You’re Still Not Right! (PG13)

You’re Still Not Right! (PG13 - Enter at Your Own Risk) (Beware of Potty Talk)

Well, the neck tumor was out and I was healing well.  No massive bulge in my neck when I strain lifting anymore, and if I flex my neck (yes, that’s a thing) I only have veins and muscles on one side!  So, that is almost as cool and I was a little excited I still had a party trick! My neck is numb on that side, so shaving sucks and I don’t really know what I am doing unless I am looking in a mirror.  So there is a fear that I might accidentally cut my throat and not even feel it.  But overall I feel good, and getting back to normal, except I am still not right…

About the same time I was getting my neck diagnosed and treated, I was also dealing with sleep issues related to having to get up and urinate 6-10 times a night. I was barely getting any sleep at all. This had been going on for well over a year and was definitely wearing on me in ways I didn’t even realize.  I understand why sleep deprivation is used for interrogation purposes because I would have told you anything you wanted to know if you promised me I could sleep. Granted I drink about 1 to 1.5 gallons of water per day but most of that is before noon.  The longer this went on the longer my bathroom breaks would take as well and the “Flow got Slow.”  There was a hope that “MAYBE” my tumor had been pushing on some nerve that was affecting my bladder, or at least the neurological relay that said “dude, you ‘got’s’ to go man!”  This was a slim hope and unfortunately one that did not hold true.  So after the neck surgery it was time to figure out what was going on below the Equator, South of the Mason Dixon line, way down South in Dixie (anatomically speaking).

My family doctor referred me to a urologist.  Again, I don’t do doctors.  Not because I don’t like them, but because I never needed them, so now another specialist to add to the list!  I think I knew a couple jokes about Urologists when I was in Elementary School?  Maybe that was the planet Uranus? I don’t really remember, but somebody has to be the butt of the joke!  My frustration was starting to build and I wanted to know, “When was this medical stuff going to end?” NOT ANYTIME SOON!  I got my referral to go see a urologist and waited about 2-3 weeks to get in.  I show up for my appointment and I was the youngest one there by 30 years. I didn’t know if this should concern me or if the staff would like me more because they didn’t have to deal with a really really old dude (just an old one). 

I am not really shy, and not much embarrasses me, but this was new territory.  Why am I here?  Well, (in a really quiet voice I explained) I have been peeing 6-11 times a night and can’t sleep, and my “flow won’t go” (this became one of my rapping tag lines).  It has been happening for nearly a year now and thought I ought to have it looked at.  Little did I know they were going to do a whole lot more than look.  

The nurse took me back, “Hey Brice, didn’t think I would see you here.” Not for sure what that means?  Is it a compliment?  “Well, I didn’t think I would know everyone who works here, so that makes us even”.  She asked me more questions than a four-year-old trying to figure out the purpose of life.  She moved me from the interrogation room to the waiting room for the doctor.  His room was different.  There were new instruments out that I had never see before so I was excited to have things to touch and play with while I waited.  Don’t worry I didn’t blow up the plastic glove to look like a giant turkey (although I have gotten in trouble for that in the past).  Eventually, the doctor came in with a new nurse and I told him my entire story again.  He asked some questions like:  does it hurt when you pee, is there blood, do you leak during the day?  Seriously, this was getting weird now.  No, no, no.  I just go to the bathroom a lot and can’t sleep and now my “flow won’t go.” 

He wanted me to do a pee test in the corner of his office in a bucket that had a plastic cone around it.  Kind of like the “cone of shame” a dog wears to keep it from biting or licking itself after a surgery.  It really kind of made me feel the same as what a dog must, I thought to myself.  He was working on the computer and the nurse was laying some things out for the second part of this party and here I was in the corner trying to pee.  Seriously, this is a lot of pressure.  Supposedly it was like a radar gun in there and it was going to measure the speed and forcefulness my pee. I felt like I was a being scouted to be called up to the major leagues as a pitcher.  I wondered if I could break 100 miles per hour?  I wondered what the world record was for this contraption? Whatever, I just wanted to get this done.  I had hoped that (I thought very naively) they can tell me what is wrong after this and I could go home and take a magic pill and go back to my awesome self.  I stood there and stared down the cone of shame until I couldn’t hold back any more, but I barely set the pee meter off. Talk about embarrassing.  The doctor looked at me and said my stream was horrible and I should be able to pee a hole in the wall.  That sounded pretty cool but gross at the same time. It recorded my pee failure on a piece of paper like it was an earthquake machine recording the seismic shift, except mine looked like a baby after shock.  Just to make it worse the doctor told me what his score was and mine was pathetic. Really, you want to have a pissing contest?  I thought that is just something people said to prove a point! So, I told him I could beat him in an arm wrestling competition, which seemed more important in my mind.  I really expected my name to be printed on a wall of shame in the lobby the next time I came to an appointment.  And to think I was paying for this. 

