A Simple Man Embracing the Knowing of the Unknown I’ve spent the first sixty years of my life chasing dreams. One after another, I pursued them with relentless energy, yet I always seemed to wake up before the finale. Some dreams felt so close I could almost touch them, while others lingered just out of reach. Along the way, there were incredible moments of triumph and deep pools of regret. Some dreams are still unfolding, while others came to an abrupt end. Now, as I write these words, I find myself in the midst of my latest dream—a dream I fully intend to see through to the end. On September 10, 2024, everything changed. That day found me sitting in a doctor’s office, only the eighth or ninth time I’d done so since my twenties. Half of those visits happened in the last month, prompted by some concerning blood test results. After weeks of tests, I expected a simple explanation—a quick fix, a prescription, and a plan to get back to normal. When the doctor entered, flanked by two other women, I assumed they were trainees or observers. I didn’t give it much thought. But what came next was nothing I could have anticipated. I was told I had stage four prostate cancer. Just like that. No easing into it, no sugarcoating. The doctor immediately began explaining treatment plans and possible outcomes, telling me to return the next week to begin. When he finished, he asked if I had any questions. I didn’t. I shook his hand, left the room, and rode the elevator down to the parking lot. That’s when it hit me. I had just been told I was going to die sooner rather than later. My entire existence changed in an instant, but not in the way you might think. By the time I reached my car, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. There was no fear, no panic, no overwhelming dread—just an unshakable calm. I knew, for the first time in my life, that the unknown was coming. And strangely, I was okay with it. Driving home, I made the necessary calls to my wife and parents, but breaking the news to my kids—that was the real struggle. Facing the Truth, Brick by Brick In the days that followed, emotions I had buried for decades began surfacing. I’d spent years hiding behind a carefully constructed image of who I thought I needed to be. But now, I could no longer hold back. For the first time, I felt free—free to embrace the truth of my existence, free to be who I truly was. Yes, I’m fighting this cancer with everything I have. I want to live as long as possible, but I am strangely at peace with what lies ahead. I am no longer afraid of death. In fact, I’m looking forward to meeting "Penthouse Dude"—a figure of comfort I’ve imagined waiting for me in the great beyond. Why share all this? Good question. About a month into my diagnosis, I realized my old routines—getting up every morning and heading to work—were over. Physically, I just couldn’t do it. The days grew long and monotonous, and the pain in my legs and back was a constant reminder of my situation. One day, sitting in front of my computer, I opened a blank Word document and started typing. I didn’t know what I was writing or why, but for two hours, I lost myself in the process. When I finished, I had a raw, unfiltered account of my diagnosis and how I felt about it. I posted it on Facebook and walked away. To my surprise, that post resonated with people. Support came pouring in, and for those two hours of writing, I didn’t feel the pain. So, I kept writing. Every day, I’d sit down and let the words flow, sharing my journey and my thoughts on life. The aches and boredom faded as I found a new sense of purpose. Living the Dream That’s when I realized: I’m in the middle of my last great dream. This dream isn’t about wealth or success or accolades. It’s about tearing down the walls I built around myself and encouraging others to do the same. For too long, I lived behind a façade, hiding parts of myself to fit some imagined ideal. But not anymore. My goal now is simple: to share my journey, to help someone else take down their first brick, and to see where this dream leads. This dream as well has no finale. It will shift and evolve, and I’ll keep chasing it until my very last breath. If you’re reading this, I invite you to join me. Let’s dream together and see where this road takes us.