A short memoir about true wellness for fathers, mothers, sons, & daughters...
He was 32 years young. I had just turned 3 years old, and I was sitting next to him on the hospital chair that fateful evening.
The oncologist who had been treating my father walked into the hospital room, nervous with sweat; he didn't want to deliver this message. "Peter, I'm sorry. It's time to get your affairs in order. The cancer has progressed too rapidly. I am so sorry... I wish there was something more we could do."
What happens when we get really sick? Where do our hearts and minds travel when the doctors and diagnoses tell us we’re “not well” anymore? I want to tell you a short story, to share with you the tragedies and health miracles I witnessed that evening.
It was just like every other snowy winter night in Toronto, Canada. I was fast asleep in the bunk bed below my little brother Nick - dreaming about grand snow forts we’d build in the morning.
A thunderclap suddenly reverberated through our entire house. Dad had fallen out of bed, and he began violently convulsing on the floor. He was having his first seizure. With ferocious maternal instinct my mom scooped Dad off the floor, loaded my little brother and me into the car, and rushed to the nearest hospital.
The doctors frantically ran countless blood tests, exams, and brain scans until they eventually found it - Dad’s brain tumor.
The look in my mom’s eyes when she saw the CT scan told me everything - our life was about to change forever. The look in my Dad’s eyes, however, was not one of fear. In his chestnut brown eyes, I saw nothing but raw determination and love. I saw a man ripped open by his fragile humanity – completely exposed and vulnerable for a frozen and perfect moment.
I met Dad for the first time in that gaze we shared together as we took our very first step into the journey that would change both of our lives forever.
The Journey Into Hell - With A Smile
Over the next 7 years I saw my father undergo 2 brain surgeries, be pumped full of chemotherapy, and withstand endless blasts of radiation. From those procedures Dad was left with two jagged 10-inch battle scars running across his skull. He lost all his hair. He lost complete control over the left side of his body from the brain surgeries, but he never lost his wellness.
The very moment Dad was diagnosed with brain cancer he implicitly began teaching me 5 lessons that would ultimately shape my view about health, wellness, sickness, and dying. I want to share these lessons with you because I know with complete certainty they can deeply improve your life too – no matter the variety of challenge you’re facing right now.
Lesson #1: Health is physical, wellness is a “meaning game,” and the very best strategy to win is to find deep purpose.
Most of us conventionally define health in the context of our bodies and I believe that’s a fine definition for practical reasons. Our bodies can be healthy or unhealthy. We either have high blood pressure or we don’t. We are either overweight or we’re not. We either have cancer, auto-immune disorders, metabolic conditions, infections – or we’re disease free. That’s the physical side of health.
Wellness is a completely different animal, it’s much less of a “textbook” definition than health. I’ve learned to define “wellness” as the internal state of thriving in relation to everything that may or may not be going well (or poorly) with our external health. My father lost much of his physical health, yet, he maintained his wellness because he found deep purpose in waking up every morning with fight in his heart, to provide for me, my mom, and little brother.
Dad found deep meaning in the challenge of leaving a lasting impact on his friends and family in the short few days he had left. He found wellness in the daily meditation of healing and creating meaning in his life.
Yes, optimal physical health can certainly help us find meaning and purpose in our lives; it’s something we should strive to build and maintain, but it’s far from necessary for a beautiful life. We can always create meaning and purpose – in spite of our physical obstacles. That brings me to Dad’s second lesson…
Lesson #2: We always have the CHOICE to show up – especially on those very bad days.
I remember the mornings after Dad’s chemo treatments. I’d hear him treacherously walking up our home’s steep winding staircase. “Click… Click… Click…” The sound of his mahogany cane carefully striking every dangerous staircase step filled my childhood with a sort of mesmerizing rhythm. I have no idea what Dad’s body felt like in those moments, but I am certain each step required every ounce of strength he could muster.
Yet, despite Dad’s pure exhaustion, he still showed up for his life (and mine).
Dad still showed up at his “big time executive job,” he still showed up as a strong, loving husband to my mom, and he still even showed up to coach me in little league – in spite of having no hair, one arm, one leg, and two giant face scars.
