On Being Right and Facing the Razor
Some insights from my fellow chemo patients and a trip to the hair salon...
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On Tuesday, I went for chemo as usual. Everything was in order: blood work was good, weight was good, even the embarrassing urine sample was good. I hooked up to the chair and the pump, and my nurses and I started the process of treatment.
During my time in the chair, I had a phone interview with someone from Newsweek magazine. They emailed me a couple of weeks ago about potentially become a contributor to their website and magazine, under a program they called the Newsweek Expert Forum.
It’s a completely legit program that features experts from various industries writing articles that help people better understand the world. There are plenty of benefits to joining the program, and while I was honored to be asked to join, there was a catch: the price for membership. I don’t want to put anyone’s business on the street, so let me just say this—it was a bit higher than I expected.
I went from feeling honored to feeling bummed, all in the span of 20 minutes. But I shook it off about five minutes later, realizing that there would be other opportunities for me somewhere down the road.
If you’ve read any of my newsletters, you know that’s one of the benefits of cancer: it helps you to focus. Not only to put your full concentration into a specific moment, but to see greater truths that you might have otherwise missed. Our lives are so cluttered these days with various messages, promises, threats, and dreams that it is often difficult for even the most rational person to find the solid ground of reality.
Believe it or not, reality is a hot topic in the infusion center. I’m usually the youngest person in the room, so I’m typically surrounded by people who have at least a decade on me. They have no problem chatting with the nurses about politics and what’s wrong with the world, and usually their diagnosis is always the same:
People just don’t know what’s right anymore.
There’s wisdom in that statement (the Bible says that eventually people will abandon solid reasoning and chase after their own conceits), but often what follows that statement is anything less than wise.
Usually, it’s a boatload of conspiracy stuff.
Weird conspiracy stuff.
The conspiracies flow both directions, so it’s not like I’m picking on one group of people. There’s a strong sense in the treatment room that no one can be trusted; the media, government, universities, all of the major institutions that we used to trust to help us define and stand on the truth are now broken carnivals of greed and manipulation, and in many cases stuff much worse than that.
In their ramblings, however, the one thing they are certain of—and I mean dead, solid sure of—is that their understanding and view of the world is the 100% dead-on, accurate truth. They have the inside information; they understand the machinery and machinations of our current age better than anyone else, and if people would only listen to them, things would be corrected and improved almost immediately.
I’m a reflective guy, and spend a lot of time in my head—probably too much time, honestly. But for all of the benefits I’ve received thanks to my penchant for nerdiness, there’s also a pitfall I must navigate. It’s a trap from which there’s little hope of return once you fall all the way in.
It’s the trap of believing “I’m right.”
You can fall into that trap pretty easily; all you have to do is limit the number of dissenting voices in your life, and voila! You’ve created your own sweet little echo chamber. Suddenly, no outside voices can penetrate or disrupt your personal fortress of mental solitude.
As a cancer patient, that’s the worst possible thing I could do. Imagine me shutting out the opinions of my doctors or the observations of my wonderful nurses? Heck, while I was in the chair on Tuesday, a gentlemen across the room from me suddenly went flushed; his face and hands turned beet red, and he began to complain about his chest.
The nurses jumped into action, asking him questions, taking various vitals, and eventually they brought in the fellow’s doctor who immediately recommended a particular medication that she felt would calm the situation down rapidly. The nurses went over the benefits and warnings about the med, and then asked the gentleman if was okay with taking the pill.
Imagine if he’d pulled out his phone and Googled his symptoms right then. Or imagine him calling a friend of his who always wanted to be a doctor and asked her what she thought of his symptoms.
It would be insanity. And it could cost him dearly.
Fortunately, he quickly acquiesced to the recommendation of the staff, and within ten minutes his color had returned and he was breathing better. Following the advice of the trained staff turned out to be the smart decision for him—the right decision.
Reflecting on this, I come away believing that you have to be humble if you want to be right. You can’t be arrogant or self-indulgent; you must have a spirit of humility and learning, a willingness to admit that you might be wrong.
Or to just admit that you’re wrong, period.
I’m not a pushover when it comes to the doctor; my home health care nurse who comes to visit often suggests small remedies that I might try, and while I appreciate her desire to be helpful, I don’t just take her word for it because she’s a nurse. Instead, I bring her advice to my primary doctors and process it with them.
Why do I do that?
One, because my primary oncologist knows what’s going on in my body better than anyone else. Her staff knows the meds I’m taking, the procedures I’ve been through, and the general course of my condition during my time under their care. While my home health care nurse has access to that info as well, she doesn’t have the history and experience. She has information, yes, but not all information is equal.
