about all of the endless ramifications of a bad result. And you’ve got plenty of time to play out scenarios. They usually make you wait 1-2 days before getting the results (unless you know someone in the radiology department where the scans go who can fast track a reading. Thanks Bido 
This last scan from a couple months ago was, unsurprisingly, the least intimidating one yet. I crushed the scan and the results came back perfect. On a whim, I decided to check out the fancy new infusion room now that Seton got its new digs. Holy lap of luxury – if only I had gotten sick a bit later! Kidding, kidding. It was remarkable to see some of the same amazing nurses doing yeoman’s work, just like 3 years ago. Moving from patient to patient, checking charts, watching the clock, changing IV and drug bags, saving lives. Every now and then I think about sending them flowers; why the heck haven’t I? I need to take flowers and Tiff’s Treats next time I go.
Rewinding back to 2016 for a moment – after my treatments and after my “Victory” party with friends and family – Beeral and I got some amazing, but at first terrifying, news to close out the year. We were going to have another baby. This was of course a miraculous thing, but the terror came in the uncertainty around the timing. What if it was too close to the chemo? What if there were complications? It didn’t take long for us to consult with the experts and it quickly became clear that this was a blessing, plain and simple. It was a reward for our family keeping our collective heads up through a difficult year. And man, was it a reward. Reva, now 2, is simply awesome. I never knew how much I wanted a girl until I got one.
As I write this and reflect on the last few years, I have to remind myself how lucky I am to be here. It’s easy to think about my bout with cancer as a challenge that I overcame and one that I’m now stronger for. It’s not easy to think about the other possible outcomes. Nonetheless, I force myself to during reflective moments like this or when I witness how, sometimes, people just can’t persevere. There are so many examples around me. One of the more recent ones was an incredible fight that a family friend lost to cancer. It was one of those stories where he surpassed any estimate the doctors gave him. Even until the end, he clung on with everything he had, pouring his all into those final moments that turned into final days, refusing to say goodbye to his loved ones. Sadly, he wasn’t one of the lucky ones and sometimes it’s hard to find reason in it all.
I’m essentially out of the woods. All that means is the probability of it coming back are much lower once you get past the high-risk window 3 years out. You never know when the darn thing will rear its ugly head, but this is at least what the doctor and statistics say. I regularly check my neck, usually by happenstance when I feel the scar tissue and subsequently feel around for anything out of the ordinary. It’s sort of a reflex.
Thought it’s probably inconsistent and completely unclear in my voice, I am more than anything writing these posts to you, my children – Rayan, Aiden, and now Reva. Yes, friends and family as well, but my primary motivation was and is to share my experiences from this time of my life with you when you would be old enough to understand. Assuming that is now, years and years later, I want you to know that, even if I could, I wouldn’t change a thing about what happened. I am so fortunate to be where I am today – surrounded by an amazing family whom I can’t begin to express how much I cherish and love – that I wouldn’t dare change a thing on my path here for fear of screwing it up. We are all built from a combination of nature and experience. My experiences include overcoming a pretty nasty obstacle. But here I am, standing and living. And here you all are, with a glimpse into your Dad’s past. Now do me a favor and give your Dad a call
Love, Dad