I’ve spent the last two days in meetings where I’ve seen an awful lot of old friends, new colleagues, and friends I just haven’t met yet. (Yes, I am that corny. Now. When I used to have a hard-ass job? Not so much.) Nearly everyone has asked about my arm. My wrist. That big wrap on my arm.
But you know what? You guys would have been proud of me. I didn’t duck the question. I didn’t apologize, or minimize. I simply said. “It’s just a side effect. A complication of the cancer I had last year.” Everyone, to a man, has had a sympathetic follow-up. Because I’ve tried it out on you guys, I’m now able to say, “It’s okay. I’m in remission now. But it makes me really glad to be here.” And then we move on to discuss the work of the day.
It’s good. Really good.
And in this context? People are interested in my ideas … and sharing their ideas … and cancer seems so far away from my life.