My Next Step (16 page)

Most people mature and change as they get older. Young kids in college start out naïve and idealistic. When you have life experiences, they impact your perception and the palette you draw from, which ultimately changes your perspective and future experiences of the world. My palette became expansive. I always wanted to be a man of many worlds, and I am. I have been a soldier and I have seen combat. I am a husband and father. I have been a policeman. I have been a businessman. I am a philan-thropist, an explorer and adventurer. I have had all of these titles but never once let them define me. These are just pieces of the man, not the whole of who I am.

I can’t tell you why I’m alive. I suspect that part of the reason was the unshakable faith I had—the belief that I could live through anything and that this too would pass. But I don’t really know if it was positive thinking that got me through, or if it was the fact that I was stronger and tougher than anyone else who’d battled this kind of infection. Maybe it was because I’m just that one in a million who got very lucky. Although I’m not a religious man myself, I know that there were many people praying for me. When I found out that Margaret had blessed me with holy water, I later joked with her that I was surprised there weren’t burn marks where she crossed my forehead. We both laughed aloud when I said that!

I’d heard about messages on the RE/MAX Facebook page, where thousands of agents from around the world sent me their well wishes, thoughts and prayers. On one hand, my thought was “Tell them to pray for my enemies. I don’t need help—my enemies will, if I live through this!” But of course I was just being funny. The truth is, I deeply appreciated every single good thought and prayer that came my way.

Gail and I have lived a fabulous life. We have a wonderful family, homes, cars, boats, horses and everything we could ever want. In fact, we have more than we need. For the past ten years, we’ve made a conscious decision to give back as a way of showing our appreciation for all we’ve been given. We agreed to divide our income into thirds. The first third off the top goes to charity. We support many great causes, including two that are especially dear to the RE/MAX organization, Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals and Susan G. Komen For the Cure.

Gail and I became involved with Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals (CMNH) in 1992 when we formed a partnership with them to raise money for the amazing things they do for sick or injured children and their families. Our RE/MAX friends in Canada introduced us to this very worthy cause. Children’s hospitals often lack the means to buy the latest equipment or help children who have no funds or insurance. Most hospitals won’t turn anyone away, so the money CMNH provides over and above what they get from insurance companies and from federal government assistance really helps the hospitals provide for those in need. We were so encouraged by the work CMNH does that we decided to make it an official RE/MAX charity. Thousands of RE/MAX agents and brokers contribute in all sorts of creative ways.

Each year, we invite a CMNH Miracle Child to our annual R4 convention. During the opening session, the child appears on stage and tells one of our officers his or her story. It’s always very inspirational. We also hold an auction offering all kinds of interesting items and packages—from golf outings at Sanctuary to precious jewelry—to raise money. During one convention, a lovely young lady named Mallory joined us as the Miracle Child. She was just seventeen years old, and even though she’d been born with several severe health conditions, she was eagerly looking forward to starting college in the fall. Ordinarily, I don’t bid in the auctions because people say it isn’t fair to go up against me when they want something. During this particular auction, however, there was a pair of beautiful, high-quality diamond earrings on the block. It took me a while, but I eventually outbid everyone. I took the diamonds up to Mallory and handed them to her.

“They’re yours. Put them on.” It was a magical moment for me to see Mallory light up and shine even brighter than those diamonds.

Another year, we featured a teenager who had a passion for racing like I do. At the time I was heavily involved with NASCAR. Rick Carelli, one of my favorite drivers and a friend for more than twenty years, agreed to donate one of his fire suits to the auction. The bidding got hot and heavy, but I ended up buying it. When they handed me the fire suit, I gave it to our Miracle Child that year.

I’ve thought of moments like that, and of other Miracle Children I’ve met over the years, a lot during my illness. Spending so much time in the hospital myself has really put into perspective what these kids and their families go through. These children are real heroes, and it makes it especially rewarding to know that RE/MAX has been there for them.

In October 2011, Gail and I were honored on behalf of RE/MAX at the CMNH annual convention, in part because RE/MAX agents had donated more than $100 million during the twenty-year relationship. It was a huge honor. RE/MAX has always had a culture of giving back to the communities it serves. And this was an easy cause to support. One hundred percent of the money raised for CMNH stays in the local community. I’m very proud of our association with CMNH, and of the generosity our RE/MAX family displays every year.

Another cause dear to my heart is Sentinels of Freedom, an organization devoted to helping men and women of the armed forces who have suffered severe injuries. Wounded warriors have always been important to me. I’ve raised money for Fisher House, which provides housing at military bases for families of wounded soldiers so their loved ones can be there to help support them throughout their recovery. I bought the original CNN Hummer at a charity auction and sent it to dozens of high-profile events around the country, including the Kentucky Derby, the Daytona 500, the Detroit Auto Show and the Balloon Festival in Albuquerque to help raise awareness about Fisher House and to solicit donations. Millions of people have seen the Hummer, and millions of dollars have been raised as a result.

I even took an under-the-radar trip to Walter Reed Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland to visit the soldiers recovering from injuries there. I solicited the support of the Denver Broncos, who donated jerseys and footballs and sent players and cheerleaders from the team to accompany us on our visit. It was an incredible experience to see the spirit of those warriors, who are coming back as double-or even triple-amputees, looking forward at the world, trying to make the best of what they have left. It was very inspirational to me, and something I often thought about after I got sick. My visit with those warriors then was as a former military man. Today, I’m a recovering soldier just like them. I look forward to making another trip there someday very soon.

