An Unexpected Path to SCI. Twice.
I recognized the incoming number on the screen as my phone buzzed quietly in my hand. As a funeral director, I seldom took any calls on my cell phone during an arrangement conference. But I knew I had to take this one - it was my doctor. And I knew why he was calling: he had my biopsy results. Excusing myself from the arrangement room, I slipped into a nearby vacant office and, preparing myself to sound upbeat, swiped the green answer button.
"Thanks for calling, Doc..."
"Hi, David. Are you sitting down? This will be some difficult news...all four of your biopsy cores were conclusively malignant," he continued. "You have Mantle Cell Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It's an aggressive cancer. You'll need to see an Oncologist from here. I can set up whatever you need....."
If he said anything else, I didn't hear it. My mind went into that place where things swirl about - where you hear, but just can't process. Only my wife, Linda, was aware of the biopsy - and that was only because I needed someone to drive me home after the procedure. I hadn't told our kids or my parents or my staff or anyone else. My mind was numb and deeply jumbled, and my world had been decidedly rocked. And now, I had to double down, go back into the arrangement room and continue planning someone else's funeral. . .
About 10 days later, I was plainly told by the doctors coordinating my treatment regimen that the prescribed treatment would either work for me or it wouldn't. There were no alternatives. Diagnosed as Stage IV, I could expect to live, perhaps, up to three years if I declined treatment. I didn't like that option. At all. At 50 years old, with our son and daughter-in-law expecting our first grandchild in just a few weeks and our daughter getting married in only four months, I had a lot to live for. But I also had an awful lot on my plate owning and operating a pretty busy funeral home. I knew I had some difficult decisions ahead of me.
Our kids had already completed college and had chosen other career paths. The lack of a built-in succession model with the kids had never concerned me before; I had "prepared" - in my own mind, at least - for that eventual retirement glide slope. Some day.
But this wasn't "some day". This was right now - and it was 4th & Long with no time outs left and my game clock was ticking fast. Suddenly, all the rules of the game changed.
Upon learning that a stem cell transplant (if I would even be a candidate for one) may or may not be successful, I knew the most responsible thing I could do was to step aside from ownership. I certainly didn't want to create additional turmoil for my wife, my family, my staff or the community who had placed such sacred trust in our firm. There was just too much at risk for too many.
Among my greatest convictions in my decision to sell was a deep and abiding concern for the best depth and breadth of experience, knowledge and resources to successfully continue the firm - with well over 100 years of history - into perpetuity. My predecessors deserved that. The funeral home staff deserved that. Our community deserved that. And I needed that.
My biggest surprise? SCI was personable, open, honest and honorable at every turn. I found them to be well-versed, well-prepared, and with a depth of knowledge and experience that was as appreciated as it was necessary for the quick time-frame that my circumstances required. Moreover, they were clearly concerned about me - as a person . . . my health and my prognosis and my family - and made sure that I understood, along with my brokers, every single step and every single detail of the process.
The closing was on-time, with every last detail as discussed and as agreed. With the firm ownership now transitioned into capable hands, I was freed to focus solely on a stem cell transplant, now only three days away, and everything that restoring my health would demand of me. Turns out, that took everything I had.
It was becoming increasingly and abundantly clear to me: I made the very best decision when I chose SCI.
Fast forward two years. The stem cell transplant was successful! My health continued to improve. Follow-up procedures were completed on schedule and my immune system - completely wiped out by the quantity and the severity of the chemotherapy I had received - is rebuilding as it should. Blood count trajectories indicate positive trends toward continued remission. For all of this, I am truly blessed and exceedingly grateful.
Months following the sale, with my team members still on staff at the funeral home, families were still being served with the same level of care, compassion and professionalism the firm was known for. And, to my continued amazement, John Faulk from SCI continued to call me regularly, just to see how I was doing. I could not have been more impressed.
Several conversations later, I mentioned to John that someone should really share this process with other owners, whether they ever intend to sell or not. There are so many things that most funeral home owners don't ever have to think about, I reminded him, until they choose to - or, like me, have to - sell. By waiting until then, I will attest, the learning curve can become pretty steep.
Now, more than a year later, I've found myself on a journey down a second unexpected path with SCI: I am honored to have joined this very same SCI team that had immeasurably helped me during the most critical time and transition of my professional life. And my new role with SCI is as pay-it-forward as I could possibly imagine: I get to help other owners learn and understand critical aspects of transitional preparedness that I can only wish I had known before that game-changer phone call from my doctor completely rocked my world.
In the coming months, we'll be including many of the basic touchstones of this little-understood process in our Acumen Series here in this Newsletter. We've designed everything in this site to be intentionally informational - no cost, no strings - just good information that's relevant, insightful and beneficial for any owner. Each time we add new content, at least quarterly, we'll send you an email with a link so you'll know there's something new to check out.
Please know that you don't need to be interested in selling - just interested in educating yourself - in order to appreciate this content. There are critical metrics to understand, important documents that should be readily available and essential concepts to be aware of if ever you would find yourself selling your firm - whatever the reason, and whoever the buyer. Clearly, good information affords the savvy owner at least two critical advantages: knowledge and preparedness. Both can only be - in a word - invaluable.
As funeral directors, we've all helped people in our communities understand the importance and the value of planning ahead. Many tell us they don't want to think about it, others say they'll "get around to it". Comparatively few, as we know only too well, ever get it done.
It's been said many times that no one plans to fail - but many fail to plan. In the midst of cancer treatment and facing potentially the worst, I was reduced - by default - to learning as I went through the process. You don't have to. For your own knowledge and preparedness, I sincerely hope you'll sign up to receive this Newsletter. You'll be notified each time we update it with new content. It's informative. It's helpful. And it's free.
