08 Feb The Power of Working to Death

I’ve had many times in my career when I have had to deal with death in the workplace. By death, I don’t mean an accidental death, although I have been involved on the peripheral of workplace death, as well as near deaths. I also miraculously watched people walk away from potential death… uninjured. Death in the workplace is a horrible, and in most cases, a preventable circumstance, but another type of death that has an equal effect is what I refer to as an active working death.

What do I mean by active working death? I refer to it as when a terminally ill employee who has continued working passes away. Many individuals diagnosed with a terminal illness are accommodated and wish to continue to work. It can be quite therapeutic for the employee patient and his/her co-workers, but it can also be extremely difficult.

I worked with an employee who was diagnosed with cancer. The prognosis wasn’t good from the start. He was late stage. He insisted through his illness though, that not only could he come to work, but he would also get better. I was always leery that something may happen to him at work, but he was in a sales role and his doctor had always monitored his health and aligned it carefully to tasks.

As the illness progressed we eventually moved him to a desk job where he prepared quotes and worked one-on-one with clients. Dave was very determined and at times very frustrated. His illness got to the point where he had to bring an extra set of clothing to work in case he had an “accident”. He struggled with the fact that people had the nerve to complain about work while he was literally dying to be there.  Rightfully so.

When he was finally unable to work because of the intense chemo, he still managed to come in when he felt at his peak in the 3-week treatment cycle and visit with the staff. I learned a lot from Dave when he would stop in. I learned more about cancer and the effects of treatment than I would ever care to, but it slowly became a natural conversation for us. I remember a time when he stopped by my office and I could sense a very strong odor. When I mentioned it, he told me that he had eaten a whole onion that morning because he had read an article about how onions could slow down cancer. He looked at me with complete sadness in his eyes and said “When you are desperate, you will try anything. I am desperate Paul”. His voice was quiet, but serious, with a hint of desperation.

He told me how his feet started getting cold at night and that despite everything he tried, he could not keep them warm. He said it was due to the chemo treatment starting to take a toll on the nerve endings, and that it affects your feet because they are the furthest from your heart. It was at that point in our conversation that we both came to the realization that his time was now measurably short. It is difficult to sit across from a desk in good physical condition and listen to a father of teenagers describe the poisoning of his body in the pursuit of its health.

I always maintained an open-door policy as a Manager, and as Dave and I spoke, employees would stop in and chat, asking him how he was doing and if there was anything they could do for him. Terminal illness is strange. It has an uncomfortable stigma unlike anything else. Through no fault other than being human, people whom you work and laugh with for many years suddenly speak in an awkwardly sympathetic and somber tone.

Although very appreciative of the well wishes, I could see the discomfort on Dave’s face. It must be a lonely and horrible feeling to be on the receiving end of some of those conversations. I promised myself that I would do my best to never make an individual feel “past-tense”. I have been around several terminally ill employees since and I assure you it can be an incredible challenge to be authentically normal in those conversations.

Dave continued to stop in to visit a few more times. The treatment cycle would allow him less and less opportunity to, but he continued visiting right up until the week before he passed. I was in my office when I heard the news. I quietly stood up and closed the door and sat for a few minutes reflecting on my time with Dave. My thoughts quickly shifted to his family and then to his co-workers. I was the new kid on the block and many of our employees worked along-side Dave much longer than I had. Word traveled fast and despite being busy there was an incredible sadness in the building.

I can honestly say I have never been one to attend funerals. I have been to 3 in five years. They were my mother, mother in-law, and a great friend who I worked with. I spoke at each funeral and I can assure you, that if you can speak posthumously about a loved one in front of several hundred people, you can speak in front of anyone. It is emotionally taxing to stand in front of somber family, friends and co-workers to proudly reminisce and define the qualities of a loved one’s character with absolute clarity, in the most honorable and respectful way possible.

I never attended Dave’s funeral, partly because of my fears, but mostly because I wanted to be respectful of as many employees as possible who knew him longer than I did. I had the pleasure of slowly saying goodbye to Dave in my office over the last few months while the staff kept the store running. I had the sometimes uncomfortable and awkward moments of holding back tears, trying to remain positive in our face-to-face chats, and I had the moments where we laughed. While most of the sales team and cashiers attended the funeral, I stayed back and worked in the store.

That was the first active working death experience I can remember. Perhaps that is why it sticks with me. I would eventually work with a few more employees who would succumb to cancer.  What I have learned over the years is that when a terminally ill person goes to great lengths to drum up the energy and positive vibes to simply venture out of the house for a few hours, I owe it to them to reciprocate as best as I can.

When writing this, I thought I would have some great advice for other Managers who may experience employees with terminal illness, but there is very little. Each person is different. Some employees will be positive, some will be sad, and some will stay close and some will step back. I have learned more to fear death, than the dying. To lend an ear and be grateful for the time I had with those people, and to manage myself better when it happens again. I have learned that when someone has the courage to muster up their “A” game when facing a terminal illness, I owe it to them to bring mine.

I don’t miss or remember many P/L’s from my management career, but there are many people that I miss and I am richer for those experiences. For young Managers, trust me when I tell you, if you remember your best P/L and not the people that achieved the results for you, you will become very successful at managing, but you will never be truly successful at leading. You will also, most likely, never have the privilege of honoring someone who was actively working themselves to death for you.