Just when you don’t think it was weird enough, the doctor wanted to do an ultrasound to see my bladder up-close and personal. Warm jelly (check). Black and white computer screen (check).  Long wand thingy they are going to push on my bladder area (check).  Paper sheets to lay back on to relax. (check).  Awkward request for me to drop my pants and lay back with the nurse and himself waiting (check).  Well, my bladder was still half full.  He measured my bladder wall which was about 4 times thicker than it should be, so I reminded him I worked out which did not seem to impress him. How they had to check my prostate. No issue there thankfully. After all that was over, he said he wanted to give me a pill!  Seriously, are you FREAKING KIDDING ME!  A PILL, NOW? Couldn’t you lead with that and if it didn’t work go to the next stage.  “You need to take Flomax and this should fix you up.” Great! A Pill! That is exactly what I wanted.  I went home to take a shower, call my therapist to talk through what just happened, and then go get my pills so that I could be alright and my “flow would go,” but little did I know we were just starting in on a journey that would nearly kill me. 

Easy answers are not always the best answers. Take a pill! If life were as easy as 2+2=4 we would all be able to solve the problems of life.  All I wanted was a pill and they gave it to me, but here is the problem—it did not work!  Most of the time in life (not necessarily medicine) if you just take a pill everything will NOT be okay.  If I just do the right thing, then everything will work out okay!  Nope! If I just love my spouse, they will love me back!  Nope! If I move forward and focus on my future my past will go away! NOPE! If I work out and eat right, I will be healthy medically!  Definitely NOPE! If I go to work each day and go above and beyond and become a transparent leader, then I will be noticed and get that big promotion!  I hope so, but possibly NOPE! And the easy answers and the pills of life can keep being handed out but there is no guarantee everything is going to be okay. 

What I have found is in my life for over 20 years is if I kept taking the pills that culture offered, to try to find the easy answers to make everything okay, but the longer I went in life and the more cultural pills I took, the less they worked. Alcohol repressed my past for several years, but its effects continued to wear off and left lasting effects on my long term memory.  Inappropriate relationships seemed like a pretty good tasting pill at the time, but left images in my mind and more pain in my heart.  Drugs?  Education?  Overachieving? Travel? Going to church every time the doors opened?  Serving in my community?  All pills I tried but none seemed to work. All were like Band-Aid’s put over cancer.  I looked okay on the surface but the disease continued to spread underneath eating at every part of me.  I tried everything I could but still didn’t get better. 

All of us have things that need to be treated and I think our “go to” is to just take a pill, the easy way.  Short cuts when we are driving can be great if we know they are tried and true, but if we don’t we can go down roads into places that are hard to get out of and that we did not attend to go to.   I remember driving through the back roads of Arkansas and saw a ferry on the map that would take you across a river instead of having to drive all the way around the river and lake.  It would be a fun experience to drive my car onto a ferry and to float along and save time.  I took the short cut!  I drove to the end of the road where the ferry loaded but here was the problem.  There was no ferry.  No line.  No pill.  Upon further investigation there was a sign at the water’s edge where the road literally ended at. The sign stated, “Sorry for the inconvenience but the ferry no longer runs.”  What?  This was my short cut and it was on the map!  Why would it be on the map if it didn’t exist?  No ferry?  No shortcut?  No pill?  My shortcut added 45 minutes to my trip. 

It’s a lesson that I remember in life that short cuts are just that—shortcuts.  They cut short your learning.  They cut short your experiences.  They cut short your ability to grow and change.  They cut short your relationships.  They cut short (at least in my life) your deeper healing. They cut short a deeper foundation.  Shortcuts do what they are supposed to do, they cut short.  Don’t get me wrong I love saving time but not at the expense of adding in pain and problems.  In life shortcuts usually mean we are exchanging an easy way that is temporary for something later that will be harder because we didn’t spend the time at the beginning laying the right foundation.  I had one friend say it this way to me, “Brice you can play now and pay later or pay now and play later.” 

