writing | kenisms

One More Trip Down the Rabbit Hole

I know that I made a promise that I was done blogging about my cancer trip. However, it seems I need to make at least one more visit to the rabbit hole. If you are needing to catch up or just looking for a recap, my cancer was diagnosed back in October of 2025. In the ensuing ten months, I have visited the UW Health clinic so many times and so consistently that I was considering having my mail delivered there. That is, the stuff that isn’t just the recyclable junk kind.

With a seemingly endless array of doctors and specialists, there was no end to the number of referrals made over that period of time. Today, I met with one more of my doctors. This doctor is one that has been with me for a number of years and has been the one in charge of keeping my arthritis at bay. As we wrapped up my annual appointment, she turned to me and brought up one of the many nagging side effects of the cancer. She explained how she could make a referral to a specialist for treatment and asked if I was interested. In my moment of hesitation, she suddenly did an about face and surprised me with a completely unexpected referral. She decided that what I needed was a break. No more doctor referrals until I was ready. Her prescription for me was to get away. To treat myself and my wife to a trip to anywhere, as long as it meant we got away.

In that moment, she had made the one referral I had truly wanted. She had acknowledged that this was my journey, and in so doing, had given me the opportunity to choose my own path. As I got up to leave, she asked if she could walk out with me. As we arrived at the waiting area, she turned me toward her, thrust her arms forward, and gave me the most healing hug of this long journey I have been on. As the hug continued, she softly said, “I followed your protocol all these months and am so relieved that you have survived.”

Please be assured that I have both appreciated and liked all of the doctors whom I have seen and been seen by. I respect their professionalism and their incredible skill. I thank the UW Health System for providing such a remarkable team. While at times, they all had shown glimpses of this doctor’s incredible empathy, she had just risen a little further above. While practicing her skill, she had not lost sight of the patient. She had recognized the need to not only to heal the physical, she had addressed my emotional need to heal. In that moment of hesitation, she had set aside the protocol and made a diagnosis that could have so easily been missed.

Today, maybe for the first time, I felt a sense of relief, a feeling that maybe I was beginning to regain normal. And, as we drove home, I finally felt a true sense of healing. It is for the healing, it is because I have survived, it is for all the professionals and the care they provided, but especially, it is for Dr Sharkey, that this story needed to be told. Thanks to the fact that I am still standing, I get to be the one to tell it.

Don’t Let The Sun Set on Your Relationships

Posted on June 28 by kwundrow

I received a message request yesterday. The name on the request took me by surprise. It was coming from the wife of an old, colleague of mine. Two thoughts immediately crossed my mind. One, had something happened to him and she was letting me know, or two, was this someone fishing for my information. I will admit that my internet wariness radar made me fear that it was the later. Still, we had been the best of friends and I had lost all touch with him when we had both switched career directions all those years ago. In fact it had been over forty years since we had communicated and I desperately wanted the message request to be legitimate. I made a decision to extend the conversation. My cautious reply provided my cell phone number and a little fishing expedition of my own. I asked if he remembered that first day we met. I hit send and almost at once, my cell phone rang. The caller ID showed the call as coming from my long lost friend. Over the next hour, the forty years that had separated us dropped away.

I have formed many relationships in my life. Some were with people I worked with. Others sprang from the different social networks I had been part of. Many were with clients I served. Some were casual and harder to keep as time and circumstances changed. But it was those that formed around shared experiences, people I met while traveling, through church, or the daily grind I shared with co-workers. Vacations end, churches change, careers shift. Relationships take work to maintain and when those breaks would come, it was easy to promise we would stay in touch but time and distance made it difficult. Jim and I had formed a work relationship through our shared experience as teachers in a small northern school district. When our teaching careers took us to different school districts, states apart, we made the promise to stay in touch. For a year or two we found the time to keep that promise, but as our families grew and new work relationships developed, well, you know what happened. Countless times I had promised myself that I would find Jim’s information and reconnect. I would find the time and plan a visit. But, as the years passed, so did my commitment to that task. Instead, I just mixed grief with guilt and moved on. If Jill hadn’t found the courage to reach out and bring the two of us into a conversation, that is exactly where the story would have ended.

