Hey, friend -

In April of 2015, my father was diagnosed with Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS). It's sort of like pre-leukemia.

Over time, his MDS progressed into actual leukemia, and it became clear that sooner or later, without some sort of intervention, he would develop Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML)—a particularly ruthless form of the disease.

In my dad’s case, the intervention was determined to be a stem cell transplant.

In the days leading up to dad's transplant, his medical team used a chemical cocktail to prepare his immune system to receive a donor's stem cells.

And by "prepare" I mean "eviscerated." He gained mouth sores, skin lesions, and bowel trouble. He lost his get-up-and-go, his hair, his sense of smell, and his sense of humor (which was admittedly scant to begin with).

I spent a lot of time at the hospital with dad that week, watching home improvement shows and walking slow laps around the transplantation unit.

On our 7th lap one day, dad abruptly stopped, turned to me, and said, "Don't wait, Kell."

"What are you talking about?"

"I always meant to drive Going-to-the-Sun Road. Now it's too late for me. So just... don't wait."

Soon after, I booked a bucket-list adventure: Hiking Yosemite's Half Dome. It'd been a "someday" trip forever, and dad's words were the permission I needed. I was done waiting.

(Yes, that's me in the bottom right photo, standing WAY above the valley floor.
And I'd do it again tomorrow.)

Pep Talk #030: Don't wait.
This isn't meant to be a "life is short, so make the most of it" sap-fast. It's meant to be more of a "You know what you wanna do, so just go ahead and do it, for crying out loud."

Obviously, I don't know what you've been putting off: taking cello lessons, initiating a hard conversation, writing your novel, having a baby, proposing to your person, leaving your spouse or partner, offering a new service, quitting your business entirely, becoming a sommelier, running for office, reconciling with an estranged family member, going back to school, coming out to your parents, buying a house, opening a bookstore (oh wait, that's mine).

Your Thing might be relatively small so you can do it NOW, or it might be something kinda big so doing it now would, you know, blow up your whole life. In that case, just start, OK? Take inspired action, every day. Don't wait. Don't wait. Don't wait.

Following his transplant, dad enjoyed 266 days in remission before his disease came roaring back. Diagnosis: AML. Thanks to a clinical trial, we got to keep him for another 331 days. They were miserable days, heavy with regret.

My dad taught me a lot of lessons, and our relationship was fraught. But I'll be forever grateful for "Don't wait."

Get moving, friend -

Kelley

P.S What have you been putting off? Anything? I'd love to cheer you on. Hit reply and let me know what you're up to.