Someone recently called me a “branding machine” as a compliment based upon my ability to turn a phrase or birth a bumper sticker on a moment’s notice. But, I didn’t take this praise well. I don’t want to be a “machine.” I’ve spent my life bowing to the god of efficiency and devising strategies to pack just a little bit more into my overstuffed calendar (ask my EA Tiana). As I recited in yesterday’s post, even my radiation/book launch mash-up earlier this year required a machine-like efficiency to make sure the scheduling Jenga didn’t fall down. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished during this biggest test of my life, but I’m ready for my daily nap.
I think those around me will tell you that I’ve softened a bit. Less prone to anger. More philosophical. My adolescent sense of humor hasn’t left this middlescent. I’ve become a tiny bit more patient (maybe imperceptible to others, but I notice it). I am loving and doting on Oren as well as my extended family and friends. I celebrate with those I haven’t seen in awhile, albeit at an MEA campus, but I know we’ll throw a great high school reunion, 64th birthday party, or Airbnb employee reunion at one of our establishments given our talented team. Our shaman Saul says life is all about love, faith, and intention and I’ve invested in all three these past couple of years.
But, the reality is I’ve spent my life as an accomplishment junkie. My self-worth came from my resume or my trophies on the shelf. And, better yet, my sense of success came from you noticing those trophies. I’ll admit that I’ve also been an admiration addict. Maybe this blog post series this week is just another form of me desiring to be admired. But, I don’t think so, based upon how I let my freak flag fly in my daily blog, I’m less focused on being admired and more focused on just being seen for who I am.
The good news is that I learned forty years ago that I am a 3 with a 4 wing on the Enneagram personality assessment which means I care a lot about success and performance, but I also like to do it in my individual, sometimes quirky way. It’s particularly important for 3’s to focus on inner work because they tend to be outer-focused so MEA is perfect for me to stretch my boundaries. I’ve spent decades laughing at my performative tendencies and, on a soulful level, sometimes see myself as a two-bit actor in “The Life of Chip.” The real Chip is a little more introverted, intuitive, and weird.
I ended my hormone depletion therapy a few weeks ago and, while my testosterone level is still only half of what its normal level, my energy is coming back and I feel less needy for the energy jolt of a piece of dark chocolate (please add some sea salt and caramel to that). I still have a small amount of cancer in my system after all these procedures, so now we watch whether it grows (based upon doing monthly blood tests for the rest of my life) and, if it does, we will do concentrated radiation in those parts of my body that need to be zapped. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night with nightmares of the sound of mosquito zappers popping off inside my body.
My UCSF medical oncologist told me earlier this fall that I had a 22% chance of living another 10 years, without consideration of circumstances beyond my cancer. That freaked me out until he rushedly called me back the next day saying that new data suggested I had an 80% chance of lasting another decade. Needless to say, this didn’t give me confidence in my UCSF team so I will be spending four days next month at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston as I explore moving my cancer treatment program to them. The collateral benefit is that my sons, Eli and Ethan, are in Houston so I’ll get to spend the day with Eli celebrating his advent into teenhood when he has his birthday on Dec 12.
Tomorrow, I’ll finish up this series with my four key lessons from being in Cancer School.
-Chip