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Monday was my 17-year sober anniversary. I say this every year but… what a ride it has been.
I try to take a moment at the end of every year sober and reflect upon the previous year—what did I specifically make progress on this year? And are there any areas where I stayed the same, or took a step back?
For me, there was a big headline from November 2024 till November 2025—cancer. In March 2024, after a routine colonoscopy, I found out I had rectal and liver cancer, making it Stage 4 cancer. Basically, my ass was falling off.
On the day I was celebrating my 16th anniversary last November, I was coming off a brutal surgery, with three more chemotherapy sessions to go. Then… who knew? Was the cancer gone? That would be the story of my year.
Luckily, the cancer was indeed gone. But I was told, in no uncertain terms, that uncertainty was going to be a part of my life going forward. Cancer tests aren’t like on TV. There’s no definitive yes/no. There are lots of appointments to talk about strange masses that might be fluid, or maybe swelling, or maybe a horrific tumor that will choke the life out of my body… who can say?!?!
But long story short, the tests keep looking good. So as of Tuesday of this week, I am cancer free. And when I look back on the year, and if I made any spiritual progress, I keep coming back to the same word: uncertainty.
When I found out I had cancer, everything I thought I had plans for went out the window. My year shifted toward revolving entirely around a hospital near my house, and everything that my doctors told me to do. My cancer trumped everything. It was like if the earth just completely changed course and begun to orbit a different star.
That meant the ground underneath my feet always was shifting, that I could never quite get my feet under me in just about any aspect of life. I had to go do a will, closely examine my life insurance policy and make adjustments, and have some conversations with people about what I would want if I don’t make it. The only certainty was the uncertainty.
But you know what? I began to accept the uncertainty, and I came to an obvious realization that most people would agree with but never truly accept in their heart: This whole thing is uncertain. The world. The country. The state. The town. My freaking house. Nothing is for sure. I could redo my roof and try to sell my house, then a tree branch falls on it. I might walk out to start my car tomorrow morning and it doesn’t start… or it’s not even there!
When I say that to people, they all nod their heads. They know that’s true, logically, but I don’t think many people truly accept that. If they did, we’d have 90 percent fewer arguments, 90 percent less middle fingers on the roads and I think Facebook would just disappear overnight—because when you accept the uncertainty of this world, and that none of us knows for sure that we have tomorrow, then you are able to truly feel what actually matters. And winning an argument about whether Bill Belichick is the best football coach ever suddenly doesn’t occupy a half hour of your day.
But accepting uncertainty is easier said than done. I need to surround myself with people who live that way, and thankfully, I have so many sober friends that treat their disease as a one-day-at-a-time, 24-hour reprieve from substance abuse and that has now spread into their entire worldview. That has become infectious for me, and I very rarely find myself saying so many things that other people struggle with… have I saved enough money? What will I do if I lose my job? What happens if my kid gets sick? What if I get sick? What happens when we die? If there is a heaven, will I be in it?!?!
I’m pretty at ease with all of that stuff, because I have people in my life who constantly remind me to not live in the wreckage of the future. That is a big deal—I need people who won’t put up with unproductive negative thinking—and I feel like I made major strides this past year when it comes to accepting the uncertainty of the world around me.
And yes, that even includes if my ass starts to fall off again!
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
You know you’re a recovering alcoholic if:
--1: Emails from your friends say HALT in the subject header.
--2: Your idea of a smooth opening line is “I really liked what you shared.”
--3: You don’t know the last names of most of your friends.
(Credit: AA Grapevine, July 2001, Anonymous)
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