September was a hard month. It was the final month of my “consolidation chemo”… which, as I understand it, was a way to consolidate every possible negative side effect of my treatment and forcefully cram it up my ass for three straight weeks. My chemo took the shape of General Sherman as he scorched his way through my American South.
The total warfare tactic was designed as a final blow against my currently non-existent disease. South Cancerlina had surrendered months ago, but union doctors needed to burn it in order to make sure the war would not continue in the future.
Everybody Get’s Leucky, the fundraiser that we threw last Saturday, was a complete success. We were able to raise around three thousand dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society with the help and support of our friends, family, coworkers and community members. The event went off without a hitch and everybody but me was able to get nice and drunk in the name of Cancer. I was also able to make a lot of people who had no idea what was going on pretty uncomfortable with my inappropriate cancer jokes.
I fell down a well a couple weeks ago. It was cold, dark, damp and uncomfortable. Sting wasn’t available to dig me out (obscure simpsons reference) so I was left to luck and my own devices to myself get out. I was limited by the well’s steep walls and my insurmountable physical anemia. People could yell down to me and I could hear their words bounce and echo all around my cylindrical tomb, but it didn’t help the loneliness. One day, to my chagrin, I felt raindrops being sucked into my tiny hole in the world. The rain kept falling and the water started to rise at my feet. At first I was too tired, ill and depressed to do anything but passively float. The water continued to fill the well and lift me up with it. Eventually I couldn’t just float anymore and I had to start treading water. I was an active participate now on my skyward ride to freedom. When I climbed out of the top of the well I saw all of the people in my life who support me were standing around holding buckets and hoses. The sun was out and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
No, you aren’t getting Leukemia… but you ARE coming to the fundraiser I’m throwing on April 18th at Mile High Spirits in Denver!
My friend Anna, as you may have heard, is running the Colfax Marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, so we are throwing a party to raise the money! There will be live music, drink specials, a cornhole tournament, prize drawings (including some high value items donated from some great sponsors!!) and a ton of dancing and fun!
I’ll be your MC for the evening, so come and watch my chemo-ass hobble onto the stage and breathe heavily into the microphone!
The festivities begin at 3pm or so on April 18th, so come early before whatever plans you have, or come late after whatever plans you have! Thanks for your support!
And if you can’t make it, consider tossing a few bucks directly to Anna’s marathon fundraising page, all the money goes to the same place!
Remember that early post I made about giving up control and accepting help and all that? Well I take it all back. Giving up control of my own destiny has landed me in my current situation, which is less than optimal. As with anything, there is a balance that must be struck between giving in and taking charge. You can’t just float on letting other people make your decisions for you, even in the most extreme situations, because no matter what there are some things that other people don’t know. For instance, nobody else knows what is good for you all the time. You, as a purely subjective being, are the only person who knows what is truly good for you. Sure you may not know what chemo drug is best for your cancer, but know more than anybody how that drug affects you.
You’re walking the dog alone, because it’s 6am and you both wake up that early, and she poops on somebody else’s lawn. You’re not supposed to handle dog shit because you are prone to infection. What do you do?
You’re at Best Buy because your mom was nice enough to buy you a TV for your housewarming/birthday present. Its pretty heavy, much more than you’re allowed to lift because of your recent surgery. The Best Buy employee helping you is handicapped himself and your mom has a sprained ankle. How does the TV get to the car?
Everything is a little bit harder with Cancer. Your hands are shaky, your fingertips numb, your brain is foggy from the chemos and your reaction time is slower. You eat a lot but you lose weight and you’re nowhere near light on your feet. You don’t know what your able to do all week because nobody will tell you your chemo schedule…
It’s ok, though, because you have plenty of help. Your family, girlfriend, friends, nurses are all here to help you manage these changes. It’s not always fun for an independent person to accept help, but it does make life, and life with cancer, easier.
Sorry for the lack of updates lately! I’ve been transitioning from Hospital to Home, Inpatient to Outpatient. There is more for me to say than ever before. Please stay tuned, Cancer Trolling is just getting started.
Here’s a pretty sweet #GQancer shot to tide you over: