The third an final post of this series, we continue discussing the mental toughness that two exemplary people showed in their perseverance in life. If you missed part one, we chronicled Ken; Stephanie in part two. Now it’s my time to tell my side of the story.
Inspirations that compel me to drive on and thrive.
The Early days.
Ken and I were best buddies, inseparable when we were very young. Ken was nearly 19 months older than me, so naturally I looked up to him. We were outdoors all the time, rain, snow or shine. Too young for television, and computers, cell phones and all the other virtual distractions that were pretty much scarce or non-existent back then.
Ken entered public school before me. My best buddy left, then our friendship and closeness changed as we grew and developed our own circles of friends over time. By middle school, we weren’t buddies any more. By high school, we were anything but buddies. Some of the best fisticuffs I got into were with him. Mother would plead us to take it outside so we didn’t damage any furniture in the house. Still proud of one tussle where I caught him with an upper cut, sending him to the ground on his back, after which he drove me to hockey practice as he said he would.
Early-to-mid Seventies.
We lived in the same dormitory at U Mass Amherst, separated by 3 floors, seldom spending time together except to travel home to Natick and visit the family. He was a good student, Mechanical Engineering major. Always studying. I was a ‘social studies’ major, socializing with my buddies and girlfriend while occasionally cracking the books. He finished his major and went to work for General Electric. I dropped out after 2 years and drifted north to Vermont, then joined the Navy.
My relationship with Ken over the years had evolved from best buddy, to tag-along (me), to not friends, to enemies who tolerated each other if no one else was around. And yet, I realized I was jealous and envious of his abilities. He was smart, determined, a good athlete and musician. Saved money and bought a car after getting his license. Tuned the car himself and took care of it meticulously. I was reasonably smart, not so determined, an average athlete, and a good musician through high school. Borrowed my dad’s car if I asked nicely and kept it clean, otherwise rode my bicycle most places if I didn’t get a flat I’d reluctantly ask Ken to help me change.
Late Seventies to Early Eighties.
We truly lived separate lives when I joined the Navy to learn a trade and ended up becoming a SEAL. Ken was a field engineer by then, working all over the country and overseas. I hardly knew him anymore. Then it was 1980 when he came home to Massachusetts and learned he had Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML), a rare type of cancer of the blood and bone marrow which progresses rapidly and disrupts production of normal blood cells and platelets. Both our lives had changed significantly, his for the worse after so many years of success. I was stunned. He was shocked and scared.
I visited him in hospital as he underwent chemotherapy. He was pale and weak, couldn’t keep food down. I was horrified and saddened by his condition and his prognosis. Chemotherapy provided some form of remission for roughly 4 of 10 adults diagnosed with AML. He stayed in hospital for 2-3 rounds of chemo, and it didn’t work. He stopped treatments and moved on with his life as best he could, surviving on a careful diet, blood transfusions, and antibiotics.
Roughly a year after his diagnosis and treatments, Ken’s siblings – all 6 of us – were tested for bone marrow compatibility. An autologous transplant – using his own marrow – had failed. This was my chance to help my former best buddy that I always looked up to. I was sure I’d be a match, and now it was my turn to be his hero by saving his life. Neither I nor my brothers or sister were a match. Despite our collective disappointment, Ken lived his life to the fullest, and thrived until 1983 when he succumbed to complications resulting from AML.
Early Nineties.
Ken’s life and legacy were a distant memory. I was an instructor at the Navy’s Survival Evasion Resistance Escape (SERE) School and on base when I noticed a poster announcing ‘Be the match.’ Report to the base medical clinic to test and register for the National Marrow Donor Program (NMDP). Save a life by donating bone marrow to another in need. I was awestruck, and followed through. In 1992, doctors in Bethesda, Maryland harvested my bone marrow which was whisked away overnight to an unknown recipient somewhere else.
NMDP’s legacy is twofold. First, it provides you the opportunity to save another’s life. Transplants are miracles when your healthy marrow is transplanted into another in need, accepted, then enables the recipient to reproduce on his or her own. Second, it connects donors and recipients, providing them the opportunity to meet one another face-to-face if the transplant is a success.
In 1993, I met Stephanie Rudat, all smiles and healthy, proud sister and parents by her side. She was only 6 weeks old in March 1992 when diagnosed with AML, the same leukemia Ken had. AML is rare, but it’s even more rare in toddlers. There before me was the gift of life I so wanted to provide Ken, and had the privilege to provide her. It was a positive ‘pay forward’ in Ken’s memory, and a wonderful opportunity for Stephanie and me to bond and get to know each other.
Like Ken, Stephanie’s short chronological life was in fact long and full. School, friends, sports. Work, ambitions, the future. College, a planned profession in nursing. And on in on. Two legacies who give me pause for reflection. Mentally tough. Resilient. Two champions that I am incredibly honored to have known in my life. Heroes whose lives changed mine, forever.
About Elemental Edge Training
Founded by former Navy SEAL Bill Atkinson, Elemental Edge Training offers highly organized, fast-paced half, full and three day workshops that enhance your ability to lead, follow, communicate and participate as an individual and on a team. Lectures, discussions and practicals, and a rapid fire “Plan-brief-execute-debrief” format hammer home why you’re here and what you must change to improve your personal and professional life. We also teach you a Navy SEAL mindset approach that’s a game changer for you and your team and includes direct and immediate feedback, along with “report card” to take home round out the experience, give pause for reflection, and inspire further change.
