I recently had a meeting with some people I had not talked to in about two and a half years. For context, I was working closely with this group at the time of my cancer diagnosis and the first few months into the journey. That work ended and we simply didn’t connect for a while.

Naturally, one of the first points of discussion was what had been going on with my health. I summarized that it is a current, ongoing situation that is being dealt with by using multiple weapons in our arsenal.

They said that for some reason, they had thought this was mostly behind me. That was not the first time I’d heard that. Some people thought the bladder removal surgery was the endgame for the cancer. Others who saw me posting coaching videos and promoting my business believed I was past the disease and had moved on.

This got me thinking about the way we portray ourselves to the world. It’s no secret that social media has permanently changed that game. It seems like people either share an image of how great everything is or do the opposite and only post about everything that can and does go wrong.

Personally, I don’t want to share from a negative place. It’s no secret that I do my best to maintain a positive attitude regardless of circumstances. At the same time, I don’t want to do that to the point of being misleading about the truth.

I struggle to find the middle ground: the place where I can give enough information that doesn’t cry out that the end is near and at the same time does not portray a place of victory and safety. The place that is the current reality of the situation.

I’ve previously discussed the reasons for sharing my story. One was to lay it all out there so I would need to show integrity by fighting. Essentially, I said I would do it, so I’m doing it.

Another reason for being open has developed into a place of service. I was told my writing helps people. I’ve adopted that as an honor and now consider it a responsibility.

There is another reason that I have not mentioned. It goes back to the social media angle. We’ve all seen the post where a person is paying tribute to someone we knew that had passed on at too young of an age. Our natural curiosity wants to know what happened, but our manners (mostly) keep us from asking. That doesn’t stop us from hunting for information.

If my time were to come too soon, I don’t want people to go through that. I don’t want my family fielding “what happened” questions. My intention is that the answer is known and does not need to be discussed further.

Early on, there was a lot of information that this was bad. Fortunately, I was able to put blinders on and only focus on what was directly in front of me.

That was especially evident when we went for a second opinion at MD Anderson. My wife and I sat and listened to a doctor tell us, at two months in, our situation was dire and incurable. The only options we had were trying to buy time and shift to comfort as it ran out. After that gut punch, I asked about the median life expectancy. Before the doctor could answer I declared that I’d rather not know.

Nearly two and a half years later, time and an ever-adapting mindset have allowed me to revisit that situation. Given all the data and information that doctor had at the time, I asked what the answer might have been.

5 to 11 months.

I’m publishing this on February 10, 2026 for a reason. It is the three-year mark of receiving the diagnosis. And with what I know now, it has been three years of David holding off Goliath.

It’s an ongoing conflict and we’re fortunate to still be in the middle of it. As long as we’re in the game, it’s not over.

The reality is that the cancer I’m dealing with is rare, aggressive, and doesn’t respond well to most of the usual treatments. That makes it harder to fight and more unpredictable. We have been extremely lucky to do as well as we have. We’re on a fifth different regimen with the current one being a Phase 1 clinical trial. In a perfect world, treatment works, you go into remission and then you stop. Obviously, ongoing tactics and changing them up are not ideal.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I just don’t want to portray an unrealistic image of success. What I truly want is to reach people in similar situations and let them know that if they feel this conflict, they are not alone. Holding the middle means you want to live normally while carrying this weight of uncertainty. You don’t want to complain, and you don’t want to make people falsely believe that everything is fine.

I am proud of everything we have accomplished so far. The realization that none of this is guaranteed has changed me. I hope for the better. No one can know how much time is left, but I know I intend to live intentionally and will do everything I can to continue serving.

Also, I have gratitude that goes beyond words, but I’m going to try anyway.