Four years can have significance in our lives. 4 years of high school. 4 in college. 4 for political office. There’s that chant when someone is vying for a second term in office, “4 more years, 4 more years.” In my case, at least lately, 4 more years is about surviving cancer.
It was April 17th, 2012 when I got a call at work from the dermatologist. The doctor’s voice trembled a bit as he read the pathology. I don’t know if that was because he thought I was going to sue his practice’s collective nose jobs, butt lifts and eyelid tucks off, or if he really cared…either way…I won’t easily forget the description he finally gave in human readable /non medical terminology, “It’s very thick and very deep.”
Never good when the doctor is upset and resorts to human understandable terminology instead of obfuscating words like “Breslow’s thickness, Clark’s level or mitotic state.” I basically translated all of it as, “You are pretty much-totally-completely-absolutely f-d Leland” and flew home in a tearful panic.
There have been lots of moments in the last few years when I contemplated death. What my funeral might be like. Who would be there. What pictures would they show. What the song list might be (gotta have some Garcia in the mix, I mean pa-lease). What would happen to Sarah and the boys? It was nearly impossible not to “go there” when they were sliding me into another MRI or pet/ct scan, drilling holes in my head for the requisite gamme knife cage, or putting a line in my arm for a fresh infusion or pull of blood for whatever. Discovering I had 43 brain tumors evoked certain dark thoughts. Those thoughts thickened an already bubbling stew of ruminations about tumors in my stomach, lungs, liver…later topped off by the news that there were actually 98 and not 43 tumors in my brain…a morbid-inspiration soupy mess, yummy yummy.
And I know I’ve been quiet online with www.98braintumors.com lately. I can rattle the reasons why I haven’t been writing much here: tempo and demands of work have increased; general disgruntlement about dealing with ongoing treatment side effects (translation – grumpy); boy’s hockey and lacrosse games involving protracted car-rides, usually equidistant to moon; getting up earlier, staying at work later; ‘Walking Dead’ and now ‘Fear the Walking Dead,’ soon to be ‘Game of Thrones’ (heck yes); iphone game binges; NHL playoffs; exploration of thoughts about starting start ups; resuscitation attempts at a long lost novel…
But at the “end of the day” what I want to say tonight to anyone trolling the internet looking for a hope is this:
I WAS HERE FOR FOUR YEARS
I AM STILL HERE.
So tell your fricking dark thoughts to piss off. Take a match to whatever statistics, disparaging words, or other bs you have rattling around in your head. Burn that cat shat up. Get off your proverbial couch or pity party or whatever has got you, and get moving doing something.
And if you are so inclined, hit your knees. Ask Whoever and Whatever you believe for the strength to get through whatever you are going through. This doesn’t have to be yet another end of your world, again. The “beauty” of this experiment (and I do believe, as counter intuitive as this sounds, faith is a scientific experiment) is this, “What choice do you have? And what exactly do you have to lose?”