Rare as they are – and that, in truth, is an admission that demands some personal reflection – there are times when the golf-playing and the golf discussions and the golf stories are pushed aside and total attention is afforded to that most incomparable of all worldly phenomenon.
The human spirit.
My world has encountered it on different occasions, yes, but when that model of human spirit sits directly across the table from you and offers words that are saturated in raw, unfiltered honesty, the awe is surreal, the tears palpable. To hear talk about an “acoustic neuroma” and “neurosurgeons” and a “spinal leak” and having come to grips with the reality that your world will forever be changed is all so chilling enough.
But damn, this was Chris Garrett telling me all this and Lord, how my every muscle froze.
We share small corners in a cozy golf world that we love but one with which we admittedly get for too consumed at times – Chris as the Director of Consumer Marketing with FootJoy, me as one whose quest to figure out this game is mystifying enough without also attempting to quench my love of typing words to tell stories that intrigue me and hopefully please others.
One beautiful day two years ago we shared an unforgettable round of golf at Secession Golf Club in Beaufort, S.C., and on more than a dozen other occasions our conversations revolved around the game we loved. But here, a few days before a holiday that challenges us to give thanks, we sat and talked of a book entitled “10 Things My Tumor Taught Me.”
Chris Garrett wrote the book to offer an account of his surgery to remove an acoustic neuroma, a non-cancerous tumor that grows on the nerve connecting the inner-ear to the brain. “Selfishly, I wanted to create something tangible, (to say) I did this, I went through this,” he said. But as he made clear in the book, the greater purpose was to offer help to people who are facing equally daunting challenges in life.
“Wherever you might be,” he wrote in the introduction, “I hope the lessons I learned can help you find the perspective you need to keep moving forward.”
“It didn’t beat me,” said Chris Garrett. “It struck me that life is a story and this was a chapter in my life. I wanted it to be positive.”
Chilling, at times, but indeed Chris Garrett authors a positive story.
^ ^ ^
Should you need confirmation that the experience forever will have a hold on Chris Garrett, consider that he rattles off the significant dates with zero hesitation.
On Feb. 1, 2024 “I woke up and had no hearing (in his right ear).” And “on Oct. 17 2024 I had the surgery.”
Sounds like a pretty clean timeline, though it was far from it. Chris Garrett tells of eight-plus months of emotional swings, how it took a few doctor visits before it was determined that that was not a buildup of wax or water. Visits to ENT specialists brought some progress, then came the news July 1, 2024 – “It’s not cancerous.”
Said Garrett: “It was helpful but not comforting.”
With "AN" representing acoustic neuroma and OCT1724 being the date of his surgery, Chris Garrett wields a putter that has special meaning. Below, the book he has written.
Educated about the acoustic neuroma, Chris and his wife, Jessica, were told that they had three options. Wait and see, have radiation, or undergo a craniotomy. They chose option one. “My wife (who works in pharmaceutical sales) is savvy, she wanted time to look into this. We weren’t talking to people because we didn’t know what it was.”
The more they studied, the more their research pointed them toward the University of California San Diego where there is an acclaimed Acoustic Neuroma Program.
The Garretts learned that only 3,000 new cases are discovered every year and that Mark Schwartz, MD, neurosurgeon, and Rick Friedman, MD PhD, neurotologist were leaders in the field. Their questions and concerns were answered by the team at UC San Diego. There was discussion about the tumor possibly expanding into the brain cavity and for Chris Garrett one thing resonated emphatically.
“Once you heard ‘brain’ it was pretty easy to say yes.”
During the wait-and-see period things had not gotten any better so in August, Chris and Jessica called to book the surgery. They were confirmed for that date in October but the emotional weight was still enormous.
“I had made up my mind (for surgery) but then I’d just burst into tears,” said Chris. “I’d be crying, saying, ‘How am I supposed to get through this?’ ” Then he’d be confused and dismayed. “Physically, I felt fine. I’d say, ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m 100 percent healthy.’ ”
So, how did he get through the ordeal? Crazy, but taking notes helped. “Writing has always been an outlet,” said Garrett, who uses that skill in various capacities with his FootJoy job. “I express my feelings better (writing). Will I work again? Will I have to give it up? Will I ever play golf again?”
Garrett considered everything and arrived at a series of the 10 points that are the basis for his book. “You Are Stronger Than You Think” is his opening chapter and among those that are followed are “You Matter to Many” and “Preparation is Powerful” and “Leave No Stone Unturned” and “Find Your Joy.”
What shines through is the importance Chris and Jessica Garrett placed on attitude and perspective. “A lot of it I give to my faith. I believe I’m on this journey. We all have a cross to bear; this is my cross.”
In the weeks before he and Jessica would head to UC San Diego, Chris Garrett thought it was important to “let my kids see that I had strength, to prove to them that we can overcome things and deal with misfortune.”
The talks he had with Sydney and Jackson were poignant, personal, and while he told them both “that I’m not nervous,” when it was just he and Jessica in San Diego and then just him alone on the bed headed into the operating room Chris Garrett was true to his words. He wasn’t nervous; he was being as he said he would, strong for his kids.
For 10 days post-surgery, Chris and Jessica stayed in Oceanside, Calif., where the UC San Diego team could monitor his progress. It wasn’t without some hiccups, most nervously the spinal fluid that leaked and the excruciating headaches. “Like an ice pick into my forehead,” said Garrett.
The AN team reacted and Chris Garrett was set up with a drain where for every two hours across five days fluid was taken from the brain area. “If at the end of five days there’s no more water to drain, you’re OK,” they told him.
“Let me tell you, on that fifth day, I put my chin on my chest and it was the longest minute of my life,” said Chris. “If nothing comes out, I am going to go home. If something comes out, I’m going back in for another brain surgery.”
Sitting with his chin to his chest, Chris Garrett insists he wasn’t overcome with emotions. He wasn’t nervous. “I had total confidence in this team,” he said.
Not a drop. He had his ticket to go home.
^ ^ ^
In the foreword to “10 Things My Tumor Taught Me,” Jessica Garrett wrote, “In hindsight, before knowing about his tumor, maybe we took the privilege of our time together and the special people in our lives for granted.”
That’s consistent with the thoughts that resonate with Chris as he assesses his world post-tumor. He still loves his job and treasures being in and around golf, where the community of friends and supporters is countless.
But he knew going into the surgery that “my life as I knew it would never be the same” and sure enough, that’s true. He’s lost hearing in his right ear (“but I still have tinnitus in the ear”) and he’s noticed on the golf course that he struggles with his balance.
“Change is hard,” he wrote in his book.
But remember, Chris Garrett accentuates the positive, so here they are, flowing beautifully.
“If you can focus on today, focus on the people and situations that make you feel good, focus on the strength that’s helped you endure, you can find peace and happiness in this day before worrying too much about the ones that follow.”
