When the Person Who Carried You Through Leaves
Some people save your life. Others change how you understand it.
This week, my oncologist is moving on professionally.
And unexpectedly, I felt the weight of that moment more than I anticipated. Not fear. Not loss exactly. Something quieter, a deep recognition of what it means to be carried through something you could not survive alone.
A decade after my first remission from DLBCL, I believed cancer was behind me. A closed chapter. Then, last year, a routine ENT visit led to scans, a biopsy, and a MyChart notification that shattered that illusion.
I called my oncologist’s office frantically that afternoon. He was off. Still, he called me back within the hour. Asked for my scans. Scheduled a bone marrow aspiration the following Monday.
That call marked the beginning of fourteen months I could never have imagined: PET scans, CTs, MRIs, chemotherapy, high-dose chemotherapy, stem cell harvesting, and a 29-day hospital stay for an autologous stem cell transplant (complicated by tachycardia), followed by five additional months of immunotherapy as part of a clinical trial.
It was relentless. Physical. Existential.
Through it all, he was there. Even when I didn’t ask.
He was steady. Strong, tender, unwavering, like a rock in a storm I could not navigate alone. Early on, he spent over an hour walking me through the full protocol for a refractory DLBCL relapse. When he finished, I asked the only question that mattered:
“Do you think this will work?”
It wasn’t just his answer. It was the silence that followed. The way he held the moment. The gaze that said, “I am here, and I will not disappear.”
At one point, he even offered me autonomy, referring me to an alternative protocol if I wanted a second path.
I’ll never forget waking in the hospital at 5:30 a.m. on a weekend to find him doing rounds. Saturday. Sunday. Who does that?
Many people dread visits to their oncologist. I didn’t. Scan anxiety always hovered, yes. But I knew I would leave with clarity, understanding, and care. Every test result. Every next step was met with presence and precision.
But the deeper truth isn’t in the scans or the science.
It’s in what this experience illuminated for me: something I see mirrored in leadership, and in life:
- True strength is quiet
- Care is measured in presence, not words
- Trust is a choice, even when fear is loud
- Healing engages the heart fully
We often talk about resilience as something we do. But sometimes resilience is something we’re allowed to receive through another person’s steadiness when ours is gone.
If you’re navigating a season of uncertainty, let this be a reminder: you don’t have to carry it alone.
And if someone has carried you through your darkest chapter, tell them while you still can.
Savio P. Clemente is a journalist, keynote and TEDx speaker, and creator of Adaptive Resilience Leadership for high performers. A two-time cancer survivor and board-certified wellness coach (NBC-HWC, ACC), he rebuilt his life after a life-saving stem cell transplant — what doctors call a medical rebirth. Savio has interviewed 2,000+ leaders on global stages about resilience, mindset, and human performance. Through his best-selling book and high-impact keynotes, he helps leaders turn adversity into strategic advantage. 🔗 saviopclemente.com ↗