I love sport and always have, and as I sat awake this morning, I thought about what type of game I am part of at the moment. Is it a team game, an individual sport, or a doubles match-up? It is all three. If you can bear the analogy for a few minutes, read on. If not, I fully understand, but don’t judge me too harshly for it.
The game, of course, is the fight against and with the disease. Unlike regular sports, it’s a pro up against an amateur novice who comes in without a coach. It’s a game thrown at you, and you have to learn the rules on the fly—no one can prepare you for it. It’s a long-term game that you hope plays out over time, yet it moves at a pace that can be breathtakingly fast.
Team sport – I am very blessed, truly, and I am grateful for it. I have an amazing family around me, all who I genuinely think are batting for me. I have awesome friends and a great community, and they are really supportive in a very real way. My partner in life is the best, truly. There is a team, far broader, which is supporting the efforts, and I couldn’t possibly be happier with mine.
I am not sure they are so happy to be part of this team, given that the game sucks, but many have stepped forward and are helping. It is an informal team with some regulars and some who are part of the squad or who come in and out, but there are roles.
I love my team, and what is special about it is that the smallest things really count. Yesterday, someone stopped their car, came over to me, and gave me a really genuinely warm hello and a great idea. It was so appreciated. I can count so many of these moments, it’s impossible to tally them all. So my huge thanks to the team.
A doubles game – at the center of my team stand two people: my wife and I. Our objectives, when I look at it, are absolutely aligned but not quite the same in one respect. She wants to look after me, and I want to look after her. We are aligned in two core respects: we want to look after the kids and protect them, and we love each other and wish neither of us had to be right here right now. Our kids are not really kids, and they are just as much part of the team, but I truly want them to focus, wherever possible, on their lives. I know in reality it is hard, but it must be that way.
We are both going to have to step up and, like a great doubles team, play to each other’s strengths and work together to take on the opponent. We’ll have good games and bad ones but we will hopefully beat the odds.
Despite all of the above, it is also an individual sport, to some extent for each player but in many ways especially for the patient, and at some level it always will be. From time to time, despite the presence of the team, it can feel lonely and like an individual sport as you battle your demons, face your fears, and, at least for now while I can, lead the momentum, pace, energy, mood, and vitality of the team around you.
Each of the team members wants what’s best for you but also doesn’t really want to know the true nature of the sport, and it is not something you want to burden them with. Truth be known, I, as the individual, don’t really want to know the true nature of the sport either, and that is one of the tactics.
All three of these setups are happening in parallel and are all learning and evolving, and it is very, very strange to be at the center of it—quite out of this world and hard to describe. In some ways, it is too bizarre to be at the center of this sport.
I truly wish the game was not being played, but it is, and I am immensely grateful for the team around me and thank them. I am especially grateful to my doubles partner and our kids support. I am also steeling myself for the challenge of the individual sport.
This game is complex, but like all sports, it is attitude that wins it. Strategy, planning, teamwork, skill, and a host of things matter, but attitude is the core. As Churchill said: “Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.” My attitude is a positive one—I am here, we are all here, for a reason, and although I don’t want to be here, I have to face the challenge and, most importantly, have meaningful, happy, and sweet moments and memories along the way to ultimately make the journey worthwhile for all.
