April - 2017

4/28

4/28

My life now feels like two parts, BC and AD. Before Cancer and After the Disease. Of course this is all still so new to me and it’s probably silly making grand pronouncements when I am just at the beginning of this new phase of my life, but it certainly has the feeling of a sea change. Or at least a wake up call. But not the kind where you hit snooze for another hour and half and slowly drag yourself out of the bed. This is more the kind where you dart up and think to yoursel

4/27

4/27

My girlfriend and I watched VEEP last night and at about 10pm she had a craving for something sweet so like a dutiful boyfriend I offered to go and get her something from the store. She wanted a Boston Creme donut so I drove to Dunkin Donuts. It reminded me of a moment from when I was younger. We lived in a three bedroom ranch house off of State Park Road in Greenville, SC. I love that house. To this day I have fantasies of buying it and living there. It was a ranch house in

4/26

4/26

One of the first things I’ve done since I started chemotherapy is looking for houses and applying for steady jobs. Not that I can afford to buy a house right now. And I’m sure that moving while you in treatment is something they frown upon. Also, not exactly sure when and where in a job interview to bring up cancer. “What do you expect to bring to our team?” “A positive attitude and angry phone calls from you insurance company.” End of Play. It’s like what happened when I fir

4/25

4/25

I watched the Cubs game last night. It was a cold, rainy Monday night in Pittsburgh and no one was in the stands. We blew out the Pirates. The score was 14-3 and it wasn’t even that close. We were up 10-1 in the third inning yet I still watched every pitch of the game. There was something so soothing about seeing this game unfold with the outcome not in doubt. The players went up, threw their pitches, took their at bats, played out the stretch. There was no running out the cl

4/24

4/24

I used to live in Charleston, SC. Which is the most beautiful city in the world according to everyone who has ever been there. The most remarkable thing about the city is the weather. It starts to feel amazing around the middle of February and doesn’t stop being nice until January. I went to college there and I firmly believe it is the hardest school in the country. I’m sure physics at MTA has some challenges, but you should try History 201 at CofC when all your friends are

4/22

4/22

Everything has a bright side. One benefit to getting cancer is that people have started referring to me as young again. People are like “you’re so young to have this happen to you” and I’m like “thank you so much for saying that!” When I was a kid my aunt took me to visit the University of North Carolina. We saw all the sights and I was particularly struck by the Morehead Sundial. There’s a quote on it: “Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow.” I was like 9 or 10 at the time and it re

4/21

4/21

For two days after your treatment you are still attached to an IV bag full of medicine. You carry it around in a fanny pack. Every 10 seconds the machine inside the bag makes a click. That click is the chemo getting released into my body. Which makes it impossible to forget that you are hooked up to what is in essence a bag of poison. Poison that will help you, but poison none the less. Click. Click. Click. I have become hyper aware of my body. I’m trying not to anticipate be

4/20

4/20

My birthday is July 29th. Which makes me a Leo, but right on the cusp. So when people would ask me my sign I would be cute and say “I’m a Leo but I’ve got a little Cancer in me.” It never felt right saying it. Feels especially weird now. We got to the hospital early and asked concierge where the infusion center was. That’s right…the concierge. Not sure why the hospital needs one. Like were they going to suggest restaurants I wouldn’t feel like eating at? “We’ve taken the libe

4/19

4/19

I’ve decided I’m not going to say 'chemo' anymore but instead use the full word. Chemotherapy. The therapy part has a nice ring to it. Chemo sounds like you’re fucked. Like someone jumped you outside of a shitty motel and stole your wallet and took your pants. Like “yeah I got chemo’d outside of Days Inn off 95. I was walking to the Waffle House and boom - chemo.” Chemotherapy however… sounds lovely. Sounds like there’s gonna be scented candles and carafes of water with cucum

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