I met David on the Internet.\u00a0It was to become on of the closest, most intense relationships of my life.\u00a0 For you see, a few months before he crossed my path his daughter finished the same protocol for the same type of brain tumor that my daughter just had started.\u00a0\u00a0They had successfully traversed the waters that to me were completely unknown \u2013 and frankly terrifying.\u00a0 On the pediatric brain tumor listserv, he seemed to know the pitfalls, the warning signs, the hard stuff as well as ways to make the best of life no matter the circumstance.\u00a0 David became my anchor keeping me from washing away while enduring the torture of watching my daughter deal with the harsh side effects of her treatment. \u00a0During that time I would often call or write every day.<\/p>\n
A couple of cycles into chemotherapy, I was having a tough time. \u00a0The hits seemed to keep coming for my girl. \u00a0She had been neurologically devastated by surgery.\u00a0Radiation had taken her hair \u2013\u00a0hopefully temporarily. \u00a0The tattoos though would be a reminder for life.\u00a0 A wicked gastroparesis was a gift from vincristine.\u00a0 Some weeks there was little in and nothing out. \u00a0The thief, cisplatinum, now was stealing her hearing.\u00a0Clearly I was overwhelmed drowning in sadness and angst.<\/p>\n
My voice trembled as I tried to convey my fears, regrets, guilt and total lack of a vision for a long term. \u00a0Even through the airwaves, one could see that I was on the verge of tears \u2013\u00a0ready to fall apart at any moment.\u00a0 Then my friend asked me, \u201cHave you ever noticed how cruise ships are two-toned?\u00a0\u00a0They are white at the top and red or blue at the bottom.\u201d<\/p>\n
Over the many weeks, I had gotten to know my friend. \u00a0I thought he was trying to distract me\u00a0\u2013 to give my mind something else to think about.\u00a0\u00a0He must be reaching to try to pull me out of the whirlpool of despair that was sucking me down.\u00a0 Perhaps he had some interesting story to tell of the ships that pulled into the port near his home.\u00a0 He went on to muse that it might be good if people were the same way. \u00a0\u00a0David had succeeded in getting my attention.<\/p>\n
The English citizen proudly talked about the seafaring history of his heritage island.\u00a0\u00a0Unfortunately, in the mid 1800\u2019s the insurance business made it profitable when ships sank as well as when they reached their destination. \u00a0The practice of overloading boats with goods to the point of capsizing in less than ideal weather became so commonplace that cargo ships were called \u201ccoffin ships\u201d. \u00a0A social-justice minded MP, Samuel Plimsoll, championed the safety for the sailors by advocating for a line to be placed on ships so that anyone who saw the vessel would know if it was at risk.<\/p>\n
It was such a simple thing \u2013\u00a0a visible line to know overload. \u00a0And if one couldn\u2019t see the line, it was time to either get rid of some stuff or get to a safe harbor. \u00a0Yes, wouldn\u2019t it be fantastic if people were that way. \u00a0We could instantly see whether they were at risk, the reason for floundering or just be there to be the safe place to unload.<\/p>\n
But people aren\u2019t like boats. \u00a0Sometimes it is hard to see \u2013\u00a0and even more difficult to ask for help.<\/p>\n
Over the years, this became our shorthand\u00a0\u2013 an emergency flare\u00a0\u2013 to clue the other that one or the other was in a precarious place.\u00a0 When the answer to \u201cHow are you?\u201d was returned with \u201cBeyond my Plimsoll line\u201d, each of us knew to be ready to be a safe harbor and be ready for a dump of stuff coming one\u2019s way.\u00a0 Everyone needs someone to be a safe harbor. \u00a0It can make all the difference in the way one sails through life.<\/p>\n
Watch the full FIX17 talk below!<\/em><\/p>\n