Living Room Table Monday, November 12th 2018.
Maybe I’m alone in this, maybe I’m more of a coward then I care to admit. I am so very grateful to be alive and everyday that I wake up breathing is a great day, but the fear that one day my doctor is going to tell me that things have changed terrifies me. I generally tuck that thought way in the back of my mind, I’ve only spoken about it with a few other people that are walking the same path as I, and I feel like I’m coming out of the “cancer closet” by talking about it now. Those two weeks before my check up I start wondering, worrying, and basically become a paranoid lunatic until after my appointment is completed. Then comes the relief factor, where if there was a podium set up in the waiting room I would be strolling up to give my “thank you” speech as if I were an Academy Award winner, “I’d like to thank the medical staff at the University of Wisconsin, my wife, the RN who drew my blood, the lab techs who took their time to analyze it. The fine people in the radiation dept, the lady that validated my parking and all of you just for being all of you.” Once the euphoria of being told “no change” wears off, I go back to who I was a couple weeks prior, a normal guy trying to remember who I am or better yet trying to find out who I’ve become, working my way down the path hoping the trees don’t throw apples at me or the flying monkeys don’t carry me away.
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