It was the final day of March in 2015. The next day my wife Emily and our one-year-old daughter were headed on a three week trip to visit family in Taiwan. I would have liked to have traveled with them, but there was too much work. No way I could afford to let up for three weeks.

In spite of that, I already knew I wouldn’t be getting any work done while they were gone. I had a better reason for staying behind than work.

I knew I was going to spend the next three weeks in the hospital. But I didn’t want her to know. I didn’t want her to cancel the trip. The last thing I wanted was to have her chasing the baby around the hospital for seven days or more while I was hooked up to IVs and catheters. I didn’t want them to see me like that. And to be honest, I didn’t want to see them either.

Not while I was facing my demon.

This was my battle to fight.