for fuck's sake

this blog began shortly after i started fighting cancer,
as a place to inform family and friends,
as a rug where i could sweep up my mess,
and an outlet, as i fought.

and so, although i should be calling people on the phone,
and really talking and explaining the news,
this seems like a better place for it:

do you remember what page we were on?
let's see, we had the diagnosis, covered the chemo/radiation,
got through the surgery, and were dancing through post-surgical chemo,
on our way to candy mutherfucking moutain? right?
detour.

a few weeks ago i started feeling some swelling in the lymph nodes
on my left side, between my neck and shoulder.
wierd. called my oncologist: "don't worry"
emailied my surgeon: "wait and see"
continued with my chemo, returned to see my oncologist
a few weeks later for a standard blood test.
took another look at my neck, and sent me for a needle biopsy:
cancer cells.
fuck.
underwent a series of scans to see where it was,
and discovered that my cancer has returned,
with a fucking chip on its shoulder.
the cells are highly differentiated,
which means its a much more aggressive type
than what i was initially diagnosed with.
it has metastasized to my lungs,
and obviously, localized lymph nodes.
fuck.

so here we are. stage 4.
wait a second, how did this happen?
how did we get here all of a sudden?
feels like just a minute ago my biggest concerns
were what to eat for dinner and having clean underwear.
now i'm fighting for my fucking life?
fucking serious?

you know how in every medical drama,
the surgeon comes out of the operating room,
rips the mask off his face, and with a sigh of relief
tells the family "he's gonna make it... he's a fighter."
i always wondered if i was that guy,
laid out on the table, what would happen?
would i have the fight?
"uh... sorry folks, he just ate it. seems he was a big pussy."

no. this is my fight:
started a new kind of chemo yesterday, hopefully with better results.
reading literature about cancer nutrition, fascinating stuff. eating right.
yoga every other day. building the mind-body connection.
started an entire regiment of immune system building supplements
(one of them is a powder drink... i'll fucking gag if i have to describe it).
meditation and positive visualization. fruity, but i'll try it.
walks. bike rides. stupid movies.
laughter.
love.


silver linings are lame, but here's mine:
its been less than a week since this latest chapter unfolded,
but the quality and quantity of love,
of help, and support i have felt in that time
is something i will never forget.
truly.
i am blessed.
(aw crap... getting schmaltzy... quit it.)


point is.
this cancer has come back aggressive. nasty.
it hits hard, and so i'm hitting it back. in the balls.
the IV of chemo pumps into my veins,
and thousands of little lazer wielding spacemen
are swimming in my blood, zapping the fucking cancer cells.
take a bite of broccoli (and all its anti-cancer nutrients)
and i imagine i'm biting cancer in the fucking face.
bending into some impossible yoga pose,
i'm sweating cancer out of my fucking body.
fuck cancer.

leave it to my creative director to give me perspective:
"this cancer is a burglar, he's in your fucking home,
and he wants to kill you. what are you going to do about it?".

i'm going to kick its fucking ass.