I’ve done a lot of things in my life. Things I’m proud of. Things that scared me but made me feel alive.
I’ve watched a glacier calve in Alaska next to my wife, Zanne, both of us in awe of a world carved by time and ice. We’ve camped at the finish line of the Talladega 500 in a million-dollar RV—definitely not ours, but for that weekend, we felt like royalty. I even got to interview Jimmie Johnson. We’ve cheered on the Packers at Lambeau and the Blackhawks at the United Center. I’ll never forget the first time we stood, speechless, overlooking Yosemite Valley. Just… awe.
We’ve done a lot.
We’ve been through a lot.
Zanne has been my partner through all of it. The wins, the losses, the “how did we survive that” moments. And the quiet ones too—like our “dog in the bed” mornings with Molly. She’s more than my wife. She’s my grounding force. My reminder that love is a verb.
And now we’re here—this chapter. Cancer.
I’ve always said not much scares me. And I’ve meant that.
But this?
This has shaken me to my core.
I’ve always been the fixer. The protector. The one who takes care of everyone else. Not the guy who needs help. Not the one who’s vulnerable.
But I can’t fix cancer. I can’t outwork it or power through it.
And that’s maybe the hardest part of all—letting go of control.
Letting go of control and accepting help.
Letting go and admitting I’m scared. That I’m hurting. That I’m not in charge of this.
But here’s what I can do:
I can lean on the person who’s always been there.
I can listen when she says, “We’ve got this.”
I can believe her when she tells me we’ll walk through it together.
Because I know this to my core—having someone who knows your soul, who’s walked with you through fire and stayed, is as healing as any medication or infusion.
Zanne makes me want to live.
She makes me want to fight.
She reminds me that this isn’t just about surviving cancer. It’s about us. About protecting what time we have left. About making every moment count.
Yeah, it’s cliché to say “every day is a blessing.”
But I get it now.
Not because of a card.
Because I’m living it.
And because I have Zanne.
If you’re struggling with letting go of control during a serious illness, this article from Psychology Today really spoke to me.
