“You were quite industrious for reaching out to me on LinkedIn.” That was the first compliment my husband ever gave me. I work in staffing, which means I look at dozens of LinkedIn professional profiles every day. So it’s not too crazy that I would find a husband there.

I started my market research (dating) when I was about 15 years-old. The first few boyfriends weren’t very serious. Then, as a junior, I met my high school sweetheart – an incredibly kind, compassionate, driven, and smart young man. Upon graduating, we chose to attend different universities but continued dating. One winter break, I flew to see him in Madrid while he studied abroad. On the flight over it hit me: if we stayed together, I’d spend my whole life following his dreams. Which would have been great, if they matched mine, but I was only 19 years old. What did I know about what I wanted to do with my life? The only thing I did know was that I still had some soul-searching to do. If I stayed with him, I’d never truly find myself.

“I’ve been dating since I was 15. I’m exhausted! Where is he?!” That’s one of my favorite TV quotes, said by Charlotte from Sex and the City. By the time I hit my late 20s, this was the story of my life.

The first half of my 20s, I dated plenty and had a couple of more really serious boyfriends. All wonderful, husband-material individuals, but again, I wasn’t ready. One day, my sister called to tell me she was pregnant with her second boy. At that moment, I finally had some clarity in my life. I needed to move to Denver.

I had a serious boyfriend at the time, and when I told my dad about my secret desire to move, he replied, “You know, Kate, when I met your mom, I wanted to spend every waking moment with her. It was the same when I met Shirley. You don’t seem to have that with this guy.”

My dad was right. I enjoyed his company, and he was perfect on paper, but something was missing. When I told the boyfriend that I wanted to move to Denver, he responded: “I don’t want to move to Denver.”

My inside voice said: “I didn’t ask you to.”

Within a few short months, I was packing my one bedroom condo into a U-Haul and making my way West to Denver – a.k.a. Menver.

I was excited about the prospects that came with a new city, and it was true, there were a lot of men. But dating in Denver proved to be far more difficult than dating in the Midwest. When a friend explained the Peter Pan Syndrome (PPS) to me, it suddenly started to make sense. PPS affects three out of five adult males, who, due to social circumstances, are never forced to grow up. It’s the fastest growing cause of old maids.

Why would a single man want to commit to having a girlfriend in Denver? Without a girlfriend tying you down, you can hang out at breweries on weeknights and spend weekends at a mountain cabin snowboarding with friends. Denver is full of adventure and good beer. It’s a bachelor’s paradise.

Despite my frustration, I held off on joining the legions of online daters. “When I grow up, I’m going to meet my husband online,” said no one from my generation ever. Online dating didn’t exist when we were little girls. And even though success at online dating happens all the time and may even one day become the norm, most people would prefer to meet their future spouse in more traditional, organic ways.

So instead, I stretched my social butterfly wings to the limit. At one point, I was playing in recreational sports leagues five days a week. I dropped volleyball and kickball in short order. They were more about drinking than the actual sport, and if I was going to try this hard to meet guys, I might as well work in some cardio. I stuck with Ultimate Frisbee and Gaelic Football. Both were fun leagues that led to great friends, and a few dates, but again, all missing the mark.

I went to networking events. I found a good church. I set my friends up with boyfriends, jobs, dentists, and hairstylists. One night over a few beers, my friend Justin remarked on how ironic it was I couldn’t meet a guy when I was the one person connecting all of Denver. Oh, but I was meeting guys…just the wrong ones.

In 2010, I finally caved and started online dating. By that point, I was seeing friends marry guys they met online, so I figured I’d give it a try.

Let me interject a little story I like to call “the worst online dating experience ever” (and that my friends refer to as “the best story ever”). After exchanging messages with a guy through a popular online dating site, he finally called to ask me out. During the call, he challenged me to a “plaid off.”

“A plaid off?” I asked. “Yeah, you know, whoever wears the most plaid wins.” I agreed, and, never one to back down from a challenge, I went all out. I’m the girl who has a giant bin full of costume gear. On top of that, I had one additional unfair advantage: my sister is a golf-pro – and we’re the same size.

