More Than a Hunt: Someone Else Has the Watch

I’ve spent the better part of my adult life serving in the United States Marine Corps. Over the past 22 years, I’ve had the privilege of serving alongside some extraordinary people, traveling around the world, and experiencing things that have shaped who I am today.

Throughout that time, one of the constants in my life has been my love for the outdoors, particularly bowhunting.

Like many service members and first responders, I’ve missed more than a few hunting seasons because of deployments, assignments, and professional responsibilities. That’s simply part of the life we choose. We understand that our responsibilities sometimes require us to sacrifice the things we enjoy.

But occasionally, life presents challenges that have nothing to do with our professions, and those challenges can be considerably harder to navigate.

For my family, that moment came in July 2026.

My wife, Kristen, was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer.

Almost overnight, our lives changed.

The things we had been planning for suddenly seemed less important. Our conversations became focused on chemotherapy, surgeries, medical appointments, and the uncertainty surrounding her diagnosis.

The Marine Corps recognized our circumstances and supported my reassignment from an operational position to a nondeployable billet, allowing me to remain home and help care for Kristen throughout her treatment.

It was absolutely the right decision, and one for which I’m grateful. But after more than two decades of military service, it was also a significant change in my professional life.

At home, I found myself navigating the responsibilities that come with supporting someone you love through a serious illness. There were appointments to manage, household responsibilities to handle, and an ever-present concern about what the future might hold.

Kristen has faced her diagnosis with remarkable strength and courage. Yet one of the things that has troubled her most is how her illness has affected the people around her, particularly me.

For my part, I didn’t see much reason to concern myself with anything beyond taking care of her.

That’s what you do when someone you love needs you.

Or at least, that’s what I’ve always believed.

An Unexpected Opportunity

When Comanche Outdoors contacted me about an opportunity to participate in a fully sponsored, five-day whitetail bowhunt with Southern Ohio Outfitters, I was genuinely surprised.

I hadn’t been looking for an opportunity like this. I certainly hadn’t been expecting one.

And given everything happening at home, taking five days away to hunt wasn’t something I would have considered doing for myself.

But Kristen saw things differently.

For years, she’s told me that I have a tendency to take on everyone else’s problems while neglecting my own well-being.

Whether it’s my Marines, my friends, or my family, I’ve always been willing to accept another responsibility or carry a little more weight.

Kristen has a particular way of reminding me that this isn’t always healthy.

She refers to the safety instructions you hear before an airline flight. In an emergency, passengers are told to put on their own oxygen masks before helping someone else.

Her point is simple: You can’t continue taking care of everyone around you if you never take the time to take care of yourself.

When this hunting opportunity came along, she reminded me of that analogy again.

She told me it was time to put my own oxygen mask on.

She wanted me to get out of the house, get away from the constant conversations about cancer, and spend some time doing something I genuinely loved.

More importantly, she wanted me to remember that there was still room in our lives for something positive.

With her encouragement, I accepted the invitation.

Looking back, I don’t think the timing could have been more meaningful.

More Than a Sponsored Hunt

Comanche Outdoors took care of virtually every aspect of the experience.

The hunt, arrangements, gratuities, and deer processing were covered. My only real responsibility was getting myself to Southern Ohio.

I offered to contribute financially, but they made it clear that this was something they wanted to do for me.

That generosity was extraordinary, but what impressed me most wasn’t the financial commitment.

It was the thoughtfulness behind it.

Before I arrived, Comanche Outdoors had communicated with the outfitter and others attending the hunt. Without disclosing the personal details of my family’s circumstances, they had simply let people know that I was going through a difficult period and asked that they welcome me as one of their own.

And that’s exactly what happened.

From the moment I arrived, I felt comfortable.

There was no awkwardness, no expectation that I needed to explain my circumstances, and no pressure to discuss anything I wasn’t interested in discussing.

I was simply another hunter at camp.

Throughout the experience, representatives from Comanche Outdoors checked in to make sure I was doing well and had everything I needed.

They were available when needed but never intrusive.

That might seem like a small detail, but it meant a great deal to me.

In my professional life, I’m accustomed to planning, coordinating, managing responsibilities, and making decisions. At home, those responsibilities had taken on an entirely different meaning.

For five days, I didn’t have to manage anything.

I didn’t have to develop a plan, coordinate logistics, or worry about whether everyone else was taken care of.

Someone else had already handled those things.

All I had to do was show up, enjoy the outdoors, and hunt.

Finding Something I Didn’t Realize I Was Missing

I went to Southern Ohio excited about the possibility of harvesting a good whitetail buck.

What I hadn’t anticipated was how much I would appreciate the people.

There’s something special about hunting camp.

People from different backgrounds come together because they share a common interest. Conversations develop naturally, stories get exchanged, and friendships can form surprisingly quickly.

For military personnel and first responders, that kind of environment can be particularly meaningful.

Our professions often involve established hierarchies, expectations, and responsibilities. Even when we’re surrounded by people we respect and enjoy working with, there’s frequently a professional role we’re expected to maintain.

At hunting camp, those distinctions didn’t matter.

Nobody needed to know my rank, position, or professional accomplishments.

We were simply people who enjoyed hunting.

We laughed, shared stories, talked about the outdoors, and enjoyed each other’s company.

It was a communal atmosphere that reminded me how important it is to spend time around people with whom you can simply be yourself.

And for the first time in several months, I felt like I could genuinely relax.

The problems waiting for me at home hadn’t disappeared. Kristen was still fighting cancer, and there were still plenty of uncertainties surrounding our future.

