Start of the Adventure

September 4, 2026

There are certain dates in history that most of us will never forget.

Where we were when JFK was assassinated.
Where we were when O.J. Simpson was on that infamous slow-speed Bronco chase.
Where we were when we watched the towers fall on 9/11.

September 4, 2026, became one of those days for us.

I was just getting up and getting ready for work when David's phone rang. It was the oncologist calling to tell him the biopsy had come back positive for cancer cells.

Wow.

Talk about a one-two punch.

The Next Step

That Tuesday, we finally met with the oncologist.

The appointment was at the end of the day, and David's family had some good advice. His mom had passed away from a form of cancer years earlier, and his sisters suggested we bring someone with us.

The idea was simple: I could focus on listening to the doctor and supporting David while someone else took notes.

That's where my dad came in. It must be nice being retired and having the flexibility to drive an hour just to sit in on someone else's doctor's appointment.

But honestly, we were incredibly grateful he did.

We both appreciated having him there. We appreciated having another set of ears, another person taking notes, and another person sitting beside us while we tried to absorb everything we were about to hear.

That was the appointment where we learned the word lymphoma.

More testing was needed. A biopsy and PET/CT would give us more information about exactly what we were dealing with.

At that point, our response was basically:

Wow.

Okay..

We got this.

We can deal with this.

The rest of that week seemed to move in slow motion as we both processed the news and prepared for whatever came next.

If I can offer 1 piece of advice during the first few days of a cancer diagnosis is to ask for help. Don't keep this to yourself. Share with someone you trust. They can be your sounding board, they can be a shoulder to cry on, they can be the ears that takes notes at appointments while you sit and focus on what is being said.

For those who aren't familiar with the backstory, let's go back about three to four years.

David started complaining about blood in his stool, fatigue, bloating, and just an overall feeling that something wasn't right with his stomach. His primary care provider referred him to a gastroenterologist, who ran him through what felt like the entire gamut of testing.

During that time, David's hemoglobin kept dropping—to levels between 7 and 9. For reference, a typical hemoglobin level for a man is around 13–17. His was dangerously low.

He started receiving blood transfusions every couple of weeks just to help keep his levels up.

And still, the doctors couldn't figure out what was causing it.

Eventually, things improved. David was able to get back to living a relatively normal life, and for about three years, we carried on.

Then the symptoms started coming back.

We went back to the gastroenterologist, and once again, the testing began.

This time, they found something different: an enlarged spleen and swollen lymph nodes in his abdomen. The doctor wanted to biopsy the area to see if whatever was happening there could be connected to his symptoms.

It wasn't just connected.

It was the key to everything.

The biopsy found cancer cells in David's abdominal lymph nodes.

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