I have stories I should be working on, but it’s a Saturday! I started feeling bad for myself on this three-hour layover at Chicago O’hare…then I recalled these golden tickets we received in the mail not long ago. Admiral’s Club passes. I dug into my wallet and found one, and got more excited than anyone else in this Admiral’s Club, that’s for sure.
This seems like one of those places where you’re supposed to keep your cool, and act like a free mocha at the airport is no big deal. I did not play it cool upon entry. I instantly snapchatted the smorgasbord of snacks, coffee drinks, and luxury seating out to the world. And I’m sitting here trying desperately not to kick off my vacation with the free cookies glaring at me. They’re so lonely over there. No, I will stay strong. Door County, Wisconsin and all of its Swedish baked temptations await me!
Just thinking about the next 10 days gives me an endorphin rush. Door County, Wisconsin with two of three bros and their families and my mom and pop. If you do not know what Door County is, that’s good. It’s a miserable place. You should probably never Google image it and find out I’m lying. It’s my favorite place on Earth! So I’ll be playing lakeside with the family, and breaking from that to watch Matty G take on the World at World Championships in Kazan, Russia.
Then, on Thursday I’ll jet off to Paris…yeah, Paris, France to watch my training partner and dear pal Sara be married in a civil ceremony. She journeyed around the world to be in our wedding, and although I’ll be missing her 12-hour extravaganza of a wedding in Morocco next month, I will not miss some quality time with this pair in Paris. Then, back on the plane Monday morning, joining up with Matty in Dallas for final leg of travel home. We’ll both be weary, greasy travelers when we reunite, but his will be a nice hand to hold in my most swollen state.
All of that. Those last two paragraphs remind me how fortunate I am. I told my dad I found an Admiral’s Club pass in my wallet and he said “What’s new?” hah. I must agree. If I believed in luck, I’d say Matt and I are dang lucky. This good fortune is not slighted. I savor it.
But I often wonder how can life be so good? Is it because there’s a massive life disaster looming? Or is that just a terribly pessimistic way of thinking? haha.
A couple days ago I spoke with an inspiring person named Kayla Redig. She is 27, like me. She swam in college, like me. She is from Illinois, like Matt. She was diagnosed with breast cancer at 24, unlike anything I’ve had to endure.
A year before she was diagnosed, her father (a guy who looks so young and vivacious in photos, I couldn’t believe he was her dad) was diagnosed with a condition so rare there are something like 85 total known cases in the U.S. He has bleeding in his cerebellum which will eventually take a toll on him physically and cognitively. So this family was hit with a lot over a two-year span.
I’m writing about Kayla for Swimming World’s October issue. My only hesitation in writing her story is that she is a writer. A really good writer. Her responses to my questions were excellent. Going through what she has, her wisdom exceeds that of most 70-somethings. She’s lived a lot in a little.
Her mental strength is uncanny. She realized she had a choice when going through chemo. She could continue to wish God would take her from this world and end her agony, or she could find light in the situation.
How do you find brightness while undergoing chemo? A double mastectomy? Radiation?
Kayla made chemo into theme-o. She saw the recipe for a party at each treatment. People she loved were there. Everyone needed a distraction. She knew she should view chemo as a friend, so this was one way to look forward to treatment. Her themes ranged from Blackhawks, pink-outs, “my favorite things” and wigs for all.
She sent me a photo of Matt decked out in a Blackhawks jersey, supplying two thumbs up, surrounded by some of Kayla’s favorite things. Matt supported her during chemo! I remembered the pic, but never knew the purpose. Pretty cool.
What she said at the end of our interview made me want to weep.
“I couldn’t stop the cancer, but I could find a way to improve the situation.”
How many people never get that far? They hear the diagnosis, think “this sucks,” then drag themselves through the assigned steps.
I read a book on the power of hope (The Anatomy of Hope) in the medical field. There’s a definite correlation between the way the doctor/medical team delivers the diagnosis to a patient with a terminal illness to how long they survive. Kayla’s was not terminal, but it could have been terminal. She had the relentless support of her parents and a fantastic team of nurses and doctors. But ultimately, it’s the patient’s choice to fight with a happy heart.
Kayla chose to make chemo not be synonymous with evil. She reminded herself of the good. She reminded herself of the good in her cancer. It brought so many people she loves together in one room.
“If I can make cancer feel like a good thing, I can make anything better. It seems as though it could always be worse.”
Her misfortune made her more aware of others’ greater misfortune. Those undergoing chemo alone, or with children of their own. Man, if we could only take on Kayla’s perspective. More often than not, we’re stuck on others’ great fortunes, then belittling the blessings in our own lives. Kayla flipped this upside down.
