We Fight On

Cancer has once again reared its Halloweenish head. But in a cruel twist of fate befitting the dumpster fire that is 2020, this time it's for me, Aaron.

I have lymphoma.

Total blindside: I actually feel fine.

The doctor thinks that it is a type of Large B-Cell Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. We caught it early, it's low stage (probably stage 2A), and it's most likely an aggressive type of cancer that responds very well to chemotherapy. So the prognosis is actually positive, all things considered.

More tests coming, and we will know the details and treatment plan within the next week or so.

The irony isn't lost on me, that on Tuesday 10/27 we went to one cancer center for Liz's 135th chemotherapy infusion (the kind she has every 3 weeks...forever), then we hurried to a different cancer center to meet with "my" oncologist for the first time. On the same day.

My oncologist. Surreal.

To answer some questions you haven't yet asked:

• Yes, we're sure.
• No, it's not genetic. Sometimes bad stuff just happens. And it's terrible. Like now.
• Yes, we told the kids, and this type of chaos is unfortunately not new to them. Their resiliency is shining through already.
• Yes, it is curable, and that's even more ironic. Liz will always have to think about treatments, scans, bloodwork, the next doctor's visit, and the next results. I might be able to ring the bell and be "done" with treatment. Doesn't seem fair.
• Yes, we are ok financially for now. We've thankfully had a good year, and the work continues. Liz and I own a recruiting firm (murdochmason.com), and I also started a new business with a trusted partner (vitalizetalent.com). We will be ok.
• No, we don't need anything right now. Thank you! Please be patient with us as we come up with a list of what will be helpful as treatments progress.

Special requests:

• Don't let the fear of not knowing what to say keep you away. Your love and concern will give us strength.
• If you don't know what to say or do, here are some ideas in an old blog post: How Not to Say the Wrong Thing.
• Please pray for us, and especially pray for our boys. If prayer isn't your thing, talk with someone who needs a human conversation or do an act of kindness for someone.

Are you watching the NBC show This Is Us? One scene struck us during the season opener while we  pretended like we weren't crying.

Beth explained to her husband, Randall, what she learned early in life. "It's the tragedies that define our lives. They are the fenceposts on which the rest of our lives hang. I always think about that, like, our lives are just hanging there, between these really sad fenceposts. Baby, you were born out of tragedy. Multiple tragedies. All that loss, all that sadness...and look what you hung on your fenceposts. Look what you have right in front of you, right here in this room. I mean, look what you did with all of that. Do you see it?"

Randall looked at their children and thoughtfully replied, "I see it." Beth finished with this:

"This pain is not forever. This moment in time is not forever.
Nothing is forever...except us. We fight on."

Liz and I have planted plenty of sad fenceposts. But as we look at our boys and our blessings, we realize that we have hung many happy and amazing things between the standards of sadness. We have purpose and power to fight this, and so we will.

We fight on.