What do we do with the rest of our money?

The next third goes to Uncle Sam and the final third to our family.

When we started RE/MAX, it was not an easy undertaking. Like many small businesses, we struggled a great deal. For a long time the paychecks were few and far between. The officers who joined the company early on have stuck with me from the very start. They never wavered from their commitment to me, nor did I to them. As a result, many of my very closest friends today happen to be colleagues—both past and present. Of course, we’ve made a big success from following our dream, but in the early days there were no certainties or guarantees of that. One of the promises I made to those loyal friends from the start was that RE/MAX would never become a family business—meaning my children would not come in and take over senior officer positions because they came from the lucky gene pool.

When my kids were young, we were not wealthy people. We were like any other normal middle-class family. I never believed in spoiling the children or giving them more than they needed. They all had jobs when they were teenagers, which taught them to work hard so they could buy their own cars and other things they wanted. This kind of life experience helped them develop a good work ethic from an early age. They quickly figured out they couldn’t be two minutes late or call in sick to go to a party with their friends. As a result, each grew up with tremendous discipline and appreciation for the things they earned. I had many long discussions with all four of my children when they were young, explaining that they couldn’t count on RE/MAX to make their living as they found their own way in life. Those conversations continued as they became adults. While I would not let them work at the company, I agreed to pay for their college educations and to even invest in business ventures with them if they made sense. But for the most part, they’ve been raised to be independent, to be on their own in business and in life.

One of the things my children have spoken to me about over the years was my absence in their lives as I grew RE/MAX into the business it has become today. Before I got sick, our relationships were good. All of my children have been very close their entire lives. They are good-hearted and well-intentioned in all that they do. They take care of their mother (my first wife) very well and have always shown Gail a great deal of love, respect and support throughout our years together.

When I got sick, it took the level of our relationships to a new high. I will never be able to thank my children enough for coming together to support Gail and to help protect me. Moreso, I am so proud of them for the way they conducted themselves with others throughout my illness. One of the nurses, who I became very close to, told me that everyone was nervous when I first arrived at Craig Hospital because no one knew what to expect. All they knew was that there was a confidential patient who was a large donor to the hospital over the years. While you might think that would have gotten me special privileges along the way, I assure you, it didn’t. My status meant nothing to them. Craig, like any top hospital, doesn’t care if you have a dollar to your name or if your name is on the wing you’re staying in. What this nurse most wanted to know was whether my family members and I were going to be demanding pains in the butt. I can certainly understand where she was coming from, as nurses are often targets for angry patients and families. Remember, I was once that guy—the one who didn’t trust nurses after Gail’s accident. I’m sure my reputation preceded my arrival!

I’m told that within hours, my family and friends had completely won over the hospital staff. They were the kind of group that jumped in to see how they could help the nurses, technicians and other hospital personnel instead of hinder them. So often, families get in the way of what needs to be done. Trust me, this doesn’t do anyone any good—especially the patient. When families argue, disagree and pull power trips about who is going to be in charge and make decisions, it’s hard to make the right choices because egos are involved. Calm minds always prevail.

This was also true for me throughout my stay at Sky Ridge and Craig. I knew I was a tough son of a bitch before I’d gotten sick, but my seven months in the hospital taught me that I wasn’t as tough as I thought. Even in my weakest moments, I always did my best to show the people who were helping me a great deal of courtesy and to extend the same kindness they were giving me. After all, these were the people helping me get well, and that still means a great deal to me.

I’m not perfect. I’ve had more than my share of enemies and have made more than my share of mistakes As you mature, you try to fit into the world more comfortably, to not be confrontational or hurt people, and you do your best to always show your appreciation. That is why I wanted to write this book. It’s my way of saying thank you to those who walked along my path on my journey of hope and healing. But it’s also meant to be something more. You see, the idea of this book first came to me when I was in the ICU. I thought about all of the people going through a crisis in their lives without the kind of love and support I had throughout my illness. I saw patients in Craig whose families couldn’t be with them for financial reasons or because they had other obligations keeping them apart. I was fortunate that I could go through my rehabilitation near my home. Most patients don’t have that luxury. As I spent so many nights awake and scared, I desperately wanted to find something I could read to help me understand what I was going through. I wanted a book that inspired me to keep working hard and to motivate me to never give up. I hope this is that book for you.

This journey is far from over. When I look at the things I’ve lost, they really aren’t that important. To a certain degree, I have lost my ability to use some of my right arm and hand. I have a weakness that is never going away on the right side of my body. I am never going to pass the annual FAA flight physical to be a pilot. But that’s ok, because I can still fly. Maybe not like Superman—yet. As you know by now, when it comes to this old lion, never say never.

As I put the finishing touches on this book, the holidays have come and gone. My goal to be walking by Christmas has been met—sort of. Today, I’m able to walk on my own for a short time first thing in the morning. I still use my cane to keep me steady and safe. By the afternoon, I find it easier to get around on my crutches. By the end of my day, which is as full as ever, with going to the office, continuing my physical therapy and even traveling a couple of times a month, my body is tired. I have no problem giving in to that fatigue and sitting in my power chair for relief. I am still in pain, but have learned to deal with it. I will likely spend the rest of my life on antibiotic therapy for the staph infection, which still resides in my body. And I will continue to work hard, doing everything it takes so that one day I can finally toss that cane in a corner as a reminder of where I once was, where I’ve been and what is possible.