When relationships end, we can blame circumstances seemingly beyond our control. We can claim there wasn’t enough time or the distance too great. We can spend time wishing that the other person will reach out. We can choose to just move on. But if the relationship was truly important, we cannot let that be the end of the story. We need to rise above the excuses and take action. Time can be overcome. The distance can still be covered. But, we need to make the first move. I learned or maybe relearned that lesson yesterday. I wish it had been me with the courage to reach out, but sadly that wasn’t the case. Thankfully Jill had that courage and because of that call the four of us are now planning to meet half way for a day of reminiscing and catching up.

Consider that friend or relative you find yourself wondering about. Where are they now? What are they doing and what might have they accomplished? Don’t let the sun set on that relationship. Be the one to reach out. They just might have been waiting for you to call.

Grownup Questions

Posted on February 1 by kwundrow

I will be turning seventy-five later this month and it seems pretty monumental to me. I’ve accepted it and I’m not fighting my age, it just seems like such a long span of time. Thanks to recent events in my life, I find myself looking back more than forward. I know what you’re thinking. If he just survived cancer, shouldn’t he be gratefully looking forward? First off, my decision, and secondly, I find it and my age have made me a little retrospect. I find myself thinking about the journey, about what had I done with the time?

At first look, I had at least three successful careers: teacher, tax and investment planner, and public speaker. Along the line I even tried my hand at entrepreneurship. But what had I intended to be? Think of the little kid in you. What were your dreams? How did you answer that question when relatives and yes, teachers, would ask what are you going to be when you grow up? First off, as a kid I needed a definition of what grown up meant. Was that an age or a size? Was it when you could drive, or was it moving to your own place? Mabe having kids? It turns out it’s a pretty sketchy definition all around. I know plenty of people who have passed several of those benchmarks and, in my opinion, still aren’t grown up.

I can tell you that as my twelve-year-old self, my eyes are looking up, WAY up. I was going to be an astronomer. When I was a grown up I would be living in a space city orbiting somewhere between earth and the moon. I had my magazines filled with pictures of thriving cities complete with downtowns and lush parks floating in space. Pretty uphill battle convincing people of that life goal. No, I got the reality message early on. As I was nearing the first benchmark, graduation from high school, Viet Nam was raging and the one thing I DIDN’T want to be was a soldier. No disrespect to any of our vets and especially Viet Nam vets. I just wasn’t cut out for soldiering. Teaching became my grown-up reality, and now I sound like teaching is a fallback profession. Believe me, it isn’t. It takes skill, compassion, and patience, lots of patience.

My point here is that we don’t always end up doing exactly what we thought we would. In fact, do we end up being who we thought we would be when we were finally grown up? I adore my grandkids, all three of them, and whether or not they know it, they adore their Opa. Jackson, mister sophisticated middle schooler at age eleven is the oldest. He loves Minecraft, collecting Pokémon cards, and all things Hamilton. Based on the Minecraft and his very strong math ability, engineer? Pressed on the what will you be when you grow up question, he shocked us all and especially his teacher mother, with gym teacher. Now I have denigrated every gym teacher out there. I guess engineer designing buildings and gym teachers building strong bodies. Then there’s Adela. Adela is eight and loves anything artful. She draws and designs. Oh no, starving artist? Not that all artists starve. And finally, weighing in at two years old, Faye. Though it is still too early to name an exact skill set, she is pretty good at ordering us around. “Opa, you sit here.” or “Opa come here.” or “Opa you play now.” Ironically, half of that in Spanish.

It would be so easy for me as their doting, supportive, grandparent to cubbyhole them into a life career based on what I think would be a good fit, good job, great pay. See where this is going? Our good intentions may be the worst decisions. Jackson might end up being a passionate gym teacher or an engineer, or maybe a music industry engineer. Or Adela, artist or creative designer for a major corporation? And little Faye, tour director or US Ambassador to the Spanish Consulate? The perfect fit is the job that fits them, that fits their passion. It is for them to discover because their future is just that, still in the future.

My twelve-year-old self had big dreams. They were just ahead of their time. Viet Nam steered me to teaching and I was damn good. I was good because it turns out I was passionate about it. If those cities had been there, I am pretty sure I still would have been a teacher, but in space. In my look back I have been reminded of how life works. Left to their devices, kids CAN figure out what they want to be when they are finally “grownups.” As adults looking at our children and grandchildren, we must resist the urge to direct the choice. Instead, let THEM answer the what do you want to be question, even when it’s with a dream.

Now that I have looked back, please know that I do still look to the future. After all, I want to be grown up one day. I’m not sure what that will be, but I’m excited.

My Cancer Journey: The Kindness of Neighbors

Posted on January 3 by kwundrow

We are entering the home stretch. Treatment will be completed next Friday. As this journey has progressed, I have gotten considerably weaker and have continued to struggle finding enough calories. Many friends and family have offered to help in whatever way we need them, but so far, we have managed. But that ended tonight. I watched Deb spend all afternoon packing away the Christmas decorations while I sat on the couch. I decided I needed to help out and would tackle taking down and storing our rather large artificial Christmas tree. I first had to separate the three sections of the tree. That done, I would have to get them back in the large storage box. There they would lie silent, waiting for next Christmas. I managed the separation part, but half way through the packing away, the room gave way. In a heartbeat, a very rapid heart beat, I found myself on my back on the floor. After a few scary moments, we decided it was time to call in one of those offers. Tom and Judy, our neighbors across the street, was one of our options. Deb put out the call and within minutes they were there. Tom took over the job of storing the tree while Judy, a retired nurse took charge of me. Thankfully, my heart settled down, my pulse strengthened and my blood pressure looked good. We made it through this time.

I am so grateful to live in a neighborhood where any of my neighbors would have responded the same. The same holds true for each and every promise to step in whether or not the opportunity arose. It’s knowing you would is all I need. It alone gives me strength to keep going.

We have reached the point in this journey when everything is tough. Where pain is constant, and just trying is an effort. But we will make it. Deb will keep up the advocacy along with her own journal. I will keep trying. Together we will see this to the end. Tonight, without Tom and Judy, I’m not sure how it would have ended. At the very least, my tree would be lying in state in our living room. Three separate pieces trying to be whole. I have learned a valuable lesson, If people want to help, I really should let them.

A Magical Invitation

Posted on November 16 by kwundrow

It had been one of those days. It seemed like every time I got one task completed, the next one fell in my lap. I was leaving a late evening meeting, when she called. I had planned on going home and relaxing, when I saw the missed call from my daughter. My mind ran through the scenarios, ranging from just checking in to needing my help. As my finger poised over the call back option, I entertained letting it go until morning, but could I? The answer to that was I couldn’t, and I called her back.

When she answered, it was obvious she was excited about something. I gathered through her giddiness that she was with my son-in-law and granddaughter in the countryside watching the northern lights. She was inviting me to come join them and strangely, I was considering turning down her invitation. In my defense, I was tired and it was getting late. It would be a thirty-minute drive and I would have to find this field in the middle of nowhere. I had seen northern lights before and this far south, they were never that impressive, at least for me. But she was so insistent, and my decision was made.

It was all of the thirty-minute drive and without GPS, it would have been a task to find them. They were out in a large, recently picked corn field found just off a barely two-lane country road. As I got out of the car, my daughter approached. “They just stopped she proclaimed, but we are hoping they will start back up soon.” Great, I thought, this is going to turn out like all my other efforts to see northern lights. Just then it happened. It was as if someone had suddenly flipped a light switch in a dark room. The sky filled with reds and greens, shimmering and growing brighter with every passing second. There were towers of red streaming straight up like fireworks. Sometimes, the sky was filled with fan-like displays. The reds faded to orange, and then the greens filled in the gaps. It was a mesmerizing display.

I spent over an hour out there in that field. My daughter and granddaughter were at my side. We stared in awe at the night sky. The northern lights display would have been well worth the effort on its own. But, as I stood there with them, it became clear to me what a gift I would have passed up. She was insistent on my coming out. How had I not realized the true reason I had to come out there? This was what every father craves. It was her invitation to join her. The adventure is so important to her that she needs you there to share it with her.

Standing out in a corn field looking up at the night sky was special because I shared it with her. That invitation I almost ignored made the adventure sweeter, made the experience deeper, made the evening memorable. I can only hope that there will be more invitations, more adventures to share. And above all, that I wouldn’t ever fail to accept that invitation when it comes.

	Karen on One More Trip Down the Rabbit…
	ginnyq on My Cancer Journey: Next E…
	Beth on My Cancer Journey: Next E…
	Annette Landsness on Stranger Times
	kwundrow on Life’s Moments

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