Thinking

I’ve got cancer on the brain.  Yes again.  I keep thinking about my buddy recently diagnosed with prostate cancer.  He’s in the absolute worst part of it now – the knowing that something absolutely horrible is happening to you, and that you don’t know just how bad it’s going to get.  He got his scans last Wednesday to see what stage he’s in, where it all is, etc.  Now he gets to wait with dread and anguish for the results.  During this phase, I was popping Xanax like peanut m&m’s.  I clung to poor Rocco like hopelessness clings to Courtney Love.  This guy is doing it all on his own, no partner, no drugs, no shit.  He’s a far stronger man than I…well, if I were a man.

It was this time a year ago that they think my tumor started growing.  Not exactly the explosion of spring growth you generally hope for.  It seems like a lifetime ago, maybe two.  Here it’s an absolutely gorgeous spring day – the trees are starting to leaf, the sun is out, joggers are jogging, and I can’t stop thinking about death.  Then again, maybe it’s just the hangover.


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