“And that has made all the difference” is included in the last stanza of Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken.” I often refer to this line of the poem as it reminds me of my prostate cancer journey. While I thought I had done a pretty good job at living a fulfilling and meaningful life, my prostate cancer journey revealed something otherwise: I wasn’t—at least not up to my full potential and purpose. It was my cancer journey that, well, has made all the difference in my life.

My world was rocked when I was diagnosed with prostate cancer at the age of 48. Married to a wonderful woman and blessed with 2 amazing daughters, both under the age of 5, I could not believe cancer had made its way into my body. I was the guy others would call on to offer prayers and well wishes to those who fell victim to the disease. Never would I have imagined being on the receiving end of prayers and well-wishes extended to me by my friends and family.

How could this happen to me? I thought I did all the right things in life. As a child and adult, I attended church, paid my tithes, and helped people in need. Sure, I did some things most kids do: fed the dog liver, peas, and broccoli under the dinner table when my mom was not watching, rode my bike further than just around the corner as I had been instructed, and bought illegal fireworks with my allowance money. Was I now being punished for all of my bad deeds?

My cancer diagnosis caused me to become deeply introspective. I thought and thought and thought some more. I remember, as a child, visiting the local art museum and staring at the sculpture of Rodin’s “The Thinker” and asking myself, what on earth could be so important to cause a man to think with such intensity? Now I get it. Like The Thinker, I was vigorously thinking and searching for so many answers. I was recalling moments in my life that might have been clues to valuable lessons I was supposed to learn that might have altered future outcomes—namely, not having cancer.

Going through what I call the “looking in the rearview mirror process,” what bothered me most was that I felt I had not lived my life with a sense of urgency and intention. It wasn’t until my first day of undergoing radiation therapy treatment that I experienced a radical mind shift that jump-started my life and charted a new course for how I would live my life post cancer. After being successfully treated for prostate cancer, I vowed to live my life with a fervent spirit and intention. Once I began to focus on living my life with intention, that’s when my life’s purpose was revealed with clarity.

Three questions helped me live my life with intention and, as a result, helped me live a life of purpose after surviving cancer:

The first question forced me to look deep within my soul and list all the attributes that make me the person I am. The second question prompted me to take inventory of my attributes, gifts, and talents. The third question prompted me to review the answers to questions 1 and 2 and then determine how I can make a positive contribution to humankind while being true to myself.

This transformative experience has given me a deeper appreciation for life’s simple pleasures I often took for granted and overlooked, such as the beauty of sunrises and sunsets, the melodious chirping of birds in unison akin to a symphonic overture, and the tranquility found in moments of stillness and silence.

The days of procrastination have dissipated—well, not completely; I have my moments. However, I have a heightened awareness and sense of responsibility in scheduling and completing tasks promptly.

I now embrace the power of saying no. The freedom to say no without justification has allowed me to focus on the purpose-driven projects I say yes to. Additionally, saying no has also provided the social space I need to devote to my family. I must admit, initially, I felt guilty about adopting and implementing this mindset for fear of being perceived as being a bit unsociable.

My faith keeps me humble enough to realize that my purpose is not just about self-enrichment; it’s bigger than me. It drives home the point that there is an important balance that must be maintained between pursuing personal fulfillment and considering the well-being of others.

My time is no longer taken for granted now that I recognize that there is a clock of life that is not visible to any of us. You simply never know when your time is up. Think about it: if we really knew our life’s expiration date, many of us would probably still delay getting things done. Living a life after cancer with purpose gives me a sense of urgency and directs how I spend my time to fully enjoy the human experience.

While I would have hoped the lesson of living a life of purpose could have been gleaned from a broken arm, falling from an apple tree, being hit by a truck, or nearly severing a leg at the knee with a chainsaw (all of which I have experienced), it was cancer that proved to be the lesson that pointed me back in the direction of my purpose. “And that has made all the difference.”

P.S. Dear Cancer, I still abhor your existence.