Just when you thought the salami was right

OK, let's talk cancer. I had chemo last week. I think my body is getting used to it. This isn't to say that the whole week was roses and strawberry jam, no chemo still sucks harder than a Dyson, but I didn't throw up, or really even feel like I was going to. Oh lordy, the things that are "good" in my life... I'm going to have a PET scan sometime in the next two weeks, and will get the results on the 16th. A PET scan involves injecting radioactive sugar into my blood stream and then using a large tube-like machine to take full color photos of my innards. If there are any cancer cells left, they will munch down on the sugar and it will "light up" on the scan.

I've written before about the scans. I've written before about the immense anxiety I go through while I'm waiting for the results. But it bears repeating. This is going to be a tough couple of weeks.

Again, for some unknown reason, the enormity of this whole thing hit me like a wet fish last week. CANCER!! If you're not careful, something like that can kill ya! I was gazing up at a beautiful blue sky when I had a very vivid recollection of the day I first found out I had cancer. I was surprised by a birthday party in Amsterdam. I was surprised that I made the all-star team in pee-wee football. I was surprised when I got my first set of SAT scores back. I was surprised when Allegra Smith asked me out. I was surprised when my cousin told me she was having a baby. NOTHING is quite like the surprise of finding out you have cancer. Trust me on that one. That was two years ago now. Two years. Two years pretty much lost to this whole fight. I've had my share of good times in the last two years, but mostly it's been about the cancer. Can you imagine loosing two years of your life? For a total of 6 months of those two years I was in a hospital bed or rehab facility. When I wasn't, I spent two or three weeks a month sick from the chemo. I'm 37 right now, but I don't remember what it was like to be 35 and 36. Those two years were simply exercises in tolerance, strength, coping, and quite possibly futility. I'm not feeling too positive about the scan. I don't think that the cancer has spread, or that I'm any worse off, but I simply can't believe that I'm rid of it. Don't get upset, I'm not. I'm not being fatalistic. Cancer is now part of my life, as is the cane I use to walk with. These are just the realities of my life, and I've accepted them.

I feel like I've droned on and on with this blog about the whole "carpe diem" thing, and about how fighting is worth the effort, and about how much I love all you guys and how much your support means to me, so for now I'll let that go. The next couple of weeks are going to include a lot of sleepless nights, maybe some drinking, certainly some football. You know, life as it is.