As I went to graduate school I didn’t make the time to read every book, so I read the reviews of the books that I was supposed to read.  It was a shortcut that cut short the depth of my education.  In college I couldn’t stand American Literature class so I listened to people talk about all the stories and sat in on their study halls, but I did not read the stories.  Another short cut that cut short my collegiate experience.  I could go on and on with short cuts I took in life. If only I could just take a pill!  Wanna lose weight? Just take this pill! But, it would take years and even decades to finally figure out that I was still not right. 

It would take total failure, and my life falling apart, for me to look for the deeper issues. It would take the collapse of a marriage, the loss of more friends that I care to think about, the loss of employment because I would quit my jobs and move on because it got too personal, the loss of some of the best years of my life, the loss of wealth and personal growth, and the list could go on and on.  I found that there would be no short cuts to healing. Dealing with the cracks of my character, integrity, and the person I had become and in many ways still am and fight against every day of my life.  It was not only going to take avoiding the short cuts of life, but it appeared that I was going to have to take the longest way there, pull over at every rest area, go below the speed limit, and then stop and talk to people along the way to be sure I was still on the right track. In other words, a pill was not going to fix it, it was going to require pretty evasive surgery.  If I am honest with you I would prefer to take a shortcut, until I find out it’s just a dead end.  Even though the doctor did some weird stuff to me, I still left happy that I only had to take a pill.  Or at least that is what I thought, but medically—just like in life, I was getting ready to find out that I still was not right. 

As a Transparent Leader we are called to stop taking short cuts because all they do is cut short our influence on the people we are leading.  If I only share 50% of who I am with you in these pages then that is all you will see.  The same is true in our marriages, workplace, friendships, etc.  I am the poster child of sharing “just enough” to get you to shut up and stop asking questions. But I have found that my influence and growth stop where I stop.  Of course I have to learn when and what to share in an appropriate manner.  This chapter is proof of that.  This is the extremely edited version of my doctor’s room experience, but you know 100% of what happened in that torture chamber.  We all have to choose how we say things, where we say them at, and who we say them to—that called “wisdom.”  Something, I don’t always have (just ask around). 

My hope for each of us is we can get real and stop just taking the pill, the short cut and start looking for deeper ways that we can invest in those that we are leading.  I know it’s hard!  But I have come to learn that if it is hard for us who are developing in our leadership, then how much harder is it for those you are leading.  Be a conduit of change for those around you and let’s show them that there is something better.  Lets’ show them that they can be Transparent Leaders who show others who they really are!

The First Cut is the Deepest!

The First Cut is the Deepest

It was almost time for surgery. This was the first surgery I’ve ever had, in fact it is the first time I have ever been in the hospital other than to visit someone.  I did have stitches as a kid when I fell off the monkey bars (I think those have been outlawed now). Fourteen stitches later I was back hanging upside down showing off for the ladies.  But this time it’s not outpatient, I’m actually being admitted to the hospital. I get a cool open-view gown to wear, an adjustable bed with just enough buttons for a man to feel like he actually has power, and someone at your beckon call when you push one of those magical buttons!  I was about 24 hours away from getting sliced and diced.  The hospital just called with a reminder of all the pre-surgery requirements, most importantly was not to eat or drink anything after 8 p.m. WHAT?!

It was the night before surgery and all through the house,

I was hangry as hell and could have eaten a mouse. 

I could have no water, no food, or no coke,

my mouth was dry and I started to choke. 

The morning came with no food in sight,

But everyone else was eating and I wanted to fight. 

Okay, enough of that!  I was hangry.  I have eaten 6 meals a day for the past two years.  I get up at 4 a.m. every morning and eat my first meal before going to the gym and then eat immediately when I get home, and then another meal about 10:30 a.m.  My surgery was scheduled for 10 am so basically I was missing my first three meals and by the time I woke up and in my room, I should have been eating my fifth meal.  That is missing nearly two days of meals for the average man!  This was not cool.  I will admit now that I did take a few drinks of water, chewed some gum and ate 5 pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

About a week or so prior to my surgery I asked my “friends” on Facebook to help me come up with a surgery playlist.  Most of my friends understood the challenge but a few of them missed the mission totally only making it even funnier (most of them were blond, but I won’t mention that).  It was simple: “Suggest songs that I can listen to prior to surgery and after, that have surgery references in them or lyrics that could be translated in a weird way to support this mission.”  I received over 175 songs!  That is awesome and my friends are so warped which I also love.  There were easy ones like Bryan Adams, “Cuts Like A Knife” or Sheryl Crow’s “The First Cut Is The Deepest”, to the more obscure ones like “Staying Alive” or “Another One Bites The Dust” (Which is also a GREAT wedding anthem I might add). 

