Original Post: https://www.reddit.com/r/golf/comments/1g4mmlu/urgent_request_my_brother_has_terminal_cancer/
Hi r/golf,
I hadn't seen anything on Reddit and I was really excited to see an update to this in Carmel magazine. TLDR: Looks like the boys made it out to Cypress, Pebble Beach and MPCC on their trip partially in thanks to this community.
Here is the article on page 54: https://e-digitaledition.com/carmel_magazine/Winter-2025/54/index.html
I'll post the article text in the comments.
u/Dr-DaddyLongLegs – hope you guys had the best possible time and that memory lives on forever
*I'm in no way related, just saw the article in the magazine and wanted to update the subreddit*
Edit – posted the correct article link
by Auresma
5 Comments
Article: Life in the Bucket List
At first glance, it was hard to tell which of the two brothers was sick. To know which one had millions of cells that had mutinied inside him violently replicating in a manner that, unchecked, would kill him sooner rather than later. But it was the younger of the two brothers, Josh. Josh bore the burden of treatments—chemotherapy, radiation—having been administered for almost a year, along with several surgeries that were, then weren’t, successful. He was the one whose tucked-in golf shirt hid medical devices that caused everything from inconvenience to anguish, but that kept him alive. Still, you wouldn’t have known.
Josh and his older brother Jeremy were here from the East Coast to play golf at Cypress Point with Pebble Beach and Monterey Peninsula Country Club tossed in for good measure. It would’ve been a dream trip for anyone, but for Josh it was his true “bucket-list” trip.
Have you ever considered that living in Carmel or its surrounding areas means getting to exist in other peoples’ bucket lists? Where folks would like to “stay and play” before permanently checking out? Where they come to swing a club or toss back a cocktail, “just one time?” To see the beaches and ocean, the people, the wildlife? The food, the history, the charm? Our couple of days with Josh and Jeremy brought that home—hard.
“Who does Josh look like?” I asked the staff at a local pro shop. “Bradley Cooper!” one guy replied immediately, causing Josh, 36 years old, still well muscled and handsome, to blush. Jeremy—thinner, and follicularly-challenged—laughed. “Everyone thinks I’m the sick one,” he quipped, relying on bits of humor to alleviate and elucidate the gravity of the situation.
I’d first noticed a request on Instagram just weeks prior to meeting the guys. Big brother Jeremy, a physician, tagged me in a few posts asking that I check my messages, which I seldom do. Intrigued, I read them: “My little brother has terminal cancer. Is there any way you can help us get on Cypress Point?” As a former member of the hallowed course, I had no pull. But my heartstrings were yanked and, after a few texts and calls, magic happened. A local, well-loved celebrity stepped in. Dates were set. Tee times made. My husband and I were absorbed into the story, getting to play, dine and philosophize with the brothers. They swore it was one of the greatest trips of their lives, but also that it would not be—simply could not be—their last big excursion together.
See, Josh has a three-year-old and a five-year-old. It’s unfathomable that he’d leave them behind forever—or his beloved wife, or his big brother, or their parents who’ve been married forever; or the profession in which he’s worked so hard to succeed. The only “leaving” allowed would be the five days it would take to fly across the country, play these world-class golf courses, and exist in this magical place for a portion of a week.
Both brothers were skilled golfers. The fact that a nefarious disease was trying its best to take down one of them didn’t prohibit playing 36-holes a day. Didn’t dismay its target after he made pit stops to deal with an ostomy bag, or neuropathy in his feet, or to catch the breath that had been left shallow from chemo. The guys took in each view, each vista, each wave break and ball break. They laughed at golf-related jokes and walked wide-eyed with gratitude. Not a tear was shed, except by me.
“How did you guys find me?” I asked as we said our goodbyes. Big brother explained he’d posted something on Reddit almost a year ago. It had gotten a million views and a few people suggested he contact me. I cried again with pride and love for this community. At the fact that locals know we will help each other, and we will help others who want to experience a little taste of what we sometimes take for granted.
As the sun set on a postcard-worthy day, we toasted with a margarita overlooking Stillwater Cove. “Don’t wait too long to come back. We never know how much time…” I said before catching myself, clearly projecting my advancing age onto his encroaching illness. But, maybe there can be more than one bucket-list trip. And maybe, with luck, I’ll see Josh and Jeremy again.
**Names have been changed for privacy*
I can’t afford rent
Wow, if this is true I hope you get somebody to help. I cannot. Anybody have a reciprocal club they know of?
Sweet
Amazing. Well done those that helped. If the OP and brother are ever in the San Diego area, DM me for some golf here (nothing prestigious, nor even private, but i can help with the nicer daily fee stuff).
As a stage 4 colon cancer fighter myself (still in largely good health otherwise and not yet “terminal”), you think about these things. Bucket list golf spots, memories you want to create and have with your loved ones. Bravo to OP. Mine is to take my son (now 8) to Bandon. It’s honestly my favorite place in the world. I’ve way over analyzed bringing him too soon where he won’t appreciate it vs too late where I might be a shell of myself. I’m going to err on the first. If any of you are on a trip to Bandon next year and see a guy in his 40s bawling while walking up the 18th with a kid next to him, it might be me.
Appreciate the update. I do remember reading this originally. These sorts of things inspire me to make the most of the time I have left, whether it’s 2 years or 40. Hug your loved ones everybody. You never know what life has in store.