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"One Year Later": What Cancer Taught Me About Leadership

Most of what I write here is about other people’s stories. This one is mine. I’m not someone who likes talking about himself, and I went back and forth on sharing it. But this past year taught me things about leadership I don’t think I could have learned any other way. And if one person reads this and goes to get checked, it’s worth it.

What happened

A year ago, I had severe back pain. I figured it was a kidney stone, so I went to the emergency department expecting to hear that and go home. They did a CT scan. It showed a mass about the size of a grapefruit. I was diagnosed with testicular cancer.

In our line of work, we’re the ones people call when things go wrong. We’re supposed to have the answers. That day, I didn’t have any. I was the one who needed help instead of the one giving it.

Then came chemo. I’ll be honest: chemo sucked. There’s no nicer way to say it. But I was blessed. My doctors were aggressive about treating the side effects, and as hard as it was, I know it could have been a lot worse. A lot of people have it much harder than I did.

What carried me through was prayer, and knowing that God only gives us what we can handle. I wasn’t praying alone, either. So many people told me they were praying for me, and I could feel it, even on the days I couldn’t see anyone.

In the middle of all of it, my daughter was born on November 18. If you want a fast lesson in what matters, holding a brand new baby girl while you’re going through chemo will do it.

I couldn’t have done any of it without my wife. She took care of the baby. She slept in the spare bedroom so the baby wouldn’t wake me. She put a camera in our room so she could check on me without disturbing me. She cooked and made sure I stayed fed and hydrated. Looking back, she was leading the whole time. She saw what I needed before I asked, took things off my plate without being asked, and never needed any credit for it. That’s the kind of quiet care I want to bring to my own people.

The people I work for showed up

While all of that was going on, the people I work for showed up for me. Not with a policy. Not with a form. With presence. A call. A message. Asking how I was really doing, and waiting for the answer.

On my first day back, my first meeting was with our COO and my boss. Before we got into anything else, our COO hugged me, asked how I was doing, and told me she was praying for me. No speech. No agenda. I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life.

After the meeting, my boss did something I didn’t expect. He sent me home. He could see I was tired, and that it was too much, too soon. I wanted to prove I was fine. He looked past what I was saying, paid attention to what he was seeing, and made the call I wasn’t ready to make for myself.

If I’m honest, I’m not sure I would have done the same in his position. I might have said, “Glad you’re back, let’s get to work,” and meant well. He got it right.

Presence beats policy

Every organization has leave policies, return-to-work procedures and employee assistance programs. Those matter. But nobody remembers the policy. They remember who called. They remember the hug. When one of your people is going through something hard, don’t hand it all off to HR and move on. Show up, check in, and keep checking in. You don’t need the perfect words. Most of the time, “How are you really doing?” is enough.

Read your people, not just their words

Cops and public safety folks are trained to say “I’m good.” We say it at roll call, after bad calls, and when we’re running on empty. My boss didn’t take my word for it. He watched. Good leaders learn to read the person in front of them and trust what they see. If someone looks worn down, they probably are, even if they tell you otherwise.

Sometimes the most caring thing is to send someone home

That feels backwards in our culture. We value toughness, and we reward the people who show up no matter what. But there’s a difference between dedication and damage. Sending someone home isn’t a punishment, and it isn’t a statement that you don’t need them. It says you need them for the long run. That one decision told me more about how much I was valued than any speech could have.

The whole person comes to work

Nobody leaves their life in the parking lot. Going through cancer while welcoming my daughter made that real for me in a way it never was before. Family matters even more to me now, and it’s changed how I look at my own people. I pay more attention to whether my officers are actually taking their time off, not just banking it. And when someone is having a rough stretch at work, there’s a good chance something is going on at home. That’s not weakness. That’s being human.

A few things you can do this week:

• Reach out personally. If someone on your team is dealing with an illness, a new baby or a family crisis, don’t wait for them to come to you.
• Make the first conversation about them. When someone comes back from time away, start with how they’re doing, not the backlog.
• Look at leave balances. If someone hasn’t taken time off in a long time, ask why.
• Ask yourself honestly: would you know if one of your people was running on empty?

Please don’t ignore symptoms

I want to speak directly to the men reading this. We’re good at ignoring things. We tell ourselves it’s nothing, a pulled muscle, it’ll go away. I thought I had a kidney stone.

If something doesn’t feel right, if you notice a change, or if something hurts and isn’t getting better, go see your doctor. Keep up with your regular checkups, even when you feel fine and even when you’re busy. And leaders, give your people room to go. Make it normal on your team to take time for an appointment. Getting checked out isn’t weakness. It might be the most important call you make.

Rank is earned. Leadership is demonstrated.

A year ago, I learned what it feels like to be on the other side of leadership, the side that needs support instead of giving it. The leaders who helped me didn’t do anything complicated. They showed up, they paid attention, and they cared enough to send me home.

I’m grateful for them and for my doctors, for everyone who prayed for me, and to God for carrying me through. I’m grateful for my daughter, and for my wife, who carried more than anyone will ever know. Most of all, I’m grateful to still be here, still learning how to lead a little better every day.

If this meant something to you, share it with someone on your team, or with someone who needs to make that doctor’s appointment.