Mad as hell at brain tumors and cancer!

I hate brain tumors and cancer! I despise them with such an intense passion!

I just learned that a young man I met in Phoenix last summer has died after his brain cancer returned. A beloved husband, father, son, brother, friend and inspiring speaker. It's not right, it's not fair, it never is.

I attended the funeral of a 60-something woman last fall, a lovely individual who had been kind enough to let me interview her for my upcoming book on coping with brain tumors-brain cancer. Her straight talk was refreshing and thought-provoking. It was a wisdom instilled by her many years as a teacher, a woman who had to overcome some tough obstacles along the way, a mother who worked tirelessly when it was all up to her to care for three daughters.

She was much beloved by family and friends, and it was easy to see why.

I attended the memorial service for a 40-something man earlier this year, a bold, yet gentle soul who emptied his heart to tell me for my book how he was coping with his brain tumors, and what inspired and terrified him. He often minced no words and wasn't ashamed to cry in front of someone who was a total stranger to him until we met on that late summer evening, and I allowed my tears to flow, too. He was gifted and an inspiration to countless legions of fans and admirers.

He was much beloved by family and friends, and it was easy to see why.

And this other young man, the one who just passed away, I met him briefly in Phoenix, and we were going to talk by phone so he could also share his story.

I forgot to call.

I forgot to call.

At that moment, I was also mad as hell at myself for not remembering to contact him. I should have talked to him within a few weeks after we met, while everything was still fresh, while my mind still echoed with his determined words that he was going to beat this because he loved his family, his beautiful wife, and how he was going to be there to watch his kids grow up.

I forgot to call.

And in that moment of sadness and rage I forgot I was human.

When I halted my angry pace from the kitchen to the living room and back again, I knew there were several lessons I had to commit to heart from this experience. I needed to organize the writing of my books in a different way, to develop "priority lists" for interviews and more efficient ways of compiling materials and notes so that I could create more effective volumes that would help other families going through difficult life challenges.

Does that sound selfish? Does that sound trivial? No, my gut tells me it's not because it shows that the positive ripple of this young man's life will continue to create gentle and enduring waves of compassion and awareness for a very, very long time, touching lives he could have never imagined, including mine.

And how truly blessed I am and will always be.