I had my bag packed for my overnight adventure, music loaded, phone, charger, and a large snack bag for the After Surgery Party. I really wasn’t nervous.  I had never had this experience, so really did not know what to be nervous about other than the doctor having too much caffeine and getting the shakes before he started slitting my neck, but he was a professional so I trusted him.  We finally arrived to the hospital in Panama City (Yep, the same town that was destroyed by a hurricane less than a year earlier).  I figured just to up the difficulty level of having surgery, you might as well go to a war zone and have it done!  The hospital was awesome and got us checked in and we went to sit and wait until we were called for pre-op.  One of my coworkers/friends came by to hang out for a bit and pray with me.  They called me back and we got up and started to walk out.  The nurse awkwardly asked if my friend (male) was coming back to the pre-surgery area.  So, I appropriately introduced him (just to have a little fun) as my partner (coworker-partner, whatever).  It was fun to watch them both squirm. 

I arrived in the pre-surgery area and got my air-conditioned robe, baggie to put my valuables in, and fancy socks with grips.  I got in my bed with buttons and got ready for the barrage of questions that would be repeated about 1000 times.  Can you tell me your name? Yes! (Awkward Silence! I was taught never to ask a close ended question unless you didn’t want an answer) I always relented and finally gave it to them:  Benjamin Brice Early.  What is your birthday?  May 23. (Are you going to send me a card?)  Do you have any allergies?  Pollen.  Have you ever had any problem with drugs administered during anesthesia? I have never had anesthesia, but I have never had a problem with drugs—I have liked every one I ever took!  (God help these nurses).  Do you struggle with depression? Only when they play rap music on the radio.  Can you tell me why you are here today?  Well, I was the 10th caller and won a free spa day and here I am!  And the list went on and so did my answers!  Every time a new person came in they asked the same series of questions I gave the same series of answers, at least for a while.  Sometimes it gets tiring being so funny. 

They came to put in my IV for fluids and get me ready for my drug cocktail.  Now this may sound weird (shocker), but nurses get pretty excited about sticking me with needles.  I have great veins!  I have been to other doctors’ appointments where one nurse will call another one back to look at my veins—I felt like such a piece of meat!  Or another appointment where they were simply doing my weight and blood pressure, but once that blood pressure cuff tightened up the nurse looked at me and said, “I would like to get you in the lab to draw blood.”  It felt a little forward, but I took it as a compliment.  So, I knew I wasn’t going to disappoint for my first surgery ever.  My nurse got a little twinkle in her eyes when she saw these blue veins staring her down. 

My anesthesiologist came by to talk about what she would be doing.  After asking me 20 questions, she asked if I wanted Pina Colada flavor for my drug cocktail (I like her).  I told her no it was too sweet but I would like to keep it tropical.  She asked, “Margarita?”.  No, to salty, been watching my sodium levels so I don’t retain water. It is almost speedo season.  I told her I would prefer to go with the Long Island Iced Tea. We laughed and she drugged me…

Finally, the doctor came in and gave the final orders and asked if I had any questions.  I couldn’t resist, so I started with:

1) Can you tell me your full name?

2) Why are you here today? 

3)  When is your birthday?

4) Is there anyone at home that makes you feel unsafe? (that is a fun one to answer)

5) Is there someone here that will drive you home after work?

I stopped there in light of time, but I think they got the point.  No questions.  I told all my new nurse and doctor friends it’s been nice knowing you as they put all my hair in a new plastic cap as if I was going to go prep some food somewhere, and then they wheeled me off. 

We went through some big metal doors and into the operating room.  I was a little nervous at this point, not due to the surgery, but mainly due to my open air gown and the table I was going on was cold medal.  And then at the foot of the bed they rolled up a covered table and where they then took the white sheet off of it as they adjusted the lights above my head for my upcoming photo shoot (I guess).  Laying on the table were about 200 really shiny surgery tools.  At that point I took it upon myself to remind them that I was only there to get a tumor taken out of my neck and apologized for all of jokes about a spa day. 