The night before our date, I found myself suddenly concerned with the amount of plaid I had collected (shoes, socks, pants, belt, shirt, sweater, scarf, and hat). I texted him: “Is this like classy plaid or tacky plaid?”

“It’s a contest,” he replied.

On a Tuesday night in the middle of a blizzard, he picked me up wearing tasteful attire (given the comparison to his date) – plaid pants with a solid colored shirt. It was the most awkward date ever. The worst part was he made no mention or congratulations about my obvious win. And, of course, I ran into someone I knew at the restaurant.

There were many more bad dates, and some that I thought were good dates, where the guy never called again. All the while, I was still soul-searching. I realized I had done enough market research to know what I wanted, and I had also worked on myself and felt I was putting my best self forward.

I had finally let go and stopped trying so hard. I quit the leagues. I was truly engaged in my friends. My nephews ruled my world. I landed my dream job. And life was good.

Then, in May of 2013, out of the blue, I was diagnosed with ocular melanoma.

It has its own separate story. In short, I leaned heavily on my family and close friends during what was a very difficult time. And I made it through. I got a clean bill of health later that same summer.

Dating during and post-cancer survival is a whole different animal. One guy said to me, “Your current situation isn’t conducive to starting a romantic relationship.” He did offer I reach out to him when I was healthy again. Not in sickness, but in health. No thank you.

I knew the bar – and my standards – had just been raised even higher. This piece of my story would test the emotional capacity of any man I would meet very early on in the relationship.

I focused on work and enjoying being healthy.

Back to my job, where I spend a significant portion of my day on LinkedIn. Working in sales for a staffing company, my favorite part of the job is new business development. I love the challenge of breaking into a new company. I love cold calling companies that have job postings to see if I can help them fill the positions.

And that’s how I ended up on the LinkedIn profile of my future husband.

His company was seeking a web content writer. As I researched the company on LinkedIn, Nick’s face appeared as the manager of the Denver office. I melted. Without a second guess, and knowing full well that due to the nature of his company that it was a long shot we would actually do business together, I clicked “Connect.”

A couple of days later, he accepted my request. It got lost amidst a crazy afternoon and landed in my “low priority” email folder.

Two weeks passed before I saw the job posting again and remembered the smile of that cute guy who OH YEAH, accepted my request! I dug through the folder and sent him a message. I explained what I do, that I had a candidate who might be a good match, and ended with: “It doesn’t look like you’re from here. I hope you’re enjoying Denver.”

The beauty of LinkedIn. You can learn so much about a person before ever talking to them. From the looks of it, Nick was English and had spent time in San Francisco and Las Vegas before making way to Denver.

On the other side of this digital dance, Nick knew exactly what I was up to. Fortunately, he was equally intrigued. We exchanged a few more messages. Then, finally, I signed off one email saying, “If you ever want to grab a drink or coffee, I love networking.”

With that, he triumphantly announced to some co-workers, “I just got a date off of LinkedIn.”

We set up a “meeting” for Friday afternoon. But when Friday came, I got an email from Nick saying he needed to reschedule. I was disappointed. I responded that it was okay, suggested alternative dates and times, and never expected to hear from him again.

Meanwhile, his coworker and very good friend was scolding him for bailing on me.

He replied right away and said Saturday afternoon would work. We both had commitments later on that evening, so we planned to meet for an early drink at 5 p.m. at The Squeaky Bean.

On Saturday, I started to get really nervous as I got ready for my “networking meeting.” On my way there, I texted him to say I was wearing a reddish orange jacket so he would know how to spot me. He responded and said he was wearing a claret and blue checkered shirt.

Oh my God! He’s gay.

My gay stepbrother told me once that if a man describes something using a color outside the basic Crayola box, it means he’s gay.

“Relax, Katie,” I told myself as I laughed out loud. “He could be gay, married, who knows. You met this guy on LinkedIn. Keep it professional. Be yourself. And drop all expectations. You love meeting new people. He’s just another new person – another new connection.”

I sat at the bar waiting, early for the first time in my life, and no longer nervous. In walks Nick, very tall and very handsome. “Please don’t be gay. Please don’t be gay,” I thought to myself. We shook hands, and that was the beginning of something very special.

