On March 15th, 2017, I found myself sitting alongside my mom & dad in a sterile examination room of M.D. Anderson in Houston, Texas; awaiting the Doctor to come & deliver the diagnosis. Several days earlier, my dad, Bill Brown (I refer to him exclusively as Pops) went to the ER as a result of a dangerous spike in his heart rate. He learned there was a growth in his kidney & needed to get to M.D. Anderson for further diagnosis as fast as possible. Outwardly, we all tried to remain optimistic & hopeful, but I can recall the collective, unspoken dread that the news awaiting us in Houston would mark only the beginning of a long, insurmountably difficult journey. 

The level of tension & anxiety in the room were palpable; it hovered in the room like an ominous fog had settled around us. As the doctor entered, he could sense the energy, as if it was all too familiar to him. Knowing there was no point in attempting to exchange pleasantries - he wasted no time in delivering the news. "It's cancerous." My stomach dropped. I was watching my worst fear unfold before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do. This can't be real. This can't be happening to my dad. Pops. The doctor continued to deliver his diagnosis, informing us of the immediate next steps, and explaining where we go from here. Frankly, I don't recall any of that. I was fixated on my dad's face. Staring at the man who provided for 5 children, raised us all to be high achieving, confident human beings, and taught me what it is to be a man. Pops. I can't imagine how overwhelming the flurry of emotions he was experiencing in that moment must have been-- Fear, sadness, confusion, anger, resentment, & despair. It was unbearable. Just as I felt tears well up in my eyes, the doctor paused for a moment, as if to give my dad a chance to process the news or interject with any questions.

His chin began to quiver as he searched for the courage to speak & through tears, he simply said, "Well as of today, I'm a cancer survivor." 

It's been said that there are but a handful of moments in our lives that truly define us, for better or worse. We typically cannot comprehend the extent to which a particular event or circumstance will shape us while it's unfolding. The wisdom we'll gain in the future is often the only key that allows us to unlock the lessons of our past.

Though as I heard my dad utter those words, I knew that I was standing in one of those moments; for both Pops and myself. I will never forget that moment as long as I live. In that moment, my dad showed me what it means to be a fighter. In that moment, Pops went from simply being my dad, and he became my hero. In the face of unconscionable circumstances, against the most daunting of opponents, he chose not to wallow in self-pity or relinquish himself to the lot he'd been given. He chose to step in to the ring, assert dominion over his fears & emotions, and give this wretched disease the fight of his life. 

Two and a half years later, on October 30th, 2019, my father celebrated his last treatment, and Pops is still cancer free. I am fighting because my dad fought. I am fighting because he taught me that the most courageous thing you can do is to step in the arena, no matter the odds nor how terrifying an opponent you may find before you, and give em hell. "...And if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

I'm fighting for you, Pops.