A Love Letter to South Carolina.

Two years ago today, Jack and I, together with Dempsey and Dermot, boarded a plane with a one-way ticket, where we met Brady who made the long cross-country journey days earlier. And with that, we began the process of becoming South Carolina residents. We were terrified, sad, excited, hopeful. All of the feelings. Saying goodbye to ND, our family, our friends and the only home we had ever known felt like we had pulled up a giant oak tree with all its roots and tried to plant it in squishy ground.

Brady was going to start his new career. Jack was going to start a new school. I was going to continue to hang on by my fingernails as I worked for NISC at the busiest time of the year, while trying to establish a life in between DMV visits, paying property taxes on our cars (ouch), learning what termite bonds are and figuring out how to get one, finding a hair stylist (because, priorities) and looking for a post office. But, what we didn’t know then was that life was about to throw us a giant curve ball, and ultimately, this new state that ultimately claimed us Northerners, would save Brady’s life, and in the process, give us a whole different perspective.

It was pure coincidence and for unrelated reasons that Brady ended up in the ER a year ago May. Thanks to an extremely thorough emergency physician (Dr. Boozer, we’re looking at you - and yes, that’s her real name), she didn’t stop at a blood test. She could’ve easily chalked it up to a virus or infection and sent him home on antibiotics. But, she wasn’t satisfied with just that; she ordered a full CT scan, saw some unrelated inflammation in his lower colon and out of precaution, decided to admit him and refer him to a gastroenterologist to see him inpatient. It was during that hospital visit that included a colonoscopy when I was called down to the recovery room. The physician didn’t mince words. He found a mass. He was certain that Brady had rectal cancer, and it was “very serious.”

With that, we were thrown into a whirlwind of appointments, scans, consults, etc. and, over the course of 18 months, Brady has persevered through 96 days of oral chemo, four chemo infusions, 28 radiation treatments, a major surgery involving an ileostomy and most recently, an ileostomy reversal. Today, Brady is rebuilding his strength, adjusting to new plumbing, and has no evidence of cancer.

But this story really isn’t about that. It’s a story about making a life and being fully dependent on a community and hospital system where you know no one. It’s a vulnerable experience. And yet, it was the catalyst that threw us into a web that not just caught us, but held us. Our world broadened. Neighbors became dear friends. The medical community became our partners. And Jack’s world did not stop. COVID and cancer be damned, we were going to see to it that his life would move forward. And it did. In fact, he thrived. He learned and experienced first-hand that life is hard and sometimes cruel. Suffering is real, and yet, he kept moving. He got his license and navigated crazy drivers, wayyyyyyy busier roads than he was accustomed to, crazy interstates including one nicknamed “malfunction junction” and drove himself all over the place while Brady and I worked, went to appointments, dealt with multiple hospitalizations and setbacks, and did our best to Just. Keep. Going.

Jack joined DECA and even took third in the state of SC for public speaking. His tennis club rallied around him, invested in him, and today, they are his family. He’s thrived at tennis. He’s competed across the state. He allowed himself to get his butt kicked over and over and over until he improved and learned how to compete. He’s made many school friends who have shared their culture with him, and he even hosted a Bollywood party at our house.

And as for me, I decided to put another stake in the SC ground, when I made the decision to leave NISC and join WCTEL, a rural broadband co-op that is changing lives and connecting people to the world in western and upstate South Carolina. I miss my NISC family, but the beauty of it is that those relationships endure. And my new WCTEL family is pretty darn special. I may talk funny to them, but they’ve assured me that I do indeed have a southern soul.

Brady’s work family has supported all of us, given him grace and time to heal when he needed it, and always knew when it was time to throw him into the frying pan again, which did more for him mentally than anything else could. His courage and strength throughout all of this defies words.

So here we are. I’ve decided those old oak tree roots still reside in ND, where a good part of our heart, family and friends still resides. We miss them dearly and feel their absence heavily. But, with any luck, we’ll be able to go back to visit that old oak tree more often now that Brady is getting stronger. But, we also have a new tree – with new roots in South Carolina. The roots are getting stronger and stronger by the day while the ground beneath us keeps getting firmer. It’s a different tree; it’s young and a little wind-whipped, but she’s a strong one. And she is colorful, delivering flowers day after day.

We took the jump. We didn’t land. Rather, we were caught and carried to safety.

So, South Carolina, I guess this is a love story to you. We are part of you, and you’re a part of us. You get to sit right next to North Dakota. You two really do have more in common with each other than you think. And, I think you could even swap some advice. Just don’t swap the weather.