Right here in River City

Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital 'T' and that rhymes with 'C' and that stands for cancer!

It's about 4 in the morning, and I just can't sleep. Physically I'm feeling ok. Not the best ever, but considering the week I just had, not too bad. When dealing with the hideous side effects of the cure I'm forced to see the enormity of the disease. How bad could something be if I'm willing to endure this sickness in pursuit of killing it? Pretty bad.

Cancer is a solitary disease. It's very personal. I love all my family and friends, and I take comfort in all that you have to offer me, but I don't think any of you can understand what's going on. You all have your own feelings to deal with regarding this, the sympathy and perhaps even empathy you have for me, I'm sorry for that. But cancer is very personal. Dave understands, to the extent that he understands how it personally affected him and that he can't understand how it's personally affecting me. This is my disease. I own it. It's not a bug, or a virus, or something thrust upon me, it's my body, my person, turned against itself. It's a complete loss of control, which for me is probably the worst thing that could ever happen.

I am a control freak. The world throws everything it can at you, but your life is about how you define yourself in the face of it, and you can only define yourself through what you do, what you control. Fortune and adversity may trip over you, but what makes you YOU is how you handle it. My life, the person I am, the friends I have, the things I have, are all there because of who I am, and I have made myself that man. I have had help, absolutely. But a man cannot give credit for himself to others any more than he can blame others for his mistakes. Your life is your responsibility, your control. I even tried to control my own body. I shave my head, get tattoos and piercings, all because it's what I can do to control my body. What little control I have over my own body is stolen by cancer.

Cancer is personal. Not only has my body turned against itself, as if the cosmos needed to drive the point home, it looks like the my body was programmed to do this. Deep down, at the level that none of us can control, yet, my dna has slapped me in the face with a loud and boisterous "You are NOT in control!!"

Cancer is personal. While existentialism has always been a playful pursuit for me, I've come to the conclusion that no person should have to face their own mortality in their 30's. Ok, so in some distant time past 35 was actually the exact time to think about dying, today it is not so. Oh that's right, I said "dying". Since the first day that the doctors hit me with this, nobody has even whispered any derivation of the word "dead". Nobody except me. I've said it, I've yelled it, I've cried it, I've written it. Nobody in my life will let me get away with such talk. There is to be no discourse about death, no feeling sorry, no getting down. It's all positive thoughts and laughter. Of course, they do this because it's exactly what I want. It's how I dealt with my mother. But I get to have my moments of fear and doubt. Before they first opened me up there were words flying around like "big tumor" and "aggressive" and "we don't know". For someone who thinks way too much on a regular basis, this of course will lead to thoughts of "I could die". Before I got sick, I use to think that I would be ok with dying, that I'm proud of what I've done with my life and if something should happen I would be ok with it. I'm still proud of my life, I'm still happy with what I've done, but I am NOT OK with dying!!! I changed my mind! No dying for me! I'm not ready. No way, no how. Of course now it's an honest possibility. Don't know what you have until you loose it, carpe diem, blah blah blah. Almost just as much as I hate loosing control, I'm pissed that I've become a cliche.