And you just never know when you might need it.
"Thanks for calling, Doc..."
"Hi, David. Are you sitting down? This will be some difficult news...all four of your biopsy cores were conclusively malignant," he continued. "You have Mantle Cell Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It's an aggressive cancer. You'll need to see an Oncologist from here. I can set up whatever you need....."
If he said anything else, I didn't hear it. My mind went into that place where things swirl about - where you hear, but just can't process. Only my wife, Linda, was aware of the biopsy - and that was only because I needed someone to drive me home after the procedure. I hadn't told our kids or my parents or my staff or anyone else. My mind was numb and deeply jumbled, and my world had been decidedly rocked. And now, I had to double down, go back into the arrangement room and continue planning someone else's funeral. . .
About 10 days later, I was plainly told by the doctors coordinating my treatment regimen that the prescribed treatment would either work for me or it wouldn't. There were no alternatives. Diagnosed as Stage IV, I could expect to live, perhaps, up to three years if I declined treatment. I didn't like that option. At all. At 50 years old, with our son and daughter-in-law expecting our first grandchild in just a few weeks and our daughter getting married in only four months, I had a lot to live for. But I also had an awful lot on my plate owning and operating a pretty busy funeral home. I knew I had some difficult decisions ahead of me.
Our kids had already completed college and had chosen other career paths. The lack of a built-in succession model with the kids had never concerned me before; I had "prepared" - in my own mind, at least - for that eventual retirement glide slope. Some day.
But this wasn't "some day". This was right now - and it was 4th & Long with no time outs left and my game clock was ticking fast. Suddenly, all the rules of the game changed.
Upon learning that a stem cell transplant (if I would even be a candidate for one) may or may not be successful, I knew the most responsible thing I could do was to step aside from ownership. I certainly didn't want to create additional turmoil for my wife, my family, my staff or the community who had placed such sacred trust in our firm. There was just too much at risk for too many.
Among my greatest convictions in my decision to sell was a deep and abiding concern for the best depth and breadth of experience, knowledge and resources to successfully continue the firm - with well over 100 years of history - into perpetuity. My predecessors deserved that. The funeral home staff deserved that. Our community deserved that. And I needed that.
My biggest surprise? SCI was personable, open, honest and honorable at every turn. I found them to be well-versed, well-prepared, and with a depth of knowledge and experience that was as appreciated as it was necessary for the quick time-frame that my circumstances required. Moreover, they were clearly concerned about me - as a person . . . my health and my prognosis and my family - and made sure that I understood, along with my brokers, every single step and every single detail of the process.
The closing was on-time, with every last detail as discussed and as agreed. With the firm ownership now transitioned into capable hands, I was freed to focus solely on a stem cell transplant, now only three days away, and everything that restoring my health would demand of me. Turns out, that took everything I had.
It was becoming increasingly and abundantly clear to me: I made the very best decision when I chose SCI.
Fast forward two years. The stem cell transplant was successful! My health continued to improve. Follow-up procedures were completed on schedule and my immune system - completely wiped out by the quantity and the severity of the chemotherapy I had received - is rebuilding as it should. Blood count trajectories indicate positive trends toward continued remission. For all of this, I am truly blessed and exceedingly grateful.
Months following the sale, with my team members still on staff at the funeral home, families were still being served with the same level of care, compassion and professionalism the firm was known for. And, to my continued amazement, John Faulk from SCI continued to call me regularly, just to see how I was doing. I could not have been more impressed.
Several conversations later, I mentioned to John that someone should really share this process with other owners, whether they ever intend to sell or not. There are so many things that most funeral home owners don't ever have to think about, I reminded him, until they choose to - or, like me, have to - sell. By waiting until then, I will attest, the learning curve can become pretty steep.
Now, more than a year later, I've found myself on a journey down a second unexpected path with SCI: I am honored to have joined this very same SCI team that had immeasurably helped me during the most critical time and transition of my professional life. And my new role with SCI is as pay-it-forward as I could possibly imagine: I get to help other owners learn and understand critical aspects of transitional preparedness that I can only wish I had known before that game-changer phone call from my doctor completely rocked my world.
In the coming months, we'll be including many of the basic touchstones of this little-understood process in our Acumen Series here in this Newsletter. We've designed everything in this site to be intentionally informational - no cost, no strings - just good information that's relevant, insightful and beneficial for any owner. Each time we add new content, at least quarterly, we'll send you an email with a link so you'll know there's something new to check out.
Please know that you don't need to be interested in selling - just interested in educating yourself - in order to appreciate this content. There are critical metrics to understand, important documents that should be readily available and essential concepts to be aware of if ever you would find yourself selling your firm - whatever the reason, and whoever the buyer. Clearly, good information affords the savvy owner at least two critical advantages: knowledge and preparedness. Both can only be - in a word - invaluable.
As funeral directors, we've all helped people in our communities understand the importance and the value of planning ahead. Many tell us they don't want to think about it, others say they'll "get around to it". Comparatively few, as we know only too well, ever get it done.
It's been said many times that no one plans to fail - but many fail to plan. In the midst of cancer treatment and facing potentially the worst, I was reduced - by default - to learning as I went through the process. You don't have to. For your own knowledge and preparedness, I sincerely hope you'll sign up to receive this Newsletter. You'll be notified each time we update it with new content. It's informative. It's helpful. And it's free.
And you just never know when you might need it.
David W. Deuth, CFSP
Licensed Funeral Director & Business Development Manager [email protected] o. 563.293.6920 | c. 563.508.4437 |
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