Because far beyond his ostensible physical limitations, my Dad also realized that he had two choices he could make in every moment – the choice to fall either into his power or his weakness. I saw Dad choose his strength on a daily basis – especially on those bad days after cancer treatments. And because Dad chose to “show up,” the next 7 years of his life were filled with the most cherished memories I have.
We all have that same choice to show up and choose our own power in every moment.
Dad taught me that we are not defined by our situations. We are defined by our choices, which are ultimately ours and ours alone to make. Nothing can take that power away from us.
Lesson #3: Our human bodies are healing machines.
They cut open Dad’s skull twice to remove his large brain tumors. Those brain surgeries ultimately damaged his motor cortex so badly that he was left completely paralyzed on the entire left size of his body. “Peter, you may never move again.” At least, that’s what the doctors told him post-operation.
He did move though.
In 1 year Dad was walking around our house with a cane.
In 2 years Dad was slowly moving his formerly paralyzed left arm.
In 3 years Dad was playing catch with me in our backyard.
I still remember the sting in the palm of my baseball mitt the first time Dad whizzed a fast-ball across the yard. It was a magical moment for both of us. Playing catch with Dad taught me from a very young age to always trust in the wisdom of our bodies to heal and regenerate. Our bodies are infinitely more powerful than we give them credit for, and I believe Dad’s internal wellness was one of the greatest keys to his external healing.
I fell in love with watching Dad’s healing journey. He was and still is my superhero. And speaking of love…
Lesson #4: Self-love is the bedrock of our wellness.
This is perhaps the most import of the five lessons Dad taught me. Love, much like wellness, is not physical. Love is ethereal, spiritual, and energetic. You can’t sift love through your fingers, but it’s more real than any sand I’ve ever held.
Growing up, I remember seeing how my Dad and Mom looked at each other. Mom didn’t see sickness and weakness because that wasn’t the look in my Dad’s eyes. The love I saw in between my parents’ gazes was as healthy as anything I may ever see in my lifetime. And it has taken me nearly two decades to understand this infinitely powerful lesson - the love I saw between my parents all stemmed from the love my Dad had for himself.
Dad’s love for Mom stemmed from his radical self-acceptance of his body and life - in this very state and moment. Above all, I learned from my father that we don’t need to be “physically fixed” to love ourselves. Our bodies can always use a little extra tune-up. However, love - the wellness that fuels our life engines - is not mechanical. Love is fluid and dynamic. Love is always ours to refill, refuel, and reignite in every moment.
Lesson #5: We’re all dying, and death is perhaps the single best “invention” of life.
We can take the best vitamins in the world, exercise regularly to strengthen our bodies, and nourish our minds with the finest information – yet, in spite of all that effort, you and I are still dying right now. Our bodies will eventually break down. Death is simply programmed into our finite human genome.
Through his approach to the end of life Dad taught me to make peace with my death. Even more, Dad taught me that death is something we should even learn to love. I think Steve Jobs said it best in his 2005 commencement speech at Stanford University: “Death is very likely the single best invention of life.”
This is pure genius. Our certain death is what makes this uncertain life experience so magical. Death adds a sense of expediency to our lives to live fully, to enjoy our vibrant health, to explore the world, to suck the organic marrow out of life and, above all, to find our true wellness.
My Dad realized he was dying in his 30s – much sooner than most of us are blessed to - and he lived so fully in his final years because of that realization. I believe that passion for living a full and rich life is something we can all capture – without a cancer diagnosis.
My closing thoughts…
I am eternally grateful for all the lessons Dad taught me during his 42 years here on earth. I’m especially grateful for the lessons he continues to teach me two decades later. Dad, I’m incredibly proud to be your son. I will always remember your slightly crooked, one-sided smile. That grin of yours had so much strength etched into every crease and wrinkle.
To all the fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters who have stumbled here to read this memoir today, I am deeply grateful our paths mysteriously crossed. Cherish your health, cherish those you deeply love and above all, find your true wellness. It’s your unbreakable rock through all the challenges in life. I believe that right now is the perfect moment for each of us to step into greater health and wellness - no matter where we're at right now or how far we've drifted.
If these lessons touched you please share them with someone special you love.
Anthony M. Balduzzi
Head Trainer, The Fit Father Project
Son of Peter A. Balduzzi
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