We talked business for a bit. He made great conversation. It moved from work to where we were from to family. I don’t think I stopped smiling the entire time. And his accent, oh his accent.

I had recently sold my scooter and in telling him about that, I revealed the reason was because I was now blind in one eye. Out came my story about surviving cancer. But he didn’t seem fazed.

When the bartender presented the bill, I reached for it. Nick stopped me. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you pay tonight,” he said.

This was clearly not a networking meeting.

As he closed out, he said he hoped to see me again. I told him I’d like that.

We were both heading out to meet friends. But first, we had to walk down a narrow path to get to the street corner. He glanced at me, grabbed my hand, and led me down the path. My heart was racing. Once we cleared the trouble spot, he kept holding my hand. When we got to the corner, he kissed me. He claims I kissed him, but it doesn’t really matter.

We walked our separate ways, and I hoped and prayed he’d call.

I heard from him the next day.

Just like my dad said it would happen, we were soon spending every waking moment together. In October, we celebrated one year of dating. The next month, on Thanksgiving, he got down on one knee in front of my family and asked for my hand in marriage. I said “yes.”

My market research was finally over. It was a joyful occasion.

But it would soon take a bittersweet turn.

That same week, we got the news my cancer had returned – this time to my liver. The months that followed have been a series of emotional extremes for both of us. I cannot imagine facing what I am facing right now without Nick by my side. We decided on setting an early wedding date so we can face this battle together – as a family.

We planned our wedding in six short weeks. It wasn’t quite the wedding I always imagined, but that did not make one bit of a difference in my fairy tale. I married the man I’ve been searching for all these years – and that’s all that matters.

And every time I log into LinkedIn, I’m reminded of how grateful I am for the day I clicked Connect.

Dear Family & Friends,

It’s that time of year again, when I reflect on all the things I have to be grateful for, particularly as I celebrate another year of being a cancer survivor. Tomorrow, November 25, marks the two year anniversary of my second diagnosis.

While 2015 was a year a physical challenges with tough treatments and frequent travel, 2016 proved to be far more difficult mentally. I started the year with a six month break in treatment. For a while there, I forgot I was even sick. With this break from doctor’s visits, needles and scans, I was able to reflect more on this journey I’m on. It’s still a lot to take in.

My perception of what really matters in life has changed. And my relationships continued to deepen with those I love. As always, Nick and Alice are my rocks. We kept very busy this year. We moved into our new home in February. We enjoyed a visit from his parents in May. We traveled to Seattle, Minneapolis, D.C., England and Ireland. I climbed my first 14’er! And we welcomed another nephew into our family.

In June, I made the choice at work to step down from management and go to four days a week. I needed a day to myself to take care of me and reflect on all that I am going through. A couple days later, tumor growth landed me in my third clinical trial at the University of Colorado.

I ended up losing my hair and several men in my life shaved their heads with me including my brothers, Chris and Paul, my brother-in-law Martyn, my father-in-law Jim, my dad, my sweet husband and my darling nephew Tommy.

Having a physical sign of cancer sure changed the way I went through my days and interacted with others. Cancer continues to teach me lessons in humility. I’m now off that treatment and sporting the pixie cut I always wanted to try but never dared.

Just like last year (and always), Tim McGraw spoke to me in one of his songs: Always Be Humble and Kind.

Hold the door, say “please”, say “thank you”
Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie
I know you got mountains to climb
But always stay humble and kind

Don’t take for granted the love this life gives you
When you get where you’re going don’t forget turn back around
And help the next one in line
Always stay humble and kind

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support during this marathon of a fight. Hug your loved ones extra tight this holiday season. Be grateful for all that you have, especially your health. And LOVE THIS LIFE.

All of My Love,

_katie

 

“You know what today is?” asked the man sitting in his recliner a few feet from mine, enjoying the same treat I was, only a slightly different variety.

“What?” I asked.

“A gift.”

Damn straight. Today I had my fourth treatment, and I left the hospital feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. I spent the past couple hours chatting with an older gentleman named Ron and his wife, Gloria, whom he so clearly adores.

