12/12

I've read this poem to myself on the way to every treatment thus far. I freely admit it doesn't accurately reflect my situation, as I have and have had it pretty damn good. 

Still, I've drawn strength from it, and today, I feel like superman as I read it.

Fuck you, Cancer. 

For now, I win. You lose. 

Invictus  

Out of the night that covers me, 

      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 

     For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 

    

  My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 

      

Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

      How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate, 

   

   I am the captain of my soul. 

-William Ernest Henley

10 down, 2 remain.

The finish line is in sight. 

I have two more treatments scheduled. After the last, which will take place on St. Patrick's Day (sweet), there will be a 6 week break. 

That, I'm told, is how long it takes for all of the Chemo drugs to leave my body. After that, I'll go back in for a battery of tests to see what effect the treatment as a whole had on the Cancer. 

Obviously, I'm hoping to hear the R-word and that I'm completely Cancer free, and can move on from this. 

I'm ready for that not to be the case though, and whatever comes after that, whatever that entails--bring it. Why dread something you can't control?

This has been rough, but I've done my best to live up to my own words and to embrace the experience. The last month or two, that has proven very difficult at times. I've never experienced exhaustion like this--physically and mentally. 

There are times where the only word to describe how I felt, is empty. 

The nausea and puking I can handle. The drain, though...the emotional toll, the emptiness, has been the toughest part. Thankfully, it only lasts for a little while, and I bounce back (stop feeling sorry for myself) because of all the amazing people in my life. 

And if the scans aren't what I hoped for and the "fight" has to continue, then it will. 

I'm going to win, one way or another. 

Hopefully that victory is locked up 6 weeks from St. Patty's Day. I'll have "survived Cancer" on that day...which is something I won't really believe or be able to process mentally until it happens.

If not, it'll happen some other time.

When it does...I have no idea how I'll react because I haven't allowed myself to think about it. 

This blog is all about honesty, though, so one thing I know for sure...

 Is that I'm going to get extremely drunk, and that you're all invited. 

Like this. 

Probably travel, too. 

But definitely get really, really drunk. 

And grow a beard.

And get drunk. 

This is fascinating--and worth your time.

A friend of mine shared this on facebook, and I was blown away. Obviously, anything concerning potentially finding a cure for Cancer is deeply personal--moreso because of the loss of my Mother and other loved ones than because of my own experience. 

At times, it's difficult to believe that we haven't arrived at a cure for this nightmare already, but to see that real, documented progress is being made on that front, well--it's more than a little exciting.

The video shows a bit of the emotional toll that the disease takes on patients who have it much worse than I do. Frankly, given the impact it's had on me, I can't imagine the strength some of these people have.

I knew moments of weakness would happen throughout this process, but part of the reason I keep having "absences" from the blog is simple:

I'm just too tired.

I'm over 4 months into chemotherapy, and as much as I'd like to say it's been a piece of cake and that I've conquered it like the tough guy I am (in my own head), it takes a heavy toll--often times more mentally than physically.

And I'm 4 months in.

I receive treatment next to people who are over a year into it. Some two years.

I personally know people who battled for longer than 5 years, and though they did not survive, I won't say they lost. They just had to take a break.

The point I guess I'm trying to make--is if I've struggled with this the way that I have at times, and in general have it PHENOMENALLY good in comparison to the majority of other Cancer patients, what these people are going through, in 2015, feels more than just sad and unfortunate.

It's unacceptable.

Find a fucking cure. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8SvBAjXGyQ