Authored by Brad Todd via The What For Substack,
We found our new home in the same year I fell in love with Piemonte. It was a stroke of luck that our house came equipped with a walk-in wine cellar, and the picturesque vineyards scattered across the majestic Italian landscape from LaMorra to Serralunga D’Alba introduced me to a plethora of vineyards to stock it with. I have taken great pleasure in curating this collection of wines, but sadly, I may not have the chance to savor them.
As you read this, I will be undergoing a lengthy surgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital to remove a malignant tumor from my ethmoid sinus. This tumor is a close relative of the one that was removed in 2020, a discovery that was made incidentally during a routine Covid test. The pandemic inadvertently saved my life once, giving me access to the exceptional medical team at one of the world’s leading otolaryngology units, who will now help save my life once again.
Sinus tumors, or as I prefer to call them, “exceptional” tumors, are incredibly rare, with only a few hundred people battling them each year. Following the surgery, I will undergo radiation therapy and possibly chemotherapy. Unfortunately, I will not be able to enjoy my beloved Italian wine collection as I did after my previous surgery. The loss of my sense of smell for several months following the 2020 surgery was challenging, but my appreciation for wine returned once I recovered. However, this time, the surgical plan will likely prevent me from experiencing the same joy.
The question I am grappling with, and one that I pose to you as well, is what other wines have I stored away and not enjoyed?
What other wines can I look forward to enjoying once this ordeal is behind me?
Before the cancer recurrence, I had a conversation with someone about overcoming the disease the first time. I shared with her, as I have many times before, that “you cannot un-hear that your body is trying to kill you.” Her immediate response was, “what did you change?”
I offered two responses, one relating to work and the other to home.
Firstly, cancer prompted me to adopt a professional practice of only giving the same good advice twice. Previously, I would agonize over how to persuade clients to make strategic decisions they were hesitant about. Cancer taught me to be a more disciplined advisor. Senator Dave McCormick, whose successful campaign I helped lead in 2024, often expresses gratitude for having the “post-cancer Brad” by his side. As a former CEO and Army officer with a focus on leadership, he recognized that I had gained a valuable perspective on when to stand firm and offer advice only when absolutely necessary.
On a personal note, I explained to my friend that battling cancer in 2020 compelled me to prioritize my children’s significant milestones. After my surgery, I made it a point to attend every important event in my children’s lives, from coaching my daughter’s softball team to never missing a football game or a school performance. Cancer shifted my priorities, and I am grateful that it struck before my children reached crucial stages in their lives. Otherwise, I might have missed out on these precious moments due to my previous professional commitments.
But I did ensure to store up the wine.
My collection predominantly consists of Barolo, the crown jewel of Italian wines, with a few Barbaresco bottles, some Californian varieties, and a selection of intriguing Sagrantino vintages from Umbria that remain undiscovered by many Americans. I developed a fondness for single-cru wines, crafted from grapes grown in the same location under identical sunlight conditions. Over time, I gravitated towards the steeper crus surrounding the village of Serralunga D’Alba, particularly favoring the Prapo cru as the finest, although the higher-altitude Monvigliero cru holds its own charm, and Lazzarito offers a delightful experience.
I possess extensive verticals of G.D. Vajra Barolo, my preferred producer, including the elegant Bricco Delle Viole and the approachable Ravera crus. I gifted my surgeon and his assistant bottles of these wines the week following my 2020 surgery, promising to enjoy them together once I reached the five-year all-clear mark that cancer survivors often aim for.
We celebrated this milestone last autumn, and statistically speaking, I should not be facing the same tumor in Year Six. However, tumors do not adhere to calendars. I am now embarking on a medical journey that may prevent me from relishing Italian wine but will ultimately save my life. It is a trade-off that I am willing to make.
The prospect of losing my ability to appreciate this cherished asset has led me to contemplate what other pleasures I may have overlooked in the past six years.
One such pleasure is vacations. Our family did not take a vacation this year due to a lack of time. Additionally, my wife and I have postponed our 25th-anniversary trip for the third consecutive year. We now plan to embark on this trip in December after my radiation treatment, coinciding with a speech I am scheduled to deliver. I am disappointed that we have deferred this trip three times instead of making it happen, given that our annual anniversary getaways were highlights of our life together. Our travel styles are well-matched, and these trips have strengthened our bond. We are both comfortable with spontaneity, even venturing to Europe once with no plans for the latter half of our trip until we arrived on the continent. The impromptu detour to Chamonix and the subsequent relaxation by Mont Blanc without an agenda provided the unexpected rejuvenation we needed.
Following the conclusion of this challenging chapter, my wife and I will prioritize more travel. Spending quality time with her and catering to her desires will be a top priority on my post-cancer agenda. We have successfully co-parented for 19 years, and I believe that the phase of our lives post-parenthood will be equally fulfilling.
I also aim to devote more time to reading. While Substack has enriched my life by replacing some of my endless scrolling habits, it has also consumed time that I previously allocated to reading literature. This needs to change, as I have only made it halfway through Cormac McCarthy’s works, which is unsatisfactory progress for a 56-year-old from East Tennessee. The decline in reading among society as a whole is a concerning trend, and I am committed to doing my part to reverse it.
After my initial battle with cancer, I increased my involvement in charitable and church initiatives that are close to my heart – although some of this may be attributed to aging as much as surviving. As we reach the peak of our executive careers when we can make the most impact, it is crucial for all of us to assess our contributions to society. While volunteering at a food bank is commendable, devising a strategy for regular milk deliveries can have a more significant effect.
Reliability has always been a strong suit of mine – attending friends’ events, funerals, and performances has always been a priority. However, I intend to increase my attendance rate closer to 100% following this experience. Since 2020, church services have played a more significant role in my life – my faith did not require reinforcement, but my commitment to worship did. I highly recommend this. Cancer may have made me more assertive in publicly professing my faith – or perhaps less self-conscious about expressing it, even on live television. I anticipate that I will be even more forthcoming in the future.
Live music was not something I expected to prioritize following a medical diagnosis, but it is a priority this time around. Some of the most memorable moments of my adult life have been at concerts. A rooftop concert in New York City this summer with my family and the Turnpike Troubadours, my favorite band, was the highlight of 2026 for me. The upcoming Turnpike show in Richmond in October, coinciding with the start of my radiation treatment, is an event I hope to attend. As my daughter shares my love for music, and my son and I have similar tastes in genres, I will proactively schedule major concerts on our calendar, even if it requires traveling.
The coming days will be challenging after a lengthy surgery, followed by a period of discomfort on the couch with my face packed with surgical materials as I wean off pain medication. I will binge-watch shows on various streaming platforms, lament the absence of college football, and spend time with my chubby but cuddly dog. Together, we will compile a more extensive list of things I hope to accomplish with the additional time that I hope to be granted by a higher power.
You too can create a similar list without the need for anesthesia or face-packing that I will experience, as we are all living on borrowed time granted by a higher power, whether we acknowledge it or not.
Enjoy the wine.
Engage in the game.
Attend the show.
Express your love for the people you care about.
Offer a prayer – and include a prayer for your favorite writer.