Learning that lesson—really absorbing it into my heart and mind—has been a big part of my journey with cancer. I can’t afford to be resistant to everything, nor can I afford to just take everything at face value. I have to be wise, be thoughtful, in everything I do because my very life depends on it.
In the end, intractability and gullibility are the same thing—mindsets that make you vulnerable to harmful ideas and beliefs.
The good news is that when you’re willing to do the hard work, when you fight against the echo chambers and resist the urge to conform to ideas that fit your preconceived notions, you’re free to live life abundantly. You experience joy and freedom because you’re not weighed down by the constant wrestling with truth and reality.
And understanding that truth allowed me to walk into the Sport Clips in Loganville on Tuesday afternoon and let a young stylist take a razor to my head.
After weeks of slowing watching my hair fall out, my family and I decided it was time to fast-forward the process. So I plopped down in a chair and let someone shave my head. The story would probably be better if I dramatized it, but the truth is that the experience wasn’t so bad.
My one biggest fear with shaving my head has always been that I would have a funny looking dome; bumpy and lumpy and looking like a cartoon character after one too many whacks to the head.
I needn’t have been afraid.
Turns out my head is nice and symmetrical, with only the smallest of scars running across the front.1 I posted photos to Instagram and was immediately greeted with comparisons to Professor Charles Xavier, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and Walter White. Later comps included Lex Luthor and Ming the Merciless.
(God bless the nerds in my life.)
I’ve spent a lot of time rubbing my head over the past few days, usually whenever the chemo side effects have been a bit harsh and I needed a distraction, but overall I’ve quickly adjusted to my new look. It helps that my family didn’t make a big deal out of it, except to tell me how good I looked.
My sweet people haven’t subjected me to any bald jokes or teasing, and for that I am grateful.
We closed out the week by celebrating Jon’s 12th birthday on Saturday.
We let him have full control over the festivities and schedule, so he chose to forego a party, ordered just enough cake for the family, and we settled down to play his new Nintendo Switch on our living room TV.
We downloaded a bunch of classic Nintendo games, along with the latest version of MarioKart, and it only took me 7 minutes to prove to him something I’ve told him for years:
I thoroughly suck at video games.
After three races in MarioKart, he turned to me and said, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were bad at video games.”
He only seemed slightly disappointed at that fact. But the disappointment gave way to joy when he realized it meant he could pretty much beat me at everything, thus giving him a strange sense of masculine dominance. I’ve noticed that his tone with me is now one of pity mixed with pride; as long as the video game is on, there’s just a slight condescension in his voice, and to be honest, it’s kind of funny.
I’m happy that he’s got something he does better than me. It creates a bond because I can ask him to teach me, or show me how to do something in a game, and he’s more than happy to do it. In fact, it excites him to show me the ropes, and I love his willingness to teach me.
And that brings me right back to the bigger message for this week: being “right” all the time isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
You miss a lot of life’s blessings that way, and I know for me personally, I don’t want to miss any of those.
They’re too precious.
I usually think up the prayer requests that I submit to y’all, but this week I decided to ask Rachel, Ella and Jon what they would like people to pray for them.
So, with that said, here’s how you can pray for us this week:
For Jason—consistency in side effects; energy and alertness as I work on projects; continued health and improvement; upcoming appointments with nutritionist and a sleep doctor.
For Rachel—thank you for praying for our sleeping issues—we’ve been able to work out a solution that’s better, and we’re seeing improvement in our rest.
For Ella—please pray for final exams and studying for those; also for closure from a toxic friendship that’s ended; and ask for help with making new, healthy friends.
For Jon—poetry test and math project.
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I want to close this issue of the newsletter with thanks to everyone who reaches out to let me know that our family is on your mind and in your prayers. It makes a difference to know people are behind you, lifting you up through the difficult times.
We’re still having to deal with all of the regular stuff that comes with life and parenting; even though I occasionally check out and pretend like cancer is the only battle we’re facing, our reality is full of challenges and struggles, just like your life. We all are pushing to live the best lives we can, and we all could use the help and strength that comes from others cheering us on.
I hope, wherever you are, that you have that blessing in your life. I hope you have a network of friends and neighbors who are willing to speak goodness into your life, or offer you a helpful word at just the right time.
If you feel like you don’t, the good news is you can create that kind of community yourself. Be the first one to reach out; be the first one to pray; be the first one to lend a helping hand to those in need, and watch how even such small acts create a massive wave of change.
Thank you for being part of my community. There are over 300 of you who’ve signed up for the email, and while I don’t know each of you personally, I do know that I am indebted to you for your care and kindness in prayer and in action.
I hope you have a great week, and as always, thanks for reading!
Best,
Jason
I got the scar playing ping pong in the Mormon Student Center at the University of Georgia, but that’s a story for another time.