That’s all I remember.  It was pretty magical. Nothing!  Blank! (they should bottle that stuff and send it with you to staff meetings or family reunions) I woke up in another room I had not been in, with nurses I had never seen, on a different table.  My first thought was, I sure hope the transfer with this open air gown went ok. My second thought, YES—new people to work my jokes on.  New nurses came by asking if I felt ok.  Really?  I had no clue how I felt.  They did keep offering me ice chips so I took them.  I finally asked if they had any flavored snow cones.  The doctor came out and spoke to my wife while I was in recovery. Everything went great, better than great.  He expected a 4-6 hour surgery and was able to finish in 1.5 hours. (AWESOME--That means I have only missed 4 instead of 5 meals!)  No nerve damage and no neurological damage that we can see (Thank God, because I didn’t have much to work with) and your tumor was pretty impressive in size (Well thank you very much doctor).  He only had to make a 7-8-inch incision instead of a 14-16 inch because he could reach down into my chest cavity and pull it right out (Okay, that is gross).

I was pretty bored for the next hour as I laid there eating non flavored ice chips and talking to random nurses to pass the time. I even tried to talk to some other patients that were coming out of surgery to see if I could get any good dirt on them, but the nurses started shutting curtains like this was not normal behavior.  Must be those hippopotamus rules they try to keep around here.  Finally, another new nurse came and got me and wheeled me to my room where I got a fancy bed with buttons.  I could even operate the TV from my bed.  Why would anyone want to trade this in and go home.  It was genius!  Do you know how many times a day I lose the remote?  Or when I need to get someone’s attention in the other room I have to scream across the house, but now I can just push a button.

The rest of time was pretty uneventful. Some new nurses arrived, so I was able to recycle some old jokes, blue veins, protein bars, and the occasional push of the nurse’s station button just to make sure my bed was working.  Don’t worry I always told them something important when I called like, “thanks for dinner it was really great”, or “Good night, I will see you in morning unless you have a shift change or I die and if so it was great to meet you.”   I am sure they really appreciated this personal touch. 

Tumor Extraction Party Day, with my wife, Jordin

I sat and continued to listen to my surgery play list and take in the experience as I listened to “Cuts like a Knife” and “First Cut is the Deepest”.  I started thinking about life and the surgeries that we all probably need to undergo.  Not physical ones necessarily, but emotional, spiritual, mental, etc.  It was interesting how many people touched my chart from the time I arrived to the time I left.  Well over 30 people I can remember. Over 30 people for a tumor!  What would it look like if we allowed 30 people around us to help us with the tumors of our life. The tumor of abuse as a kid or an adult.  The tumor of addiction.  The tumor of depression or anxiety.  The tumor of unethical decisions.  The tumor of a failing marriage.  The tumor of a broken dream, a lost job, a friendship gone bad, a miscarriage, a health report, a rebellious child, a distant parent. Tumors come in many shapes and sizes don’t they?  They are placed all through our lives and affect us even when we don’t realize it. 

It took me over a year to even have my tumor in my neck looked at.  It took me over 20 years to have the tumor of sexual abuse looked at.  Thirty people are you kidding me?  Wouldn’t it be easier to just learn to live with the tumor?  Yes, and no.  Yes, you can live with it but it will have its consequences. It reminds me of throwing a rock into the water of a lake and watching the ripple effect go out from where the rock started the motion.  Did you know even after you can’t see the ripple effect it is still going, in fact it hits the shore and then bounces off and starts coming back. Trauma (no matter how small we think it is) does the same thing.  When it happens in our lives it is like the rock dropping in the water and from that the ripple effects and consequences start happening and it doesn’t matter what is in the way IT WILL affect them (and us).  You may not even be able to see the consequences at first but they are there and will eventually break through. 

I started to think about all the training and organization that went into my neck surgery.  The parking valet for patients, the receptionist girl that welcomed me and got me registered, to the nurses, doctors and even home health care folks that came by to make sure I had everything I needed when I left.  How different this is than how we care for one another in our lives in the midst of our trauma and surgeries that are needed.  Oh, we might have one or two professionals helping us (if we are really brave) and a couple friends we have let know what is happening (at least sort of know). But what would happen if we purposely surrounded ourselves with other transparent leaders with different skill sets to lighten our load during our surgery so that when we are healed up, we can do the same for them and others.  Imagine your family, your team at work, your circle of friends, your neighbors (even that guy that won’t mow his yard) ALL working together in tandem helping you.  Seems a little strange doesn’t it unless you are in the hospital.  I wonder how excited and confident you would feel in the operating room and if it was only the doctor and one other person.  The same two people admitted you, took your vitals, parked your car, registered you, gave you the good drugs, rolled you down to surgery, did surgery, hung out with you afterwards, took you to recovery and then to your room, went and got your food, came running every time you pushed your buttons on the magic bed, and then went and printed your papers for discharge.  That seems even MORE strange and dangerous, and you would agree that the level of care would drop dramatically and you probably would just want to keep the tumor because it was safer. 

