Eighteen

This is a picture of me some 18 years ago, on the day I took my youngest home for the first time.  Within a few short weeks, I was back in a doctor’s office talking about lumps, biopsies, and pathologies.  Pregnancy had left a little gift for me, and a very unwelcome one it was.

There is something especially terrifying about going through a diagnosis with a newborn in your arms and another child at preschool.  The urge to protect our children is strongest when post-partum hormones are coursing through our veins.  As a consequence, I felt my children’s welfare was the primary reason my health was important.

Due to the peculiarities of my condition, and the litigative nature of American medicine, my infant had morphed into a rather obnoxious toddler by the time that the wonderful word ‘benign’ was uttered by my doctors.  In the midst of those stressful twenty-one months, I engaged in a job hunt. My personal circumstances restricted my job opportunities:  I could not give ‘my all’ to any new position. I was already giving too much elsewhere.

Within a few weeks of letting my network know I was looking for a job, I took a position with Global Risk Consultants, my current employer.  I was very fortunate to find an employer who understood that I had something of value to offer, limited though it was.  I am convinced the primary reason that I am still in the engineering profession is the flexible working arrangements offered to me by GRC.

During that period – when I was in doubt of my continuing existence – and since that period, my intent was to simply get on with life.  In my professional life, I consulted on thousands of construction projects, obtained my PE license, and worked with some fantastic clients and colleagues.  (If you are a LinkedIn contact, you are definitely among that number).  In my personal life, I knitted a ridiculous number of hats, learned tai chi, ran a 5k (a surprisingly difficult thing for me), written a couple of books, and, most importantly, watched my children grow into adulthood.

Now with my youngest reaching his majority, my diagnostic journey seems like ancient history.  Nonetheless, I remember it as a time fraught with stress and worry.  If you are in a similar period of uncertainty, I hope that you do not put your life on hold but continue to live the life you want.  I hope you pursue whatever gives your life meaning, whether it be mundane or magical.  If what you do pleases you, that’s good enough.