So I was having an everyday shower before a cup of coffee. From what I remember, it wasn't even the good stuff; just some leftovers before walking the one miraculous block to the Dunken Donuts to buy more (they have a "buy two for $12.99" thing going. All the time, too). Then again, I look at coffee like most pious people look at religion: it's all just inherently good. Sure, there could be some bitter parts, and if overused it sure can get you in the ass, but there's just something about it on a Sunday morning.
This is about the time I figured out that I have cancer.
Alright, there was probably a little bit of a leap there. Back to the shower, then. It turns out that in my peerless physical makeup, I had a few small lumps protruding from the right side of my neck, right at the base next to the collar bone. This, as you may think, was not exactly what I wanted before my holy coffee. Or Holy Coffee (which, when typed, seems more appropriate). A quick trip to the doctor later had me convinced that they were lymph nodes. Over sized lymph nodes, sure, but simple bulges that can occur for a variety of common illnesses. I knew better, though. It's funny now that I think about it, but for a guy that has shown, as of yet, no symptoms of any kind or signs of anything slowly eating at my cells I knew for a fact that something was up, much like when strange happenings are afoot at Circle K.
Tests were run. Weeks were waited. Life, as it is, does its thing. I found out that I have Hodgkin's Disease, which is not as rad as it sounds. They tell you to be tough through the hard stuff, to be strong during treatment and all of that. But I know what I am and what I'm capable of, and I know that this is the way things tend to go. Pessimistic, you say? Well, you missed the point. I'll be fine. It's just that things get in the way when all you wanted to do was take a walk, or buy a car, or just get a cup of fucking coffee. It hasn't been very long, but so far, I'm guessing that's what cancer's like.
I haven't met any other cancer patients yet, but I will. In fact, I want to meet them all because I bet you more bagels than one man can eat that they all have something to say. I think I'd like to hear it. I think other people would, too. But maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. What I will say, though, is that time and again people have suggested that I find some sort of artistic outlet for whatever it is that I'm doing, so here you sit reading That Wacky Cancer Blog (which wasn't even a working title. Sorry, Mom). I probably won't be very nice about it, and if you've already read the title you probably have a good idea about certain choices of tone. I have a good sense of humor about things, and I think you will, too.
And if not, then your loss. But even more than I hate sentences that begin with "and," I hate being sick, and this is a front row seat for the cancer show. I'm not just gonna knock it out, I'm gonna kick it in the face. Spin kick it in the face, even. It's gonna be as ridiculous as a Van Damme movie, my heel in cancer's unsuspecting jumping-spin-kicked face.
Come back soon. There's going to be pictures!
