Unless you’ve been under a rock, you know that I’ve been busy pimp slapping cancer for the past 5 months or so. Just kidding cancer, we’re cool right? It’s funny, when I was first diagnosed I received many, many words of encouragement that were for lack of more articulate terminology “fuck cancer” or “kick cancer’s ass” messages. While I appreciated these fighting words, they always made me a little uneasy. In some strange way, I thought maybe if I succumbed to this sentiment that it would be disrespecting my opponent and I didn’t want to do that. It sounds weird I know, but when you’ve been given a heavy dose of your own mortality, you probably do weird things. I’ve been told repeatedly that I’ve handled my illness with calm and grace. I’m not sure how I was supposed to handle it. I was freaking out on the inside and in private I suppose.
So my tumor is gone, my body is clear and my cancer is now in remission. I was in the grocery store parking lot yesterday and a thought suddenly occurred to me, “What am I going to do with the rest of my life?” I’ve been so focused on eradicating cancer from my body that now I am residing in a sort of post cancer Purgatory. I’m happy that the chemotherapy drugs are finally leaving my body for good but I’m not 100% healthy. I have peculiar, acne-like sores on my scalp. My hair is growing in white and patchy. I have cold sores on my lips. I still have a medical device implanted in my chest that will have to be removed in the near future. I still have doctor’s appointments and more scans.
I am so thankful. I’ve been given a second chance and I’m struggling to know how to repay this second chance. From the very beginning I told myself that I wasn’t going to come out of the other side of this experience and not be a changed man. I have this overwhelming urge to help children with cancer. I’m not entirely sure why, maybe it’s because they don’t fully understand why they are being forced to endure things that their peers most likely will never have an inkling of. I feel a strong connection and I think I can help in some way. I’m looking into volunteering at Children’s Hospital in some capacity.
The mind is quirky. In some ways it seems like the past 4 or 5 months has flown by. However in the midst of chemotherapy, I felt at the time like it might never end. I don’t ever want to see an infusion room again in my life. Occasionally I will get the sensation of my chest port being flushed. It’s a horrible ammonia smell and taste that became extremely repulsive to me. It is little things like this that creep up and remind me that I once was sick. Now I am better. Life goes on. “So stop whining about it and do something with the rest of your life”. This is what the voice in my head tells me, so I will listen and obey.
Human beings are an odd lot. Some people that I’ve barely talked to over the years performed incredible acts of kindness. Others, I suppose didn’t have the capacity to handle my situation and I didn’t hear a peep from, and that’s okay too. I know somewhere in your vacant heart you were hoping that I didn’t croak. See that’s the problem with the written word, it doesn’t impart tone. That was a joke. There’s an old joke that everybody becomes a nice guy on the day of their funeral. I probably didn’t deserve all the adulation and love I received but I’ll take it and in the future I’ll give it back to you, especially if you have a moment of need. Thank you all, you’ll never completely realize how much you touched me. It was beautiful to behold.
Lastly, Lisa Decker, my wife. Best friend, best caregiver, fantastic human being. Most of you already know this about her but you have no idea how amazing and what a rock she was. I’m sure she had her private moments of hell and weakness but I never saw it. She gave the vows that we all say when we stand before that altar, “In sickness and in health” meaning that go beyond the words. I love you Lisa.
