Simple Gesture...Profound Impact

On the day I went to my mailbox and pulled the large white envelope from it, one of my first utterances was to say out loud to my cats, “Who does this kind of thing anymore? Actually makes an effort to reach out in a completely unsolicited way to a complete stranger?”

Several days ago, I received an unexpected package in the mail from Allstate Benefits. Everyone is probably familiar with the “goods hands” company. For many years, they have partnered with my employer to provide supplemental benefits in the form of accident and critical illness insurance. As I’ve grown older and began experiencing some of the common ailments that come with age, like degenerative disc disease and osteoarthritis, I decided that it was in my best interest to take advantage of these benefits, particularly because they were affordable. Of course, I hoped I would never need either of them.

When I learned of my multiple myeloma diagnosis, my first course of action was to research as much as I could about it. In the process, I learned from one of my first cousins that his brother, a cousin the same age as I am, had died from multiple myeloma, but he had underlying health issues that prevented him from qualifying for a stem cell transplant. Fortunately, my prognosis was more promising, in part because we caught mine at Stage 1, and because I am otherwise healthy. Nevertheless, the treatment regimen has proved challenging for me, particularly the mental stress, physiological responses to the chemotherapy and other drugs, the fatigue, resulting neuropathy, and the roller-coaster emotions that manifest themselves in sometimes vicious attacks on my loved ones. I have considered telling you more about some of those episodes, but contemplating describing them to you with complete transparency fills me with shame. I can tell you that I have moments so out-of-control that a visit from the men in white coats would not be unwarranted.

On the day I went to my mailbox and pulled the large white envelope from it, I was puzzled. What would Allstate be sending me?, I wondered. It felt like a book, and I immediately assumed it was a manual of some kind associated with my policy and coverage. When I opened the package back at my desk, saw the title of the book, and read the letter that accompanied it, to say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. One of my first utterances about the book was to say out loud to my cats, “Who does this kind of thing anymore? Actually makes an effort to reach out in a completely unsolicited way to a complete stranger?”

Please take a moment to read the letter from Allstate Benefits President, Michael G. DeKoning:

As I read the letter the first time, I slowly lowered myself onto the edge of my recliner and absorbed the warm message from Mr. DeKoning, and I began to consider the profound significance of even small gestures like this one. It brought to mind some of my responsibilities as a Walmart manager concerning associates who were on leaves of absence. One of those responsibilities that I have always taken very seriously is to contact each associate that I supervise at least one time per month. Not only is it policy (or at least it was), it’s meant to be a touch-base type call to check in with them, learn how they are doing and if there is anything they need that the company might be able to help with. It also serves to assure them they haven’t been forgotten, and we care about them.

As of 15 May, I will have 15 years under my belt as a Walmart manager. I have been at my current store since October 2016. Since taking leave last October in order to focus on my treatment and attaining remission, I have been so thankful for the short- and long-term benefits for which I have paid premiums over the years and can now use as I continue to undergo five-hour intravenous chemotherapy once per week and an injected chemo twice per week in 21-day cycles in preparation for a stem cell transplant hopefully next month. Since last November, in addition to the chemo, I have undergone two bone marrow biopsies, the implanting of a medical port in my chest on Good Friday in order to facilitate the delivery of my chemo more easily, and I will undergo a third bone marrow biopsy on 21 April.

The last time I heard from one of my managers was in a text message, I believe, last January or February.

Some of them will no doubt say, “There she goes again, throwing her management under the bus.” If that’s the way they see it, that’s fine. Whether I am less inhibited due to the influences of some of the drugs circulating through my system, or if it’s just in keeping with my reputation to be plainspoken, I have simply stated the truth, and that can be a painful thing sometimes. I’m no saint, but in both my personal and professional life, I have always endeavored to exercise personal accountability and do the right thing. No doubt this is one reason why Mr. DeKoning’s gift of Chicken Soup for the Soul – The Cancer Book resonated with me in such a meaningful way.

I sent an email to Mr. DeKoning expressing my sincere thanks for his gift. A few days later, he responded personally, writing, “First of all, thank you for taking the time to write such a wonderful, personal and heartfelt note. I cannot say how many times I have come back to it this week; to smile, to reflect and to think about how to thank you for warming my heart.”

Once again, I was blown away that a high-level executive would take the time to write to me yet again.

I look forward to reading the book. Someday soon, I hope my own story might grow to become even a fraction as highly esteemed as the Chicken Soup for the Soul series is.