A reminder of what’s really important

How caring for a loved one fighting cancer was a a wakeup call to what matters most

A reminder of what’s really important

The day is etched in my mind for eternity. Here I was, experiencing every golfer’s dream – walking the majestic, sacred-like holes of Augusta National Golf Club. Round two of the 2018 Masters tournament. After years keeping my fingers and toes crossed, only to be denied by the luck of the lottery, I had finally made it.

For the fortunate few who have made their way to this Disneyland for passionate golfers, you know that even the best televisions do not do justice to the stunning Allister MacKenzie masterpiece. Not to mention walking where so many of the game’s greats have won green jackets and pulled off historic shots.

From a golf lover’s perspective, the day was nothing short of spectacular. However, there was one rather gnawing and troublesome thing going on that spring day. My partner and I arrived in Augusta the day prior after meeting a gynecological oncologist at the University of Michigan. We had recently found out she had cancer. After meeting with several oncologists at top-rated hospitals around the country, we landed on treatment in-state at UM. Her cancer was very rare and extremely aggressive. The UM oncologist said he would have performed surgery the very next day if he had an opening – the day we were to enjoy azalea cocktails, pimento cheese sandwiches, and Georgia peach ice cream.

While I’ll forever remember everything about my day at the Masters – the Georgia pines, the azaleas and dogwoods of Amen Corner, Magnolia Lane, the roars as Tiger flushed an iron on the par-three fourth, what I’ll also remember is how the cancer journey we were about to begin would forever change my love and passion for the game.

My dad was the first one to put a club in my hands, sawing off a putter to fit my young boy size. He taught me the game. It was love at first swing. Growing up, I’d play many rounds with my parents, getting better each year. By high school, I was playing competitively on the team. Like many trying to perfect this craft and having a taste of success, you want more. You begin to focus solely on score, not the process or experience.

By the time I was an adult, I had unrealistic expectations. Because of this, I was often unhappy with my round. During the round, I sometimes let my temper get the best of me. How can you claim to love a game that makes you so angry when you play?

Funny thing about life, like a string of bogies, is that it has a funny way creeping up on you. As I got older, my career took on greater responsibilities, I got married, bought a house, and had a baby. Later a divorce. With life’s changes, I was no longer playing much golf. At least not as much as I’d like. As you can imagine, my game therefore didn’t stay sharp, and I was usually disgusted after most of my rounds anyway.

Somehow, I lost site that the game of golf is just that. It’s a game. Why would I get so excited to tee it up, just to come home after in a sour mood?

So after a lifelong love affair with a game that often frustrated me beyond belief, I found myself at Augusta National, taking in every step, sight, sound, taste and feel. Yet my love and I had just been hit with the devastating news that no one ever wants to hear or face. I knew once I got home from the Masters, I would be tried and tested in ways that neither golf nor life ever had.

It probably goes without saying that I hardly picked up a club that season. My focus was solely as caregiver, watching my beautiful partner bravely battle this disease with the fight and conviction of a boxer in the ring. All the while continuing to co-raise a son whom I am a very proud dad. Golf was the furthest thing from my mind.

Just after chemotherapy was complete (following an extensive surgery), and before the grueling radiation treatments would begin, I took the opportunity to play golf. Although I’d not played much over the last decade, particularly that year, I played with a group of fellow golf-obsessed friends for an annual weekend to top destinations around the state. This was our 13^th annual.

Something strange happened on that trip. I felt a calm and sense of peace I’d never felt on the course before. I stayed present with each shot, never racing ahead thinking of what I needed to shoot, or dwelling on past shots and holes, upset about what could have been. I was suddenly more cognizant to the nature around me…the gentle breeze, the warm autumn sun, the wildlife gallery lurking through the trees, the sound of my shoes walking on the grass. I shared what seemed like infinite smiles, laughs and stories with my longtime friends. Being that I hadn’t played much that summer, my scores were not the best, but I didn’t care. I don’t remember my scores. What I remember is who I was with, the compelling courses we played, and the memories we made.

Now coming into another golf season more than four years later, my refreshing new mindset has only grown. I’ve fallen in love with the game all over again, playing like a kid. Some might call me obsessed; I call it passionate. My enthusiasm and excitement for the game has never been greater. I have an attitude of gratitude every time I place the tee peg in the ground. Sure, I still want to play well and can still get upset over a bad shot, hole or round, but I quickly let it go now. I love being in nature. I study and appreciate course architecture and the history of the game. I cherish the walks and laughter. I relish every moment on the course with my friends, son and parents.

But mostly, I’m beyond grateful that I still have the love of my life by my side. She kicked cancer to the curb and remains cancer-free. Every day with her is a blessing. Her good health is like receiving a breakfast ball on the tee. She has inspired me in more ways than she knows.

Life, as I’ve learned, is indeed much like a round of golf. There are no guarantees how it will turn out. There will be ups and downs. You might stripe a drive down the middle of the fairway, only to find it in an unrepaired divot. You might wildly hook a shot, but watch it ricochet off a tree and wind up in the middle of the fairway. We cannot control these things, but we can control our attitude and how we respond. In golf, as in life, just find the ball and hit it again. Play every round like it’s your last while you have the ability and means; for it is a privilege to play. Enjoy the moments – big and small. Because we may not always get that breakfast ball.

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