Back when I was in high school, we had a fish tank. It was one of those ten-gallon glass tanks with filtration and temperature control. They were primarily my sister’s, but when she went away to college, I became responsible for their care.

It’s been so long that other than feeding them, I don’t even remember what that care entailed. Cleaning the tank must have been part of it.  I remember after cleaning it one time, some equipment stopped working. Something like a water pump or filtration system seemed to be broken.

I fast forwarded the scenario in my head. Without the pump, the water would become toxic, causing the fish to die. I felt I had no choice. And I flushed all the fish down the toilet.

I don’t remember why replacing the part was not deemed an option. I don’t remember if I collaborated with my parents or my sister in making this decision. What I do remember is that when the pump, or whatever seemed broken, was primed with water, it resumed operating in its intended way.

I had made an assumption, quickly acted on it, and it killed the fish.

When I realized that I had needlessly passed a death sentence to half a dozen innocent fish all those years ago, I felt horrible. I’d like to say it taught me a valuable lesson. One that forced me to look at all possibilities before rushing to make a decision. It didn’t.  There have been several times over the ensuing years where I jumped to conclusions that were not entirely justified. 

Fast forward to present day, and I still have the habit of taking things and playing them out to what I believe are obvious conclusions. This is awfully concerning as I’m now in treatment for cancer with new data and information coming in all the time. When information comes in trending poorly, like increased tumor markers in my blood work, the first question that seems to pop into my head tends to be: Is this the beginning of the end?

Over the last three years I’ve been very conscious of how I portray my attitude. I strive to bleed positivity and project a winning attitude. I’m careful with the words I write and say out loud. I have the gift of a first-class filter when it comes to speaking, meaning the rare ability to NOT say whatever pops into my head.

That filter, however, does not apply to my thoughts. Like most, I don’t always have control over where my mind wanders off to. I’m human and my brain tends to send thoughts with no regard to what is right or wrong, positive or negative, and even true or false.

When that question about the beginning of the end comes up, the images are brutal. They flash between final days in a hospital bed, life going on without me, funerals, memorials and every other potential reality I’m just not ready for. Add those to the long list of things I want to accomplish in life while wondering how many, if any, I will achieve. There is the feeling that time could be extremely limited. Put all those together and you have a textbook recipe for anxiety and being overwhelmed.

This is where the making assumptions is most dangerous. If my mind puts the blinders on and decides I’m on a collision course with my final destination, how do I fight that? Trying to not think that way simply doesn’t work. I would assume that this is the kind of hopelessness people feel before they take matters into their own hands to prematurely end both current and potential suffering.

For the most part, at least to this point, reversing trends has been my temporary cure. When numbers started trending in the wrong direction, treatments were modified or changed and the numbers started coming back down. Nevertheless, I’d be lying if I said that I believe I can count on that to continue happening.

In many cases, people that succumb to cancer do so after all options have been exhausted and stop working. On top of that, cancer is an asshole that keeps finding ways to adapt and resist treatments that had previously worked. I’ve mentioned before that I got picked by a pretty big asshole of a cancer. It has lived up to the reputation I just mentioned about adapting and resisting.

It’s one thing for your body to betray you. Having your thoughts do it is a different level. You are supposed to be in control of those while some biology is out of your hands. It is a hard thing when your mind turns on you. I’d guess we’ve all experienced this at one time or another.  But I know that I’ve seen enough examples of different outcomes that I don’t have to follow my mind down “Assumption Avenue” every time it takes off. After all, no outcome is certain until it happens, right? Remembering that when pain takes center stage or when tumor markers shoot for new high scores is not easy, but it is the hope I hold on to.

The best thing I have found that I can do is make it a point to look forward. I put in work for the future – even if it’s uncertain. I do things to live life – because if I forget to do that, what’s the point? So far this year I’ve started writing a book, declared my intention to speak publicly and, along with my wife, started a line of motivational shirts. The shirts are very meaningful to me. I make it a point to wear them because they serve as reminders when I look in the mirror. So far, we’ve designed:

• Don’t Quit
• Keep Going
• Let’s Go

Sometimes I need those messages coming at me from the outside. The reminders help me remember that I have reasons to stay.

With everything I’m fighting, it seems trivial and unnecessary to be in a battle with my own mind, but here we are. I know the smart thing to do is to remind myself that nothing is inevitable. As the legendary Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over ‘till it’s over.”

I just keep trying to get up each day and do the things that matter like working on our business with my wife, appreciating the little things like watching our dog play, enjoying a (small) glass of wine or taking off to the beach. These are the things that I will never give up without a fight.

And most of all, no matter where the data points, I must keep in the front of my mind that it can never be time to “flush the fish.”