Nobody's Guaranteed their "Someday"

Clocks only really tell you how much time has gone past. They don't create time. Moments in the future may not happen. "Someday" may never come.

I lost a friend and colleague yesterday. He had been diagnosed with prostate cancer a short while before I had. Another colleague recommended I contact him since we were very close in age and he was trying a newer, alternative (possibly experimental) treatment. I remember being less afraid and more mad when I was first diagnosed (which prompted my very first blog post ever). I remember the first phone call I made to him - he was so gracious, and took it upon himself to be my cheerleader. Anyone who knew him would not be surprised at all by this; this was Michael. You always felt better after speaking with him - he made it about you, not him.

His own PSA levels (the blood work indicator that prostate cancer may be an unwelcome tenant in your body) were appallingly, ridiculously high. When he told me what his levels were, I was so scared for him that I went to my go-to, which is humor. "Is that a record? Will we see you in Guinness?" He laughed, and said that he had asked his doctor the same thing, but even though the doctor had said it wasn't the highest recorded, he personally had not seen them that elevated. Neither had my doctors, when I shared his numbers, and the look on their faces should have prepared me better then for hearing of the loss today. But it didn't - one of the few things I am certain Michael and I shared, in addition to working for the same company and an overwhelming desire to help others, was optimism. My entire thought process for Michael from that point forward was that I was going to be able to tell others that I knew a guy who had scary-high PSA levels, but that he BEAT it - he's doing fine. Michael was going to be my underdog story - in case anyone with higher-than-my PSA levels asked me for support (because that's what happens - you unknowingly join a fairly large support group), I was going to be able to say, "There's this guy I know, Michael, who...".

He was supposed to beat this. Guys like Michael aren't supposed to leave this early. so much to do; so many lives still to touch. But sometimes the underdog doesn't win. Sometimes the cancer does. Sometimes all the optimism, positive thinking, prayers, etc. aren't enough.

The clock stopped for Michael yesterday. My heart goes out to his family. We've all got a clock. Make sure you're not wasting your clock's time. Make sure you're saying the things that need to be said. Tell the people you love that you love them. Hug someone. Stop putting that trip off. Don't keep waiting for "someday". And if you're male and over the age of 50 (40-45 if this runs in your family) - schedule yourself for a physical and make sure they test for this. I'd like to think Michael would agree with this. Peace.