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Round One. Completed and won.

Round Two. Knocked down - left battered and bruised.

Round Three. Here we go as the bell just rang…

If there is any validity to the hopeful idiom - “Third time’s the charm” - I’m about to find out.

For about the last 3 ½ years, I have been engaged in a fight for my life (literally). On most days, I’m not sure if I’m effectively landing any punches or if I’m about ready to be knocked out. Either way, I certainly feel the impact of being in the ring now for quite some time. Some days, I really feel as if I have gone a few rounds - complete with being on the receiving end of numerous haymakers having been delivered by Mike Tyson himself.

However, being the glutton for punishment I can frequently be, I keep getting back up to engage in more back-and-forth against my life’s more than formidable opponent.

One day in mid-May 2022, I was just a normal (or maybe I should say “regular”) person with many of the same kinds of problems and struggles as so many of my fellow humans. The next day, I was a “regular” person with a new wrinkle added to my daily strife. Cancer. Pancreatic cancer to be more specific.

Then the bell rang to commence the fight.

Worn out cliches such as “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” and “No pain, no gain” have taken on new meaning for me over these past few years.

Round one of chemo started - with a “break” halfway in to allow for Whipple surgery - before drawing to a successful close in January 2023. In fact, I was able to ring the bell myself to signify my temporary victory over the dreaded disease. After about 1 ½ years of suffering through “scanxiety” every 3 months, I found out the cancer had found its way through my defenses and wanted another “piece of me” - having spread to my lungs and becoming defined as terminal.

Round 2 of chemo commenced and lasted for about 3 months. The cancer was able to avoid the best punches I could muster and won the round, leaving me feeling like I had just been in a promotional fight with a bear.

In spite of being able to catch my breath for a few months, and feeling the best I had in quite some time, I still couldn’t help but think my time here on Earth was drawing to a close. It was time for another waiting game to begin as my oncologist (trainer/manager) helped me navigate the wonderful world of clinical trials.

About four months later, the call I had been hoping for came.

In late May 2025, I started a clinical trial in Nashville, Tennessee. After receiving targeted therapy for six successful months, a CT scan showed that some of my larger lung masses had grown enough to be considered “progressive disease.” Just as I was beginning to get accustomed to and looking forward to the frequent trips to my new “home away from home”, the rug was pulled out from under me again. No more being a guinea pig for me…at least for now.

Recently, during an appointment with my oncologist (who I consider to be the best doctor I have ever had for anything) - it was agreed that I am to begin Round Three of chemo. The goal of this round will hopefully/realistically end in a draw. The hope is that it will once again stabilize cancer growth and spread so that I can enter the ring with another clinical trial in the near future.

Suffice it to say that these last 3 ½ years have more than closely resembled a near constant roller- coaster ride of emotions and physical ups-and-downs. I remain eternally grateful for all those family members and friends along the way that have helped smooth out the peaks and valleys of my ride. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have so many in my life willing to offer their support and assistance. It is a result of that help that I have decided that the fight must go on.

Nearly each day, I give “thought time” to an infamous speech delivered by Winston Churchill in late October, 1941. With World War II raging and his nation’s back against the wall, the UK Prime Minister reminded his fellow countrymen to “Never give in, never give in, never, never, never…Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”

That said, I do still believe that I’ll know when it is time for me to bow out gracefully and “retire from the ring.” When that time inevitably comes, it won’t mean that I gave up against my life’s toughest opponent. I’ll be able to rest easy knowing I gave it my best shot. It will just be time for me to sit on the stool in my corner and catch my breath - surrounded by all those that have encouraged me and helped me get back up each and every time I’ve been knocked down along the way.

Having cancer has put me on hyper-alert in terms of recognizing the struggles of others and becoming a more sympathetic person. I’m thankful for that. It has also made me more aware of the delicacy of life. In the words of one of my favorite authors (Kate Bowler) - “Life is as fragile as a soap bubble.”

At the end of a movie (Stranger Than Fiction) I recently watched, I was particularly moved by a statement the narrator made following the main character’s brush with death. As the film’s protagonist lay in his hospital bed, his girlfriend fed him a Bavarian sugar cookie.

“Sometimes when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies, and fortunately, when there aren’t any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or a subtle encouragement or loving embrace or offer of comfort…We must remember that all these things, the nuances, the subtleties, the anomalies, which we assume only accessorize our days, are in fact here for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives.”

With that bit of wisdom in mind, it’s time for me to lace my gloves back up and land a few more left hooks on cancer’s chin. I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me. There are too many simple, tangible moments left in life to appreciate and enjoy - like never before.

Bring on Round Three…