Stay with me for just another couple paragraphs.  Maybe, this is why we try to live with so much pain in our lives.  We don’t have anyone to help us.  If we do, it is only one or two people and I hope you can see that is not enough.  You see, transparent leadership involves everyone in your tribe, not just the warriors.  Everyone caring for everyone so everyone can be better.  That sounds like a pretty counter cultural view of leadership doesn’t it?  I thought I was supposed to rise to the top and tell those who are below me what to do so we can make more money, have more power, create more influence?  That would be closer to being a great dictator or at best a king rather than leader. 

Who in your life do you need to let in?  I promise there are people waiting and wanting to help—they just don’t know.  And here is some free insight from my life.  It is actually easier to deal with my old tumors in life—the ones that are there that need to be dealt with but seem to be lying dormant—rather than the new developing tumors that are happening in real time that I can see every time I look in the mirror, or go to work, or engage with certain people.  But here is the thing that I have found in life—EVERY TUMOR IS CONNECTED IN SOME WAY(S).  It’s the ripple effect in the water. They all keep crossing and bumping into each other affecting the direction of my choices in life.  Most of the time I find my past tumors have unfortunately helped form my new ones.  The attitudes, behaviors, insights or lack thereof that I have come out of my inability to process the tumors I had in my life as a child, teenager, and young adult. 

I need help and so do you, and just like Sheryl Crow said, the first cut is the deepest, but it opens the wounds of life to breath. And I hear they can even heal if we surround ourselves with the right people and enough of them. My encouragement is to gather your tribe and be brave and trust them to talk alongside of you.  Share your tumor(s) with them.  Show it to them.  And let them play their role in helping you heal so you can help others do the same.  Being a transparent leader sucks some times, but as you work through the pain or problem you and everyone around you rises to a new level.  One last piece of advice and I will stop typing.  If you don’t feel like you aren’t making progress its okay to go get a second or third opinion, but I would also challenge you to see how many people you have brought around you - maybe it’s time to expand your tribe!

What’s Wrong With Me?

What’s Wrong With Me?

It’s a question all of us ask at some point in our lives.  “What’s wrong with me?”  Maybe it’s after someone we love has left us, or after losing a job. Or maybe you are like me, and you locked your keys in your car 3 times in 2 weeks and the same locksmith came to your house each time and you walked away from that situation asking, “What is wrong with me?”  We ‘kind of’ mean it as a rhetorical question, but at the same time we ‘sort of’ want an answer—but only if it is a good one.  “Brice you are so focused on others you just forget where your keys are sometimes!”  “You were too advanced for that job and probably just threatened the CEO!” “They were broken and just didn’t know how to be loved the “right” way!”  Those are the good answers we want to hear but somewhere inside of us (me) I know that there was actually something wrong with me.  “Brice, you are too scattered and disorganized right now in life, slow down and pay attention!” “Your personality was too combative, you were too passive, your skill set wasn’t quite right, you didn’t fit on the team the way you should have so we had to let you go.”  “You didn’t invest yourself in the relationship like you should have and closed yourself off and became cold.”  What’s wrong with me?

It is a tough question to ask and an even harder one to hear an answer to sometimes.  Nearly three years ago I was forced to ask the question, “What is wrong with me?” After coming home from the gym to a group of friends who arrived early at our house.  I walked in the door and one of my friends who was an ER doctor came over and asked, “What’s wrong with your neck?”  There was a bulge on the right side. I told him I had been working out so there was a pretty good chance it was just muscle.  He told me to go get it checked.  Like a good man I did exactly what he said to do, ONE YEAR LATER.  The bulge continued to get bigger and when I lifted weights and strained, it protruded out of the side of my neck.  Personally, I thought it was pretty cool to brag about and for party tricks, but I finally relented and went to get it checked.  I started with my family doctor, who immediately sent me to an ENT. What’s wrong with me?

