Perspective. The world looks so different now in ways that I could never have imagined. As a husband, father, athlete, coach, medical device professional, and writer, I thought I had leaned into incredible feats of adversity philosophically and in my own life. I now have to laugh at how little I thought I knew – and how real, personal, and harrowing this journey has been (and will be). At the same time, I’ve seen a faith and strength modeled by my seven-year-old son that has amazed, inspired, and changed me.
To that end, an update. William did amazing with his surgery. The large tumor at the back of his brain was removed. A biopsy will determine what’s next with the other small tumors, but we remain hopeful of the prognosis. Either way, this is just the start of a long journey ahead, but we seem to be over the first huge mountain.
I write on martial arts and philosophy, and I’ve always admired the Bushido spirit of the Samurai and virtues that include justice, courage, compassion, respect, integrity, honor, and loyalty. I’ve never seen such a Bushido spirit exemplified – and by a seven-year-old boy. He has a faith, hope, and love that can move mountains – and has.
Before surgery, his Mom and I prayed with him. I also let him know there was an army of people praying for him and played him the song “Voices that Care” which is a song that I dedicated to my cousin Nicky years ago (another incredible cancer survivor). Though this is not Desert Storm (to the soldiers that this song was originally addressed), William is a warrior fighting for his life inspiring us all back home. Some lyrics that spoke to me:
“Just can’t let you feel alone, when there’s so much love at home. We’re sending out to you… The courage that you’ve known, the bravery you’ve shown, clearly lights the way… We’re all praying you remain strong” … You are the light… Stand tall, stand proud, voices that care are crying out loud… When you close your eyes tonight, feel in your heart how our love burns bright”.
I sang these words as best I could (amongst tears and getting choke up) and assured him there are so many voices that care that are thinking and praying for him. He sat there taking all this in coloring a heart (which he later split into 6 pieces for each member of our family).
I told him when gets scared for the battle ahead to think about “just another hockey game on Saturday with Dad” (I have the privilege of coaching this brave warrior) – and after this battle “we’ll get our Starbucks refresher as always” (hockey players are very superstitious).
As we made the walk down to the OR, he held his Iron Heart. I told him that if he gets scared or nervous, just squeeze and know that God, his family, and thousands of people around the world are with him. In surgery holding, I played one of our “pre-game” songs “The Boss” by James Brown. He smiled, laughed and held on to his Iron Heart. “You got this buddy”, his Mom and I said, and he was wheeled off.
After the surgery, he was still asleep and one of the OR nurses mentioned that William was adamant that two items do not get lost – his “battle mask” and his Iron Heart.
I am forever changed by this young man.
William. My son. My hero. My Iron Heart