But for a few days, those concerns didn’t have to occupy every waking moment.

I could sit quietly in a ground blind, watch the woods come alive, and enjoy the experience of bowhunting again.

I could appreciate a good conversation without feeling like I needed to be somewhere else.

I could laugh without immediately returning to the weight of everything happening at home.

And somewhere along the way, I began feeling a little more like myself.

The Buck Was a Bonus

As it turned out, the hunting itself was pretty remarkable, too.

During my time with Southern Ohio Outfitters, I was fortunate enough to harvest the largest whitetail buck of my life.

As a lifelong bowhunter, that’s an accomplishment I’ll always remember.

There’s a tremendous amount of satisfaction that comes from successfully harvesting an animal with archery equipment, particularly one you’ve spent years hoping to encounter.

I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

But here’s something I want to make clear.

Even if I had returned home without harvesting a deer, this experience would have been worth every minute.

The buck was an incredible bonus.

The real value of the experience was everything that surrounded it.

It was the camaraderie, the conversations, the opportunity to reconnect with something I love, and the realization that I had been carrying more stress than I’d allowed myself to acknowledge.

It was five days during which someone else had taken responsibility for making sure I was taken care of.

And that’s not something I’m particularly accustomed to accepting.

Someone Else Has the Watch

Throughout my military career, I’ve learned that responsibility often means accepting burdens that aren’t necessarily convenient or comfortable.

Sometimes you carry a little extra weight because someone else needs help.

Sometimes you take another shift because someone needs a break.

And sometimes you find yourself standing watch long after everyone else has gone to sleep.

Those experiences aren’t unique to the military.

Police officers, firefighters, paramedics, and countless other people who dedicate their lives to serving others understand the same principles.

We become accustomed to being the people others depend on.

But what happens when we’re the ones who need someone?

I think that’s where this experience taught me something important.

There are times in life when you can feel like you’ve been left standing watch by yourself.

The responsibilities continue to accumulate. The challenges don’t seem to get any easier. And you become so focused on taking care of everyone around you that you forget you might need a little help yourself.

Sometimes you begin to wonder whether anyone even notices.

What Comanche Outdoors reminded me is that there are still people looking out for us, even when we don’t realize it.

People who recognize the sacrifices others have made.

People who remember the kindness, service, and contributions of those around them.

People who are willing to step forward without being asked.

In my case, that support came completely out of the blue.

I wasn’t expecting a phone call offering me a hunting trip.

I certainly wasn’t expecting it during one of the most difficult periods my family has experienced.

But that unexpected opportunity arrived at precisely the moment I needed something positive.

It reminded me that I wasn’t standing watch alone.

Someone else was willing to step forward and say, in effect, I’ve got it from here. Go take care of yourself for a while.

What I Brought Home

As I write this, I’m making my way home from Southern Ohio.

I’m bringing home the largest whitetail buck I’ve ever harvested, some great memories, and the beginnings of new friendships.

But I’m also bringing home something I hadn’t anticipated.

A better state of mind.

For the first time since Kristen’s diagnosis in July, I feel like I’ve had an opportunity to step away from the constant pressure and uncertainty surrounding our circumstances.

Nothing about our situation has magically changed.

Kristen still has a difficult road ahead of her, and there are challenges we’ll continue to face together.

But I feel more relaxed, more positive, and better prepared to return to those responsibilities.

Kristen has already noticed the difference in my outlook, even before I’ve made it home.

That means a great deal to me.

And I think it speaks to something important about organizations like Comanche Outdoors.

Their impact doesn’t necessarily end with the person who participates in an event.

Sometimes it reaches the people waiting for that person at home.

Kristen wanted me to have this experience because she understood something I had overlooked: Taking care of myself would help me continue taking care of her.

Comanche Outdoors gave me the opportunity to do exactly that.

A Message to Anyone Still Standing Watch

If there’s one thing I hope someone takes away from my experience, it’s that you don’t have to face every challenge alone.

Maybe you’re a young Marine dealing with circumstances nobody at work knows about.

Maybe you’re a police officer, firefighter, or paramedic who has spent years taking care of everyone else.

Maybe you’re a veteran trying to find your footing after leaving the service.

Or maybe life has simply dealt you a difficult hand, and you’re doing everything you can to keep moving forward.

Whatever your circumstances, I hope you’ll remember that there are still good people in this world.

People who care.

People who recognize the sacrifices others make.

And people who are willing to help, sometimes when you least expect it.

I don’t believe experiences like this are about charity or handouts.

To me, they’re about community, connection, and recognizing that service to others is something worth honoring.

They’re about reminding people that their contributions haven’t gone unnoticed and that accepting help doesn’t make them any less capable of helping others.

Comanche Outdoors’ motto is “Where Heroes Find Peace.”

After this experience, those words have a much deeper meaning to me.

Peace doesn’t necessarily mean that our problems have been solved or that the difficult circumstances in our lives have disappeared.

Sometimes peace is simply having a few days when you don’t have to carry everything yourself.

Sometimes it’s sitting quietly in the woods, sharing a laugh around hunting camp, or reconnecting with the person you were before life became so complicated.

And sometimes it’s discovering that someone you never expected has been looking out for you all along.

I’ll always be grateful to Comanche Outdoors and Southern Ohio Outfitters for the opportunity they gave me.

But more than anything, I’m grateful for what that opportunity reminded me of.

No matter how long you’ve been standing watch, you don’t always have to stand it alone.

Sometimes, when you least expect it, someone shows up to relieve you.