One Month In—A Road Forward

February 8, 2025

One month.

It’s been exactly one month since I found out I have cancer. Some days, it feels like I’ve known forever. Other days, it feels like I just got the news yesterday. My emotions are a mix of exhaustion, determination, hope, and a little bit of that dark humor that makes life bearable.

This past week was long—long in a way that blurred the lines between work and life. Balance? That concept flew out the window. It all merged into one continuous stretch of decisions, responsibilities, and the weight of the unknown.

The weight of current events is undeniable, and I see it pressing down on friends, coworkers, and those around me. The constant flood of news—political tensions, global conflicts, and personal struggles—seems to drain even the most resilient among us. Conversations feel heavier, and an unspoken exhaustion lingers in the air. Even those who usually radiate optimism appear worn down, carrying burdens that aren’t always visible. It’s a stark reminder that, while we each process things in our own way, we are collectively navigating a world that feels more uncertain and demanding than ever.

In moments like these, I find myself longing for real leadership—the kind that reassures, unites, and provides clarity amid the chaos. People are weary, searching for stability and direction, but too often, leadership feels absent or fractured. True leadership isn’t just about holding power; it’s about empathy, wisdom, and the ability to instill hope, even in difficult times. Right now, that’s what we need most.

But while we may not control the larger forces at play, we can still lead in our own ways. We can check in on each other, offer kindness in small moments, and create spaces where people feel seen and supported. We can engage in meaningful conversations, seek understanding rather than division, and contribute—however we can—to making things better. Leadership isn’t just found at the top; it starts with us. Be present for others and just listen.

The Work Dilemma: A Fork in the Road

I waffled with this though out the week. I’ve had many conversations with coworkers struggling with the uncertainty of the government’s buyout offer. It’s not an easy decision, and there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. Here’s the short version of why I chose not to take it:

The Four Corners Rule teaches us to interpret a contract only by what’s explicitly written. And when you apply that lens to the OPM’s “Fork in the Road” resignation offer, the flaws become glaring, to me, at least. The language is vague, ambiguous, belittling, and legally uncertain. That’s a gamble I can’t take. Not as someone who has been in an oversight role for nearly 25 years.

With looming lawsuits, court challenges, and no clear guarantees, the risks far outweigh the potential benefits—at least for my family. Retirement is on the horizon, possibly even before September 30. If I walk away now, I may lose flexibility and control over my future. That’s not a trade I’m willing to make.

I’ve told everyone the same thing: consult an attorney, wait for legal clarity, and make the decision that’s best for YOU. Ignore the noise. Ignore the pressure. It is your future and only you can make the decision that is best for you.

Diagnosis and The Plan

NIH results are in. The official name for my opponent in this fight: Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Treatment starts February 17. I’ll be going through N+AVD therapy, a modern, powerful combination of four drugs:

1. Nivolumab – Boosts my immune system to fight cancer

2. Doxorubicin – Stops cancer cells from growing

3. Vinblastine – Slows the spread of cancer cells

4. Dacarbazine – Damages cancer DNA to stop its growth

This regimen is a major step forward in cancer treatment. Compared to older therapies like BV-AVD, N-AVD has higher survival rates, fewer serious side effects, and less need for radiation therapy. If I have to go through this, I’m grateful to have access to a treatment that offers better odds. Here is a plain language link to the regiment.

My next week is packed

• Monday & Tuesday – In the office (because cancer or not, work doesn’t stop)

• Wednesday – Oncology visit and labs

• Thursday – Chemo training

• Monday, the 17th – First chemo session.

It’s real now. The plan is in place, and we’re moving forward.

Friends, Family, and Faith: My Foundation

If this month has taught me anything, it’s how deeply loved I am.

My family—not just my immediate family, but my Aunts, Uncles, and my Cousins, your support, encouragement, and kindness mean the world to me. You remind me that strength isn’t just about standing tall; it’s about knowing when to lean on the people who love you.

My friends and coworkers—thank you for checking in, making me laugh, and grounding me when my mind drifts into darker places. I can’t wait for the day when we raise our tankards in a victory toast. That day will come.

To my prayer warriors, those I know and those I don’t—thank you. I don’t take your prayers lightly. God has placed this journey in front of me for a reason, and I fully intend to listen and learn. Please keep praying, not just for me, but for everyone fighting their own battles.

My Fellow Government Workers

These last few weeks have tested us and I just want to tell you - Thank You.

I want to take a moment to recognize you—not just for the work you do, but for the resilience, dedication, and integrity you bring to it every day.

You are not the faceless bureaucrat, the red tape, or the convenient scapegoat for failed policies. You are the professionals who keep things running, often under immense pressure. You are the problem-solvers, the caretakers, the public servants who show up because you believe in making a difference.

When disaster strikes—when storms rage, fires burn, and crises unfold—you are there. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. You work long hours, often unseen, ensuring our communities function, that essential services reach those in need, and that stability is maintained even in the most uncertain times.

You step in when others step back. You navigate complex systems, take on immense challenges, and carry the burden of decisions you may not have made but are entrusted to implement. You bear the criticism when things go wrong and too often go unrecognized when things go right.

And yet, you keep going. Not for fame or fortune, but because you believe in something greater than yourself. You believe in the mission, in the people, and in the idea that government, at its best, can be a force for good.

To every public servant, in every role—thank you. Thank you for your time, your sacrifice, and your unwavering commitment. Stay strong, stay proud, and never doubt that what you do matters.

Moving Forward

One month in, and the road ahead is still long. But I’m walking it with clarity, purpose, and a whole army of people behind me.

Cancer is not my identity. It’s just a chapter in my story. And when the time comes, I fully intend to write the next chapter—one filled with healing, victory, and celebration.

For now, we take it one step at a time. Onward and into the breach.