Cancer.

I don’t know how your Monday was, but this was Karl’s: He’d coached the Nuggets to a 12-point win over Portland the night before. Didn’t hit the sack until 1. Got up at 5. Was at the hospital by 6. Had surgery at 6:30 to put in the stomach tube that, coming soon, will be the only way he’ll eat. Out of surgery at 7. Radiation at 8. Home by 10. Nap. Then started working on preparing for the Minnesota game.

His doctors have called his cancer “treatable,” but as a prostate cancer survivor from 2005, he knows there’s no guaranteed contract with the dragon. Still, he refuses to play the victim card. “Nothing I do is painful,” he tells the press.

via Rick Reilly: George vs. The Dragon – ESPN.

I actually talked with George Karl for about thirty seconds. It was at All-Star Weekend and I wanted to ask him about his son, Coby, and his continued pursuit of an NBA job in the D-League. It was a thirty second encounter, so I promise I’m not going to make too much of it, only to say that seeing a 25-year NBA head coach’s eyes light up when asked about his son was something remarkable and memorable for me. He also could have given me a two word answer and moved on, but he was gracious, considerate, and polite.

The article above is about Karl, but it’s also about something else. It’s about cancer. You probably know someone who’s had it. My mom has had it. She was diagnosed almost a year ago with breast cancer. The day I found out I felt like I was walking around after a bomb had fallen. I was in shock. I went to the grocery store and stared at a cereal box for about five minutes before a lady asked me if I was okay. Trying to understand that fear is something I’ll never forget. It’s so big, so enormous. Death can take a lot of forms: quick and threshing, soft and painless, sudden and cruel. But to me, cancer just seemed like this massive thing against which I could not begin to understand its enormity, only the extreme likelihood of it crushing me.  And I wasn’t even the one that had it.

Luckily, my mom is quite the scrapper, my father the vigilant husband obsessed with doctor’s appointments, and my family not one of the millions that face each day without health insurance. She was supported, educated, and determined. More than anything she was brave in a way I could not understand or expect. It was, if you only look at the basic facts, not a big deal. Got cancer,got treatment, beat it, and a year later, went to the beach.

But the shadow the diagnosis left remains with me, and it left a mark on my mother as well, long after the scars have faded. For her, survival is a badge of pride that comes with a responsibility: to share with others so they will understand that the fight isn’t over before they ring the bell. For me, it was a window into the fragility of our health as beings, and a reminder to hold on to those moments that matter. Writing that does in fact cause the gag reflex it’s likely causing in you, but some cliches seem to gain more relevance as you get older. (Note: “Hand down, man down” does not.)

You’ve likely had your own experience, your own brush with this thing that takes, shapes, and ruins so many lives. But no matter what your experiences are, please read Reilly’s segment with George Karl. Karl could have hid away during his treatment. God knows I would have. But he’s stronger than that. Not only is he trying to work in one of the most difficult jobs possible before you start to consider the drain on his health, but he’s allowing people access, so they can see, so they can be inspired, so that maybe changes will come as a result of understanding what he’s going through.

It’s difficult to not get emotional when you see TNT or ESPN footage of players coming to hug Karl, to shake his hand, to give him encouragement. It’s difficult for me not to remember the cards and letters sent to my mom, and the phone calls from friends to me when word got around. It’s a uniquely human experience that can work to bind us, and if you want basketball relevance, it could be a wild card that binds the Nuggets together in a way no other team has. Ubuntu’s got nothing on a cancer survivor.

And at the end of the day, when Karl beats this thing, and we’re back to writing snarky lines about his inability to effectively draw up a double-team on Kobe, we may forget about this ordeal. But if sharing his story makes an impact the way it should, that’s a bigger win than anything that can happen on the floor.

Please read the article and share it.

P.S. If you’re wondering if I totally used my mom’s cancer to con Paroxi-Wife into doing chores for me, I very much did so. And then paid the price.