How I Learned the Cost of Not Living on Your Own Terms

“Declaring something finished freezes its evolution.” — Walter Isaacson

In the summer of 2013 I found myself driving along a narrow country road just outside of East London, South Africa. As if navigating a stick shift on the left side of the road weren’t a big enough dare, the events leading up to my impromptu adventure proved equally challenging.

After finishing my 5 weeks of volunteer work in a town called, Chinsta Village, I felt a sharp pain near my groin one morning. I spent nearly a week in bed half convinced I’d never again walk without a hitch in my step.

After practically inhaling a bottle of antibiotics and laying in bed for a week, I decided it was time to visit the main hospital in East London.

“You have a cyst,” my doctor told me. “And you have two options. First, you can let it burst on its own, which will be extremely painful. Or, you can let me operate on you tonight.”

Even doctors are salesman, I thought.

Needless to say, I paid nearly $3,000 out of pocket to avoid the first alternative.

If at all possible, I highly recommend scheduling your next emergency surgery in an area your health insurance is recognized.

A few days after my operation, I was a little banged up, but in good spirits. It turned out all the fuss was over an ulcer.

Still, the patience of my normally poised parents had been put to the test. And who could blame them? My last note to them before heading into surgery was quite distressing:

Hi Dad,

Hope all is well. Having emergency surgery. Talk soon.

Love,

Nick

This did not go over well.

But it turned out it wasn’t the choice of my words that alarmed them most, but the 4 days it took to confirm I was in fact still alive.

Either way, I learned my lesson.

You might think my experience in a drab hospital room on the other side of the world might have imparted a lesson or two.  

At the very least on the importance of maintaining your poise in the face of adversity, how to expect the unexpected, or the do’s and don’ts of communicating with your folks.

It did all of that AND more.

But it was a radio broadcast of all things that fundamentally changed the way I saw the world. To this day, I refer to the moment as my personal “Sermon on the Mount.”

A few minutes into my drive, I decided to turn on the radio. I felt relieved everything had worked out and excited about the journey ahead. A soundtrack seemed in order.

But after several minutes of carefully turning the dial as if I was opening a safe, I hear nothing but static.

Just as I was about to turn off the radio, I heard a voice leap from the speakers. It was the distinct rhythm of a South African preacher in the middle of a sermon.

“Take my house. Take my car. You can even take all my money,” he said. “But please, DO NOT TAKE MY TIME! Do not take my time because that I cannot replace.”

Seconds later, the station mysteriously faded out like some apparition into the night.

That moment changed my life.