If you want some light reading, research stage 4 esophageal cancer. If you prefer more positive paragraphs, properly proportioned for perusal, I suggest Peter Piper. I have always been a fan of alliteration. Here is something I recently wrote, reluctantly.
Cancer cannot cooperate, cordially, casually killing and cumbersome, creating clarity, confidently coercing curiosity.
And now I need some comma redemption in a longer sentence. There, I got it. Shit, I just blew it. Let’s move on, okay? (damn it, I love commas)
- We decided my hair feels like a cross between steel wool and corn silk. It is super soft. Not to sound corny but if reincarnation is real and I come back as a cob, I want to be shucked for popcorn and not canned or frozen. I don’t like the cold and I have a fear of cylinders ever since seeing a kid vomit in the Silly Silo at Adventureland in 1989.
- My feet are numb and my fingers hurt. Neuropathy is a side effect of chemotherapy. The good news is Angie can clip my toenails and it doesn’t tickle. The bad news is Angie has to clip my toenails. If this grosses you out, just be glad I am not sharing the recently snapped photo of my big toe. I took the photo as a signature piece for my upcoming art show titled, “Cancer, Chemo and Cuticles: Odyssey of the Clippers”.
- Have you ever tasted the inside of a muffler off a 1978 Ford Pinto? This is the taste chemo leaves in my mouth. Sometimes it eases up and tastes more like old onions that just rolled down a hill through horse shit and stopped on a bed of mold spores encased in vinegar. I try to mask this delectable flavor with a steady influx of cheese. I prefer Gouda or Muenster.
- I am dizzy. If I close my eyes in the shower and don’t fall asleep, I begin to fall backwards. If I do fall asleep, I still fall but it is more graceful. I don’t honestly sleep standing up but if I could, I would get more sleep and that’s a good thing. My feet hurt if I stand on them too long so I could never fall asleep in that position. Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, I am dizzy and tend to lose my train of thought.
- If you should ever discover a wasp nest on your property and decide you want to get rid of it with RAID, make sure the spray nozzle is pointed towards the nest and hope to high hell your aim is on point. Those little bastards fly faster than you can run and they don’t give a hornet’s ass if you donated twenty dollars to a Save the Bees GoFundMe campaign in 2014.
Does anyone remember the sitcom Night Court when Harry Anderson would tilt his head to one side and say something dramatic? I nearly flunked Basic Statistics in college because I never did the homework but I remember Harry’s head tilt.
I am surviving stage 4 esophageal cancer. It isn’t easy. Some days are just awful. I am grateful for Angie in many ways but most of all, her strength to endure my sleep deprived mood swings, her genuine compassion when used as a tool to combat my infrequent bouts of negativity, her infectious laugh and smile. I am not sure what I would do without her, not with these circumstances. Let’s talk about that for a minute.
What Would I Do Without Angie?
- Join a circus and serve bratwurst to the acrobats.
- Move to Illinois to work a toll booth and develop an addiction to hand sanitizer.
- Collect cans from the Interstate ditches and return them only to buy more soda so I can “ditch” the cans and find them again.
- Learn to speak Swahili and start a Queen tribute band, obscurely referencing Freddie Mercury’s birth ties to Zanzibar before every show, risking being booed off stage. But is it obscure anymore since the release of the movie, Bohemian Rhapsody? Regardless, I may have to tie my mother down if I continue to reference my love for fat bottomed girls.
- Take a job as a night custodian at Swiss Valley so I can devise a plot to steal 146 cases of whole milk cottage cheese only to then travel to Adventureland and dump it all in the now defunct Silly Silo which I hear is stashed behind the big storage shed on the north side of the park. I just wrote that run-on sentence with zero commas. You are welcome.
- Become a groundskeeper at a Monastery and spend my days trying to read the minds of monks. Maybe we would pass notes all day and talk about 80’s sitcoms and alliteration? Are all monks silent? Google that for me.
- Become a cantaloupe farmer. I love juicy, orange melons. I actually want to do this with Angie.
This is the First Post in a Series
The truth is, the past couple days have not been so good. I needed to write this. Thank you for reading and I promise to continue this How to Stay Positive series in the near future. I meet with a doctor on Thursday to talk about radiation. I will write more once I know more.