The frontlines of COVID-19—A love letter

To the nurses, EMTs, physicians, staff who are on the front line of this war, thank you for risking and sacrificing health, safety, comfort to ensure our health, safety, and comfort. You even sacrifice time with your family so we can be with ours. You are exposed so that we can be protected.

You are heroes.

An EMT we know goes to and fro, sirens ringing, carting people back and forth to hospitals on the bloody edge of this pandemic. And when he’s not saving lives, he allows himself to see his kids and wife from afar at an outdoor playground once a week or two to limit the possibility for him to expose them to the virus. And to remind them of his love he records himself singing to them and sends the videos to his daughters.

Sacrificial acts are everywhere.

They harmonizes with the melody of these times, coupled with the dissonance of pain and agony as an aria of heroism crescendos before us in humans performing extraordinary acts everyday, like this EMT.

In New York City, the eye of the storm, we know a world class surgeon who, repaired our baby’s cleft lip and palate, with his seven-figure hands, insured and well manicured, trained in plastic surgery to perform delicate carvings, is now caring for patients struggling for breath, drowning above water.

Now this surgeon answered the call to be on the frontlines because staffing is low from his colleagues getting COVID-19, so he stepped in to fill the gap, exposing himself to the threat.

He has children, a family. He has a great career. Nonetheless, he dives into the trenches. Even though he doesn’t show it, I’d imagine that he has fears. But he charges into danger anyway.

Many are jumping into it, risking much, risking all, to help their patients, them, us, me, you.

This isn’t about title, position, money. It’s about doing what must be done to save lives, stem the tide, help people.

Another friend is a nurse in Queens, and a new mother. We just saw her post a picture on social media. She looked like a warrior, masked, armed, ready to battle this invisible enemy who masquerades in human form, using our bodies as vehicles for its mayhem. And she’s at a Queens hospital attacking it with all of her wits, energy, body, spirit, soul.

To my friends, to strangers, to all who are fighting where the fight is bloodiest, fiercest, most dangerous, we salute you.

We honor you. We love you.

For the courage, valor, duty, honor, love that beats greatly in you, we acknowledge you.

You are the best of us.

You don’t just live to stay alive. You’re spending your lives to save ours.

If there is a silver lining in all of this darkness, it is this. It provides the world a backdrop for people like you to shine and radiate.

So we see you, and by your light we see.


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Unlearn yourself

You’re not stuck; you just haven’t learned to unlearn yourself.

That phrase, “unlearn yourself,” is powerful because it unlocks the potential we all have within us. And it reframes the stories we tell ourselves that hold us back.

Our stories define us. And those definitions often trap us. They’re a cage of assumptions and ideas that confine and hinder us from improving our lives, living better.

Years ago, I used to have chronic pain, which I believed was the reason I was terribly out of shape. And I thought that I really couldn’t do much about it because I went to countless doctors but still agonized.

That was my story. That’s what I told myself. I was trapped.

Then I started mall walking with my wife. And I might have been out of breath the first few times, as grandmas lapped me. (Seriously.) But somehow I felt better physically after I went, so I kept at it.

Eventually, that led to me start running regularly, which set my lungs on fire, but also made me feel good, somehow.

And after years of incremental changes and improvements to my workouts and diet, I became healthy and fit. More than that, the pain dissipated.

After all of that, I realized how wrong I was about my body, my health, my pain, my story—me.

There was a cage around me that I never even realized was there. It was framed in a story that I wove about myself until it held me captive.

Then, I unlearned myself.

And everything changed. I changed.

What about you?

What do you believe about yourself that isn’t right or is entirely wrong?

It’s hard to see sometimes. Start by doing this.

Take stock when you say, “I can’t do that,” not about anything immoral, but those things you want to do or should do but believe you can’t.

What are those things, areas, goals, practices? Start there.

Unlearn yourself.

And you’ll learn how powerful you really are, unlocking the potential you never knew you had.


Want coaching?

I’m only taking on a limited number of people, like 3. But if you’re interested, contact me and let’s set up a time for a video call.

Whether it’s in business, career, relationships, life, I’m here for you.

The first thirty minute session is free.

If you want to proceed after that, I will provide pricing.

I hope to connect with you and reach new heights together.


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We could have been homeless—A story

It was the end of February, and I was scared.

Something was going on in China. It was shrouded and strange but scary. People were getting sick, and many were dying, and it was growing at an alarming rate.

