A little over a year ago, I received a grim cancer diagnosis from Dr H.
This particular surgeon looked far too frail and unsteady to be in a kitchen slicing tomatoes, let alone performing an intricate surgery.
I just wanted out of there.
Then I had the privilege of meeting Dr K, an oncologist with the bedside manner of a boorish oaf.
Dr K. informed me that all the prayers in the world wouldn’t be enough to save me.
He also made it clear that I could go to 100 different doctors, and they would all confirm this.
At that point, I was not fearing cancer as much as being “treated” by these two doctors.
So out the door I went, thinking of all the other possibilities that surely must exist.
After trying a little of this and some of that, I was doing fairly well.
I had taken total charge of my personal health, while doing my best to reduce the level of stress in my life, and even taking an extended time off from work.
I became my own full-time job.
It was the best job I ever had.
Reconnecting with myself.
Finally becoming Number One.
