On April 2, 2024, I got a call I had been anxiously awaiting. A few days previous, I had a colonoscopy that revealed a large growth in my rectum: much larger than the polyps that can be removed during the procedure. The doctor had sent a tissue sample in for biopsy, and I knew she’d be calling at some point on April 2.

And I got the call, in the mid-morning. I was in the middle of a meeting at the time, but I stepped away to take the call. The doctor explained that the biopsy revealed that the growth is carcinogenic: in other words, I have cancer. She said the next step — happening that very afternoon — was for me to go get a CT scan, to determine whether the cancer had metastasized.

After the call ended, I had this very interesting experience. I felt like I was floating, up somehow, and observing my life. I considered the meeting I had just been in, with puzzlement — people had all been talking very fast, and using so many acronyms. So much focus on these very granular details that don’t ultimately have life-or-death significance (a day in the life of a typical technology firm). None of this seemed to matter, compared with the news I had just received. I thought about how I’m usually one of those people quickly spouting out acronyms in these meetings. Indeed, I can be, admittedly, a total firebrand at work — I dig in and debate! About .. acronyms.

Still feeling like I was floating above it all, I also had a sensation of acceptance: it’s all ok. True, all the discussion about acronyms isn’t truly consequential in the scheme of things, but I had this feeling of assurance that everyone involved has good intentions. Including me. All of it … is ok. The cancer diagnosis was immediately shifting my perspective to consider my own mortality. But along with this, there was this expansive “zen” feeling of observing all the moving pieces in my life from above, and just peacefully accepting it all.

I’ve never experienced anything like that before. That was four months ago, and much has happened since then. I am still working, and very much back in the fray, still slinging acronyms, but I am carrying with me that moment of “diagnosis revelation,” and I believe it is truly changing my life for the better. I’m much more focused on my health (particularly diet — but also stress reduction) than I had been before.

Don’t get me wrong: cancer truly sucks. I don’t wish the chemo process on anyone (please get a colonoscopy!). But, surprisingly, the news of a life-threatening disease can bring its own benefits. I do treasure life, now, in a way that I didn’t before.

Oh, and the next day (Apr 3), I got the news from the CT scan: no metastasis (the cancer had not spread to other distant parts of my body). While that was great news to hear, later in April I confirmed, through an MRI scan, that the cancer was spreading locally: in other words, while not stage 4, I’m stage 3. (If you’re curious, the full summary of that MRI is in this google doc).

I hadn’t shared this “origin story” yet in the blog, so I wanted to get this published, as I prepare to share the news a bit more broadly. I’ll be getting the word out more about the upcoming Seattle walk to end colon cancer (I’m a team captain!)

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I’ll do my best to continue to share regular updates in the months ahead. Two chemo infusions down, six more to go…