The conference sessions were informative, the keynote presentations by HHS Secretary Kathleen Sibelius and former Labor Secretary Robert Reich were visionary, and it was great to meet people who are starting to see CompTIA in a new light—“Oh yeah, the A+ guys. You’re in healthcare IT? Cool!” Like I said, I think we’re on the right track here.
Actor Michael J. FoxSheer inspiration at the conference came from the close-out keynote by actor Michael J. Fox, whose work now centers on his foundation that studies the cause and cure for Parkinson’s disease. Adding to his #1 best-seller Lucky Man, he has just released a new book entitled Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist. The place was packed on the last day of a long conference, so you could tell folks wanted to hear this man speak.
And Fox did not disappoint. He spoke for almost an hour, and at the end he endured a number of questions from the crowd, his patience and gratitude lasting longer than his medications. The trembling and slight slur in the speech were obvious, and got more pronounced as he spoke to the rapt attendees. He spoke of his career, coming to grips with the diagnosis of Parkinson’s (after five medical opinions), and how his outlook on life had been transformed. He spoke about a secret to being a good actor, how the actor is not supposed to appear to know how the story ends. If there is a pie in the face, he is not supposed to flinch—that is, he can’t “play the outcome”.
With respect to Parkinson’s, the advice was the same—“don’t play the outcome”. Even though he faces a wasting disease with no cure, and a particularly tough way to die, his advice to all of us was to never “play the outcome” of life—to treat each new day as a gift, with new possibilities and with great optimism. While he trembled slightly, Fox’s sense of humor was completely intact (he talked about how many kids still ask him if they can borrow his “hover board” from Back to the Future). He shared some of the more humorous insights about a disease that normally carries a ten-year death sentence. I summarize:
“I learned to accept Parkinson’s, but I am not resigned to it. Being resigned to it is like agreeing to die.”
“Parkinson’s is the gift that keeps on taking, one little bit at a time, but I am still here.”
“At the turn from our bedroom into the hallway, there is an old full-length mirror in a wooden frame. I can’t help but catch a glimpse of myself as I pass. Turning fully toward the glass, I consider what I see. The reflected version of myself, wet, shaking, rumpled, pinched, and slightly stooped, would be alarming were it not for the self-satisfied expression pasted across my face. I would ask the obvious question, ‘what are you smiling about?’ but I already know the answer: “It just gets better from here.”
I wept like a child when I heard his words, but I wasn’t the only one. Whatever problems and challenges we face trying to keep our networks running, our projects humming, and our families together and loving, they are nothing like what this guy faces every day. His attitude in the midst of Parkinson’s challenged my own view of the obstacles in my life, and in keeping a positive view on things.
His foundation is doing some innovative things to try to fast-track the pace in developing and testing possible cures for this disease. The medical professionals in the audience—doctors, nurses, specialists and techies—saluted his courage and bravery, and they shared how it made their own medical service more rewarding.
My wife and I recently lost a favorite uncle to Parkinson’s, and during the final months of his hospice care, his indomitable spirit and sense of humor kept us together as we all waited for what we all knew would come. He never played the outcome—he lived 13 years after his diagnosis, and until the end was full of hope and grace. I had not heard words like that in a while—but I sure heard them this week.
