Last week my son, Joel, posted on Facebook about it being the seventh anniversary of his successful bladder cancer surgery. In his post he reminisced about that profound event and its subsequent impact on all our lives. I actually commented on his post that there are events we all encounter in our lives that, when viewed through the mirror of time, we realize were monumental life changers. This was one of mine. I thank God for blessing us both.
On January 21, 2011 in my Weekend Inspiration, I shared my observations of those harrowing yet somehow fulfilling days and how they changed the entire direction of my life. Seeing my son’s post last Friday reminded me of my own composition and brought me back to that time replete with all of the feelings about family, fear, fortitude and faith. This week I once again share that story with you:
I’m sure you have heard the term “arrogance of power” used before. Most often it is applied to political leaders, but it certainly can apply to a much broader audience. I learned this week that, in so many unrealized ways, the term defined me.
For over thirty years I have been a manager, a leader, a mover and a shaker. I have attained financial success and become fairly renown as a result of my skills. I didn’t make it on luck. I made luck happen. I’ve invested all of my fiber and being into becoming the best at what I do. I’ve helped build the largest and most successful real estate company in our region. I am known locally, statewide and even nationally as an authority in my field. Without a doubt, in my mind, most of the importance in my life I’ve attained through my business prowess. My corporate or business self has pretty much defined who I was. And, as that success and stature has grown over the years so has my ego. Interestingly, my image of myself was never as being one who is a self-centered or egotistical person. At least that’s what I’d convinced myself.
Recently a grand opportunity to test all of my skills arose when our company became a party in the acquisition of another major real estate company in our marketplace. In mid-December we began those negotiations. This culminated in a general agreement being finalized on December 30th. Over the ensuing several weeks I would be involved in all of the planning details for the grand announcement and the subsequent assimilation of the acquired company’s agents and staff into our organization. There was a very short timeline and so much to do.
As it has been throughout my career, I couldn’t and didn’t handle all of the details by myself. My competent and dedicated staff carried most of that burden assisted by the wonderful management teams from both our company and the one we were acquiring. My role was more akin to a conductor of an orchestra. That’s my element. I had to know the overall score. I had the primary responsibility for defining and understanding each of the player’s parts. I had to listen to their various tunes and meld them into one cohesive melody. If any problem areas developed, it was my responsibility to hear them and to stop the ongoing music until the issue was resolved. Finally, I had to lead the orchestra through the final performance, controlling and directing their tempo and delivery. This was my element – vision, planning, deciding, execution and, most important, control. I fancied myself as a master of control.
The short period afforded between the agreement and the public announcement made for long hours and stress, but this only fed my ego. At the inception, the number of details that needed to be attended to seemed insurmountable, however as that date drew closer and closer, I became confident we were going to pull it off.
On the Friday evening before the following Tuesday morning’s announcement event, I was driving home exhausted, but, to use another metaphor, like the engine powering a long freight train, I was convinced that all of my wheels were secure and turning in the right direction and I was smug in that familiar feeling that I had everything under control. Little did I know as I walked into my home that those powerful engine wheels that had guided me so expertly throughout my life were about to come loose.
As entered the door and my wife’s eyes met mine, I immediately knew something was wrong. My first thought was that this was all about the bottle that I had accidently knocked off a shelf when I came home to grab a quick bite at lunchtime and that I had left broken on the floor of our pantry with no note of explanation as to “who” or “why.” I had been just too busy to clean it up. Surely she would understand. I immediately mounted my defense: “Honey, I’m sorry about not cleaning up the mess,” I muttered apologetically. Strangely, her response was neither normal nor expected. As she turned to me I immediately notice that her eyes, moist with the residue of tears, had the look of the proverbial “deer in the headlight.” Her voice cracking, she replied, “That’s not it. They found cancer in Joel.”
Joel is my youngest son. He’s 29 years old. He is the father of my 10 month old grandson. We knew he had been experiencing some urological issues earlier in the week. He had consulted with my father-in-law, a retired physician, and subsequently with my brother, Frank, a urologist. We knew all this. But everything up to this point indicated that this was nothing to worry about. It was just an infection. IT WAS NOT CANCER!!
Suddenly, I felt those sturdy, dependable wheels of my engine begin to dislodge.
That night, Joel, his wife, Melanie, my grandson, Grayson and my oldest son, Justin came over to the house. We talked a little about the “elephant in the room,” but very little. We just wanted to be together. Much as I tried, I couldn’t find my self-assured, in-control persona anywhere. Those wheels were wobbling tenuously.
Later, my brother, Frank, and his wife, Miki, stopped by. Frank assured us that he was confident that he could remove all of the tumor completely and that Joel would be cured. He was so confident. I’m sure that his words provided comfort for the others, but not for me. My wheels were now dropping off one by one.
That night, though exhausted from work, and emotionally drained, I couldn’t sleep. I found myself in a completely foreign world – a world where I had no control, no power, no solution, no ability and no confidence. I was involved in the most significant situation of my entire life and I felt totally useless. My wheels were now gone.
Joel’s surgery was scheduled for Wednesday. The announcement of the company acquisition was Tuesday morning. I was operating on a business level on Monday and Tuesday, but it was totally by autopilot. There was no ego-tripping. I was just going through the motions. Everything went off as planned, but not because of me. My partners, staff, and agents were now powering that train. I was just along for the ride. Cargo. My wheels were just a memory.
On Wednesday, Stephanie and I got to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. Joel and Melanie arrived shortly after. He got dressed in his garb. We talked. The Chaplin came in and we prayed. I prayed. It was a prayer of one who feels helpless – not hopeless, but helpless. Justin arrived with Melanie’s mother, Martha.
Finally, around 10:00 a.m., Joel was rolled out to surgery. The wheels of his gurney were functioning properly. Mine where long forgotten.
Throughout the next two hours, Frank sent us periodic reports from the operating room. Each time he assured us that the surgery was going well. We felt more confident with every communication.
We also felt a palpable warmth and peace envelope us. It undoubtedly was the hand of God summoned by the scores of friends and family who were holding all of us up in their thoughts and prayers.
I slowly began to feel that there were once again wheels back and turning in my life. They just weren’t my wheels anymore.
The surgery was successful. My brother got all of that evil cancer out of my son. His thoroughness initially discovered the tumor and his skillful hand exorcised it. He saved my son! Thank God and my mother in heaven for guiding his hands! Thank God for all who held us up in prayer! Thank God for everything! Throughout this ordeal and throughout all of our lives, His wheels are always securely in place and are turning smoothly.
And, lastly, I thank God for humbling me!
“The reward of humility and fear of the Lord is riches, honor and life.” – Proverbs 22:4
Have an awe-full weekend!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué