I am not of steel
I’m sick. No. I’m OK. It’s just a cramp. A stitch. It came so sudden, the onslaught of pain across my abdomen. I was on a bike; on route to my house (my makeshift office) after dropping my daughter at her school. I was enjoying the crisp sunny October morning and stopped for a quick espresso at Čokl, a favorite of mine in Ljubljana. I like Ljubljana. A quiet, quaint Central European capital. Green, clean, and easy to get around on a bicycle. Safer than most EU capitals, which is a major plus for families with young guns. Safety allows our little ones to roam free, alone, which is extremely empowering, and today, unique.
I’m digressing. Or regressing. Avoiding the topic, because it’s painful and awful. The pain in the stomach which I first felt on October 12th continued. It shifted from one side to the other. I started losing my appetite and my enthusiasm for food. I started losing weight. And I looked like shit to myself when looking in the mirror. WTF is going on? Panic was the next thing that arrived. And I finally caved, the strange feeling of unease was not receding, and I sought the help of those smarter than myself — doctors. But it was all over the place initially, the diagnosis. Gallstones, kidney stones, hernia in the groin area. Etcetera.
Then came the ultrasound. Nothing. All fine. Then came the first set of pills — protein enzyme inhibitors, to help with acid reflux. Nothing. No improvements, but also nothing was getting worse. It just was. This new reality. Oh well I thought. It’s going to be a process of elimination until we find the reason why my stomach is acting up. I can be patient I thought. I was wrong.
As things were tried and tests done, and condition still not improving, I started fearing for the worse. Cancer. Could it be? I have to admit. I have a bit of, or a lot of, hypochondriac in me. I panic over health and ailment. But I have my reasons. My father died of colon cancer at the age of 62. My grandmother was operated on stomach cancer. It’s in the family.
I felt like I needed time off to re-center myself, find grounding, and stop myself from spinning out. But I couldn’t, or I felt like I couldn’t. I had a company to run. And the company was hitting some rough patches with our hardware dev. I need to see things trough and close off the year. We raised an additional round of funding. Made stunning progress with our sales initiatives across the b2b market. We had commercial momentum, but we were stalled on the hardware side. Attention to detail and focus on the company was my priority, not my stomach.
Foolish man’s error. The pain was there. And so was the paranoia that was infecting my head. I was in the company, but I wasn’t. My thoughts were scattered. And I found myself doubting myself. Unable to execute and lead with decisiveness. I am sure others felt it. Actually I know they did for they told me so. But I didn’t tell them why. I kept it all inside. I should have taken some distance and explained to those around me why.
Fast forward to today. I finally got the last sets of tests done. My colonoscopy and endoscopy came back a mixed bag. A bunch of errors across the GI track, but nothing catastrophic, yet. Sections of tissue were extracted and sent to pathology for examining. My doctor is calm, tells me that for now, he is not worried, but that my lifestyle and life habits will have to change. I have a chronic situation in my gut which if ignored, will only get worse. And that one day, I may cross the point of no return.
So be warned, my son, he said. “I hear you, loud and clear Doctor,” I replied.
A lot of change is on the horizon, and I am sad, and at the same time excited. Sad because I know there are things, which I enjoy, that I will have to let go. Good food and good wine and beer amongst some. I’ll have to start eating more mindfully, slow down, actually chew my food. And finally, sleep, sleep a lot more. Which is one of the many things I am excited about. I have been meaning to make sleep a priority for sometime. I have been meaning to change my diet, clean up, and green up for sometime. I’ve been vegetarian before, but I let it go.
And why is it that it take a crisis to get my ass in gear. I should know better; I’m in the tracking business. As I said to my freind and business partner Aaron, I was naive about this one. Or is it arrogance perhaps? I had two rules for a healthy life. Exercise religiously, and be picky with what I eat. And nothing else mattered. But it did, even if I enjoyed some good evenings plucked on a stool in a New York cocktail bar.
I also realize that I come from a position of extreme fortune and privilege, having the ability to speak of my ailments as I do, and to address them as I shall. Many, or most, don’t have this opportunity, so I hope I can share some of what follows below also on behalf of them.
As I analyzed my health situation over the past four months, I found myself wanting more closeness, to those I work with; to those I live with; those I parent, and to the one I am, myself. I realized how often we interact and yet, how little we share. How regularly we sit with one another, break bread, but all without scratching an inch under the surface. Conversations are kept aboveboard, in the zone of business. Always thinking of the next big steal, the next viral marketing gimmick, the next software upgrade, and hardware hack. And always avoiding any and all levels of intimacy.
Which as humans we crave and need. We need real connection, especially with those close and closest to us. Connection allows for vulnerability to surface. For us to tell someone that we hurt, physically or otherwise. A tombstone of care — the feeling of knowing you have a community of people around you that give a shit about you.
Our start up culture lacks depth on these issues. We’re building shallow companies, connected and molded on innovation alone. The perks come in the form of game rooms. Chill out zones. Free beer, coffee, and better than shit snack bars. All of this is nice, but none of it is on the human empathy level, that stuff we crave: connectivity, and the safety to feel/be vulnerable. Not to be judged, shamed or worse, dismissed, because we dared to show the world we are not robotic just yet.
And this is why the start up world, much like the corporate world, and the world of professional sport, feels so lonely so often. Why we cry in silence and in darkness.
I don’t pretend I have a magic solution, a way to fix what’s been broken for too long. But I do wish to share this very personal story openly and publicly, with an intent to say, we are not born to be infamous or famous. Always leading, never faltering and never fearing. Quite the opposite. To be human is to be be full of fears, rational and irrational. And despite it all, successes, failures, bad days, good days, we are (I am) here, and I keep showing up because I (we) believe a deeper human connection is possible.
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