I started to suspect that it was already in NYC. “I mean, how could it not be?” I thought. It’s a global city, and the number of people who do business in China and have connections there was numerous.

So the four of us in our family self-quarantined and social-distanced, keeping our kindergartner out of school, even though the school called us to tell we should be sending him there and that he would get unexcused absences. But we didn’t care. We cared more about his life, his health.

Also our second child, our baby, had a cleft palate and lip. The latter was already repaired, and the former was scheduled for surgery on March 18th.

But it didn’t feel right. We felt this urgency, that it was only time before NYC was in a panic.

So we moved up the date. They had the 9th open. And we took it and prayed that nothing would happen to cancel it before then.

We were also planning on moving out of NYC even before the pandemic. But that changed these plans as well. After moving up the surgery, we moved up the move and the closing date for our new home in St. Louis. The latter moved from mid-April to March 20th, and the movers would come to NYC on the 18th.

So everything was changed and set.

And now it was the beginning of March, and all we could do was wait.

The first few cases occurred in NYC. But there wasn’t panic yet. People were still going out. No one was wearing facemasks. Bars were still full, restaurants bustling. The city was still the city.

The 9th finally came. Donning a facemask and latex gloves, I walked an hour with our baby in the stroller, to avoid Ubering, to the hospital. I marched into the hospital, ready to do battle against this invisible enemy. No one else wore a mask.

The surgery was a success, and the doctor let us out early because he saw that we were seriously concerned about this virus.

I walked home that night and was greeted by my wife and firstborn. We were happy and relieved and tired.

The following days my wife and I were busy pumping various painkillers into our baby (since he had the roof of his mouth carved up and put back together) and packing to get ready for the movers.

All the while, the cases were jumping. People started dying. We were worried.

The surgeon wanted us to come in for a postoperative appointment. We tried to get out of it. But he wouldn’t let us.

So on March 16th, I went, wearing another facemask. It was quick and easy. Our baby looked great. But then the doctor told me news that sent shivers down my body.

All elective surgeries were canceled that week by the hospital to get ready for the onslaught of patients from COVID-19.

If we hadn’t move up the date for our surgery, it would have been canceled for some indefinite date.

And even now, as I write this, it looks like we would be waiting a very long time to get rescheduled, and we would have needed to go back to NYC to do it.

Instead, we were on the other side and done and just making sure our screaming baby wasn’t in too much pain while we waited for the movers. They arrived on the morning of the 18th and quickly started moving our things into the truck.

Right after they got there, I went into New Jersey to pick up a Suburban we were renting to drive back to St. Louis. We didn’t want to risk flying.

Riding my bike down to the ferry was wonderful. The air was crisp and the Hudson River was on my right and the city was on my left. But it was already changed. It was quieter, more fearful, less certain.

I was the only person on that ferry during rush-hour.

After picking up the car, I got back into the city quickly since there was very little traffic. People were already working from home.

As the movers were finishing up, I wiped down the whole Suburban and started packing it with all of the stuff we needed for the next couple of days. (It’s amazing what a family of four “needs.”) And we had our 80lbs dog and cat.

Driving through the night while still dosing up our baby with a concoction of Motrin and Tylenol, was interesting. But we made it to St. Louis the next day, the 19th.

After staying a night in an Airbnb that a friend let us use, we were set to close on our new home on the 20th. We requested a mobile notary to bring us the documents to sign for our new home. He did.

The movers were supposed to move us in on the 21st, but they said that they could do it on the 20th. So on that afternoon, after we closed, we were totally moved in and unpacking.

On the 20th, NYC was locked down.

On the 23rd, St. Louis was locked down.

If things were off by a couple of days we could have been trapped in NYC; or worse, we could have been homeless. But things worked out, miraculously.

Sure, I guess we could say, “Wow, we are amazing to have done all of that,” but that would be ridiculous because we had no idea what we were doing. We were like a blind person wandering around NYC for the first time: Lost.

It was a Divine hand that was guiding us. It was God’s grace that held us. We were objects of mercy.

The timing was too perfect to be planned.

Right now, we are comfortably situated in our home working, playing, living. We’re still quarantining and healthy. And as each day passes, we are more grateful.

For those of you who prayed for and thought about us, thank you. We really needed you.

We hope you are well, too, friends.

Lots of love,
John


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