The dialog is pretty predictable in those halls. There are two chairs per room, and it doesn’t take long for the “what are you in for” conversation to start.

Ron was baffled with my eyeball cancer. His started as prostate cancer and metastasized to his bones. We shared secrets to fighting the side effects and book titles about nutrition. We joked about “who wore it best” when comparing our bald heads.

We talked about diet and attitude and the way you end up living your life when you’re faced with your own mortality. We shared our stories about finding the love of our lives who are carrying us through this journey.

We exchanged emails and when I got to my car, he had sent me images of some paintings he created. His wife got him started a couple years ago, as an outlet I presume. They were beautiful.

If you’ve seen The Holiday with Kate Winslet, he reminded me of Arthur. Such a beautiful outlook on life and such a beautiful meet cute.

We may not have appreciated our reasons for being there, but I sure felt blessed walking away. Thank you, Ron, for reminding me what a gift today is.

This week, the week of Thanksgiving, marks the one-year anniversary of my perspective on life changing completely – and for the better. One year ago this week, I was both diagnosed with Stage IV uveal melanoma and became engaged to be married to the love of my life. What a roller coaster it was and continues to be. As I reflect on the last year, I’m overcome with emotions.

My brother calls me fearless. It’s true; when faced with your own mortality, you become fearless. I jumped out of an airplane this year for one! I do still have some fears, however, the biggest one being: Do the people who fought for me and with me this past year know how grateful I am?

I thought I’d take this opportunity, in case I haven’t said it enough, to say “thank you.” One expects some people to be there when life throws you a curveball like cancer: your husband, your parents, your siblings, your extended family, your in-laws (official and unofficial), your colleagues, your friends, and your dentist (when you’re Katie Doble). Other people surprise you: friends from grade school, families from your neighborhood growing up, the medical professionals helping to heal you, grade school teachers, college professors, your siblings’ neighbors, the colleagues you adopted as you sought treatment in another state, clients, your dad’s patients…the list goes on.

Whichever list you fall under for me, the expected or unexpected, I am eternally grateful to you. Whether you were rearranging your life to travel with me to treatments, visiting me in NYC or Denver, contributing financially, making sure my toes were painted all year round, drinking wine with me, sending me care packages and cards, giving me therapy sessions at no charge, tucking me in every night, covering for me when I missed work, stashing my supply of trashy magazines, working from my home on days I wasn’t strong enough to be alone, taking care of our crazy puppy, or posting words of encouragement on my CaringBridge site – I could not have made it through this year without all your love, prayers, and support. I consider myself so blessed.

Family has always been the most important thing to me, and this past year, my family proved why. My parents gave me their all this year. They made me feel like a little girl that they were trying with all their might to protect. That’s the greatest feeling as a daughter. My siblings and their spouses rallied around me and made it clear I was never alone in this fight. My husband was my number one fan and despite all the uncertainties and chaos in this past year, he gave me the best year of my life.

I spoke with a lot of dear friends this year about time spent. This year has taught me how important it is to be in the company of people I love and how easy it is, once I learned how, to say “no.” I have always had a hard time saying no; I’ve always overcommitted.

This year I stopped. It was so refreshing. I slowed down. I spent more nights in and less nights out. I made more memories with my nephews and niece. I saw my friends less, but the time spent with them was more meaningful. I left work a little earlier each night. I took some very special trips back home to NE and MN. I don’t have any regrets on how I’ve spent my time in the past. But I’m so content with how I’m living my life now.

Recently, I heard Tim McGraw’s song “Live Like You’re Dying” and it brought me to tears (and laughter, as I did some of the things!):

I went sky divin
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds
On a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
And gave forgiveness I’d been denying
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dying

I worked for a woman once who thought it was a horrible song, with a morbid message. I disagreed with her then, and even more so now. No matter how much time I have left on this earth, getting the perspective I have in the last year really has allowed me to love deeper and speak sweeter. I am so grateful for that because it is a liberating way to live.

So this Thanksgiving holiday, I thank God and all my angels for this past year and for the friends and family who have blessed me daily. God bless you.

All my love,

Katie