The ENT ordered an xray, CT Scan, MRI, and did an ultrasound on site. I started looking all this up to see what it actually meant and after the ultrasound I was excited to find out that I was not pregnant—it was only a tumor in my neck!  I thought he would just say something like, “It’s all good, bro! Just rub this cream on it and it’ll go away!” I wish it was that easy. The doctor said, “while you’re here today, we might as well drain it.” Honestly, I wanted to go home and keep my cool party trick in my neck, but I didn’t want to turn in my ‘man card’ for being a wuss.  “Okay, let’s do it”. What’s wrong with me?!

The nurse was very nice, but a little condescending when she took my hand and held it and said, “It’s going to be okay. The bigger they are the more scared they are (kind laugh ensues)”.  My first thought was—note to self, no Christmas card for her.  The doctor inserted the needle guiding it with the ultrasound machine so that he hit the problem area.  He started draining it and filled one giant syringe and then ½ of another.  He pulled out the needle and held gauze against the side of neck as if I were bleeding out and asked the nurse to get me a glass of water. Personally, I was thinking whiskey and a stick would have been a lot better twenty minutes ago, but whatever.  They sat me up and gave me the water and I asked if I could lay back down.  I about fainted, 3 times.  I WAS a wuss!  What is wrong with me?  I looked in the mirror and I had completely sweat through my shirt. I looked like I had run a marathon. Regardless, I was glad it was over.

I asked the doctor what was next, and he said, “we will let you know but don’t worry”.  Don’t worry?  Seriously?  I came in to have you give me topical cream to make all my problems go away and now I have been lanced and drained and my “specimen” is being sent off for pathology. Are we talking about cancer here? And I can’t even stand up straight without fainting. Don’t worry?  What is wrong with me?!  He told me, “You have nothing to worry about.  We see these all the time, although yours is bigger than most - almost all of them come back clear.  We will call you in 2-3 days to let you know”.  “Almost always?”  I am the guy that locked his keys in the car three times in the past two weeks.  I am the guy who has been trapped in the lady stall of the public restroom more times than I can count because I don’t pay attention to small details.  I have been lost driving, over-drafted my bank account because I tried to predict when my paycheck would get deposited and when the check I wrote would clear and usually always came up short.  I am that guy! so “almost always” doesn’t really apply here. Two days later I got the call that the pathology came back clear.  What is wrong with me? NOTHING—or at least that’s what I thought. 

I thought it was just a weird fluke cyst, until about 6 months later I was lifting weights and I noticed something bulging out of the side of my neck again.  My first thought was, “hello little friend, you are back to go do some more party tricks!” and then reality sat in and I thought well that has to be a muscle because I had the tumor drained.  So, I did what any good man would do, I watched it grow for the next month or so.  But I started having other symptoms, like losing my voice, having difficult hearing in my right ear, and trouble breathing and sleeping at night. After avoiding it for as long as I could and trying to hide it by wearing turtlenecks (which are very unstylish and hot to wear in Florida) I went back to my ENT.  I did not want the needle again, but knew I needed to get this thing checked out.  Upon looking at it this time, he told me I need to go see a different ENT.  My first assumption was I must be special and deserve better care than the medieval torture that I had received prior.  I came to find out they just have fancier equipment and charge your insurance company more, but they did have free coffee and bottled water in their lobby so I attempted to drink the value of my copay. 

After more weeks of waiting I finally got an appointment and went to see him.  After another x-ray and MRI, his first words to me after introducing himself were, “Man, that is a big bulge in your neck!”  My response was, “Actually doc, I am just excited to see you.”  The fun part about going to lots of doctor appointments is you can repeat the same jokes over and over to really perfect them and see what works.  So it was that response or “Thanks, I get that all the time!” The first one was a winner and got a good laugh out of him, although I have found that the ENT community lacks in humor compared to the Oncology department (those are some funny people). 

After telling me everything the last doctor told me, he said that the cyst had grown back larger and much faster than it should have, and he wanted to send me to a head and neck surgeon. Well, that escalated quickly!  Can’t we try the needle thing again? I was out of jokes. Cancer was back on the table now. What is wrong with me?!  This doctor was concerned how large it was and that it’s likely attached to some lynch nodes. He referred me to a surgeon in Pensacola that was supposed to give me a call in the next few weeks.  A few weeks? Whew, I thought this was important.  So I went home and downplayed it all again but told some friends and family who then started advocating on my behalf by encouraging me to call and push them to act more quickly.  This was too long to wait!  Well, I really wasn’t looking forward to having my head filleted open and what happens if they DO find something.  At least right now I just have a cool party trick that I can show off and share couple good jokes about. 

Long story short! A friend knew one of the surgeons in the area that specializes in this and he called on my behalf and they got me an appointment the following day. Other people told me this was God working in the details of my life and my story, but to me it seemed like things just kept getting serious faster than I was ready for. Honestly, I have a lunch appointment tomorrow so it might not be a good day for me.  I changed my plans (by request) and went in to get another MRI, CT Scan, and Ultra Sound (Still not pregnant). (keep in mind this is now the 4th doctor I’ve seen for the same issue). I imagine the people at my insurance claims division were cussing my name by this point, but little did they know it was about to get worse.  The doctor sat me down after looking at everything and said, “you have a cyst about the size of an oblong softball in your neck that you probably have had from birth, but for whatever reason it’s filled up and grown recently.” It’s called a bronchial cleft cyst.  It appears it is attached to a lymph node and runs down past your voice box into your chest cavity.  We do not know what damage it has done, and probably has all of the nerves on that side of your body wrapped around it.  It may even be pushing on neurological portions of your brain that could cause problems”.  My first thought honestly was that is why I keep locking my keys in my car and losing things!  I knew it wasn’t really my fault, it is a medical condition!  (I wonder if I will get a handicap sticker or if this will get me to the front of the line at Disney.)

What about a cancer doctor? We are not sure, but need to test for more types and places but it is definitely not in the cyst because due to the size you would already be dead.  Which I told him, would make this appointment very awkward, i.e. Weekend at Bernie’s.  So what do I need to do?  Drum roll… More tests. He sent me to Shands Hospital Oncology department in Gainesville for specialized cancer testing and… we need to drain it… AGAIN.  What is wrong with me?? 

At some point you start wondering where this is heading.  Does it really matter?  I am worth more dead than I am alive (at least on paper).  When you get to the point of 4-7 doctor appointments per week you start feeling like everything is slipping out of your control.  Here is the thing though, I know it is not too much different in most areas of our lives.  We all love control at some level.  Control of our job, our schedules, our relationships, where the peanut butter is on the shelf, if the toilet paper is rolled over or under, etc.  It doesn’t really matter but when you feel like everything is slipping out of your control I usually try to hold on tighter.  What is wrong with me?

“The pain we hold onto from our past only prohibits the purpose of our future…“

At our fundamental core all of us have SOMETHING wrong with us.  Past pains, problems, broken relationships, financial failures, sickness, depression, anxiety, pride, and a few of you reading this actually think you have it all together which is the scariest WRONG you could ever have because there is no acceptance or awareness of the issue.  Once we embrace our problem(s) and allow others to come alongside us, the quicker we are able to start growing through them.  Please don’t miss these steps:

1) Admit—you have something wrong with you.

2) Accept—that they have an effect on how you live your life.

3) Ask for and receive help—others to come into your pain and problems and know the real you.

When you do this, then co-workers become friends and family (good ones), friends who you watch the game with or went shopping with are now friends who are closer than a brother or sister.  They can see into you in ways you never allowed before, so that you can continue to grow as a person and as a friend. 

Don’t worry, I didn’t stay at Shands (this made the 5th doc I’d seen for this issue thus far). They stuck things in my nose, down my throat, needles in my gums, and did a head scan (was very excited they found a brain although it was not as large as I thought it would be) and no cancer was found anywhere.  I just had a giant cyst in my neck that still needed to be removed.  As much as I had been feeling sorry for myself and my “condition,” it was humbling walking through the oncology department realizing instantly how healthy and blessed I was. Perspective matters. I was reminded of something my grandfather told me one time: “Brice, if you can wipe your butt and tie your own shoes then you are in GREAT health!”  Pretty true statement right there.  As I drove home after Shands, I simply had to change my mindset to look at what was ahead and not focus on all I had gone through. 

What is wrong with me?  I don’t know, but I promise something is!  What are you going to do with it?  Hide behind it?  Get angry?  Deny it? Cover it up?  Lie about it?  Compensate for it? Or dig in and admit, accept, and allow others to be a part of it!  It is not easy, and I am living proof that these steps will take a can take a lifetime if you don’t face them when you should, but they not only allow me to grow as a leader but help everyone that I allow to come into my circle of influence.  I hope you will continue to grow as a Transparent Leader and show others the real you.