The Grind Begins

Sigh... I have known this post day would come.

I am writing to say that I will be posting less often from now on, because I need to start focusing on my MBA work. But I will definitely keep this blog up and running, and I look forward to the insights I will gain as an MBA student!

There is so much more to learn and there will never be enough time to learn it, but I look forward to continuing to chronicle what I do learn (and when I do learn it) here.

So - sigh. But! Yay!

Onward.

Leroy Sievers, 1955-2008

Oh gosh. This is a sad one.

Header courtesy of NPR

Leroy Sievers, a well-known journalist, died last night. He was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2001, and passed away at the age of 53.

I have been following Leroy's cancer journey through his NPR blog, My Cancer. I must admit, I didn't read it as thoroughly as I could have - the parallels to my stepdad hit a little too close to home. But the blog is astonishing in its candor, and if you have the emotional energy for it, I greatly encourage you to read it.

Sievers began the blog in February 2006, when his cancer returned after first being treated four years earlier. What began as colon cancer had spread to his brain and lung. Sievers was told he had six months to live. Two and a half years later - this morning, at 7:59AM eastern time - came the post that began, "Dear Friends: I'm so sorry to bring you this news." And it wasn't written by Leroy.

Cancer never ceases to deal bad hands to good people, which, to me, is the most frustrating thing about it.

But instead, I try to focus on the silver lining: look at Sievers' legacy. Not only did he have an exceptional career as a journalist, but he has also left us his blog, My Cancer, the accomplishment of which he said he was most proud. This blog is tragic, but full of insight and even - way down deep in there, between the lines and beyond the pixels - hope.

What was to be Leroy's final post came on Thursday, August 14th. He titled it "The Dog We Never Had," and he wrote:

"He is the dog we never had.

He's a Bernese Mountain dog. A big one. We always knew what his name was going to be ...'Spanky' ... no matter what.

The fact that he would be a toy didn't really bother us. We couldn't have a real one because we both traveled too much.

So here he is, sitting with me on the bed. My comrade in cancer.

A boy and his dog."

To me, this post encapsulates the cancer journey. When my stepdad John was sick, especially in the final weeks and days of his life, we were all swirling in a sea of emotion. But even during that tumultuous time, I couldn't help but be fascinated by how the simplest things brought him joy. Like a child. This brilliant man, a physicist and an eternal academic, smiling like a boy in the final days of his life.

I remember thinking to myself at the time, "So this is the circle of life. It's not a cliche after all." Leroy Sievers' final post captures the same feeling. "A boy and his dog." Tragically, Leroy Sievers' circle, like John's, closed far too early. But how phenomenal that he let us all inside before it did.


For complete NPR coverage, click here.