Gene was on the mountaintop.
When he took the reins and became the CEO of a major accounting and consulting firm two years ago, over 20,000 people reported to him. His travel took him all over the US and abroad, rubbing shoulders with the most powerful business and political leaders.
Given his busy schedule, his calendar was booked more than 12 months out. Every meeting was prepared ahead of time. Perfection was the norm.
This all changed in the spring of 2005.
Gene’s wife, Corinne, stared at him oddly at one dinner.
“There’s a droop,” she said as she touched his face.
Gene didn’t feel anything unusual. As the weekend went on, Corinne noticed tightness around his mouth and sagged cheek muscles. It could be stress-related, Corinne said, and he should get it checked.
Gene received a standard physical exam at the neurologist’s office but a surprising recommendation: he should come in for an MRI the next day.
When Gene saw his MRI result, he was shocked. Compared to the unblemished right side of his brain, the left side looked milky, with dots of varying sizes scattered everywhere. They looked like galaxies.
After further testing, the doctor concluded that he had glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain tumors. He would soon develop blurry vision, seizures, and other symptoms.
He would have to cancel his next family vacation. In fact, the doctor said, he had to cancel everything.
Because he only had about three months left.
“My days as a man at the top of his game, vigorous and productive, were done, just like that,” he later wrote.
Eugene O’Kelly (1952-2005) was the chairman and CEO of KPMG US (which happened to be my employer for six years). After his prognosis, he resigned as CEO to focus on his treatment, unwind personal affairs, and spend time with his family. He documented his experience in his memoir, Chasing Daylight.
When I reread his book this past weekend, I was most struck by his reflection on how you could lose all control in life just as you thought you had figured it out. He wrote:
You can’t control everything, I told myself, as hard as it was to hear myself, a Type A personality, say those words.
I wouldn’t allow mishaps and bad luck and especially a defeating attitude to throw me off my goals, one of which was to try and make every day the best day of my life…
The CEO, the micro-manager, needed finally to let go.
Eugene passed away on September 10, 2005, four months after his initial doctor’s visit, at the age of 53.