Salt and Signal Studios

Author’s Note: The Arc, in Retrospect

I didn’t write these pieces knowing they were a series.
At first, they were scattered reflections—moments of pain, survival, disappointment, and growth. But looking back, I can see the arc clearly now. What began as a fragmented story about medical trauma became something deeper: a record of reckoning, healing, and transformation.
“The Scientist” was the spark—a story about admiration, misconnection, and the shattering of ideals.
“Trichotomy” explored the clinical breakdown of trust, peeling back the layers of system failure and personal grief.
“Godzilla” gave shape to the emotional fallout—the monster that trauma can become when left unnamed.
“Never Get Caught Caring” exposed the raw interior: how vulnerability and hope collide when care turns personal.
“Pivot” marked a decision. A turning point. A choice to move forward.
And “The Chief” brought me to the summit. The quiet moment where I stopped talking at the storm, and finally listened in the silence.
Together, these form a chapter of my life I never wanted—but one I now own.
If you’ve followed along, I want to thank you. I hope you found pieces of yourself in these entries, and I hope they gave you permission to grieve your own pain honestly—and still move forward.
This arc is finished, but the story isn’t over.
There is life beyond the ER. There is purpose after pivot. And there is peace—even in the unresolved.
Hold fast. The race ahead may not be the one you expected, but it might be the one you were made for.
—CT

Do you ever have moments in life where you want to talk with the person in charge? Maybe send a few gripes up the chain. Let that guy up top know those of us down here doing the work ain’t gonna take it anymore. If conditions don’t improve, I’m out of here. Take this less-than-ideal situation and shove it. Climb those stairs to the CEO’s office, and give them what for.
Sure.

Who hasn’t had that brief folly play out in their mind? After some inconvenience, grand or small, trips up the flow of your plans, “We’re not gonna take it!” can become an anthem of operations. But, there is a problem with that type of thinking. You are the CEO, CFO, COO, and whatever other title describes absolute charge and ownership of something significant. The buck for most things stops with you.

With this realization, said list of demands and complaints has a sudden change in meaning. Time to pare down to what really matters. After some consideration, there are legitimate things on this list of mine, and I imagine yours too. Things that are very much not in our control. What do we do with THOSE things? You know, the stuff that makes your heart ache and robs you of sleep at night.

In history, there is a theme of important meetings between deity and man happening on mountaintops. It is striking how many cultures have these stories in their heritage!

The Midwest is lacking in mountains to summit, and Colorado wasn’t an option, so I headed west to the Rock River to visit The Eternal Indian.

In Spring 2024, I knew some major decisions were coming my way, and that some of the factors I was worried about were simply out of my ability to control. Change is the only constant, but I was feeling as if a firehose was being used to apply the onslaught coming my way. I needed to elevate my altitude and have this talk above the noise of the moment.

Chief Black Hawk stands proudly overlooking the valley he and his people once called their own. A statue that pays majestic homage to a man who led an entire culture through the death rattle gasps of their last years of range freedom.

His story is one of great adversity and the human will to not simply rail against prevailing injustice but to stop it dead in its tracks. He drew a line in the soul-indwelt soils of the prairies, telling the white Americans of the day, “This far. No further.” I would love to have the honor of speaking with this chief. Pick his brain and learn about the whole person. I imagine him to be a deep well, who had many reasons for the weighty decisions his life would be encompassed by.

The viewing park around the chief’s statue was quiet on that chilly spring day, allowing the peace of the overlook to be fully enjoyed. I sat down on a nearby bench and relaxed into a time of reflection. Oddly, I felt tension release in my chest. As I said, I knew a decision affecting my career and future needed to be made.

Until that moment, I could not bring myself to cede the territory of the past year’s plans. Plans had not failed completely, but I was out of steam. Much like Forrest Gump, my time of running had come to an end. Shit happens. There was nothing left to prove.

*Aside; Hold Fast. Stay the course. Steady.
This is not a curse. This is opportunity knocking.*

The path to victory over my adversary Crohn’s Disease required both a diversion of bowel and a diversion of self. Even before the surgery, I was skeptical of the “opportunity” it was being billed as. Progress tends to present in that way. Good comes out of processes of adversity. Trials.

Sometimes, seasons of setback and loss yield the most fruitful years of our lives because change is imposed. Obstacles present opportunities and limit choices. That is where critical thinking for decision-making is built. Skills for leading life in the real world, outside of the sterile protection of the lab.

Obstacles require action, or retreat. So an obstacle like IBD has given me the opportunity to build certain skills far and above that of my peers? Bullshit. At least, that’s how I viewed my disease journey for a long time. Just one big giant inconvenience that without a doubt would suck the life out of me.

No wonder I wanted to give up at times. Who can survive in that vacuum of thought? We as humans are often defeated internally well before any external wound has been inflicted.

There, on the overlook park bench, a similar back and forth played out in my mind.

“God, I know this was meant for good but you do not understand how important my plans were!” The clay questioning the potter.

“How can what appears to be very bad to me, be so very good to you?” I had asked very little input from the Lord thus far. I pleaded my case. Avoiding going so far as the drama of Job, but making sure God knew the bullet-pointed items on my list.

As usual, mostly silence and blowing wind in response. “God, it was my future too! I thought the job and the school I picked were good things.” “Allegedly, you have a plan. I’m all ears.”

I peeked through closed eyelids at the sky above. The chief standing arms crossed behind me was of some comfort. If God planned to strike me down, hopefully the statue would take the first shot, giving me a few seconds to repent.

I closed my eyes and refocused on giving the Lord an opportunity to share His side of things. Serenity in nature is pretty annoying when you’re hoping for a swift response from the Almighty.

A thought. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” Yeah, I know but… “He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul…” I’m listening. “He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake…”

After a few more minutes, another truth came to mind.

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?”

You got me there Lord, but I think there may have been a slight injustice done against me. I’m not saying you made a mistake, but come on man! The ostomy bag, low blow. What about all the other crap that came with it? I’m not sure I’m your guy. Seems like an ‘other people’ set of problems. I would exchange some problems for the job YOU seemed to give me not so long ago.

“For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them.” -King David

Oh. Well, ok but that was David. He was a great king, lacking in many of the problems I have due to NOT being a king. I know you do not make mistakes. I am really struggling to see how a thing like Crohn’s fits into the whole scheme of things. I was fearfully and wonderfully made to work! I had goals! I had a good thing going. What is my purpose! Why am I here?

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

“Follow me.” -Jesus

Point made. I had it backwards for a long, long time. None of this is about me, in as much as all of it was for me. This is the race set before me.

“You really think I’m made for this, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes He does.

I looked up from my seat. No holy mist surrounded me nor did any everlasting light shine down from the setting sun above. Still, a meeting had occurred and I had been brought to see a new perspective.

It is not I alone who will take this next step in life.

As always was true, my wellbeing is guaranteed by…

The Chief